#if you want your profs to like you use their office hours and talk about things THEY like

[saetoru]

RATE MY PROFESSOR! — GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day one — threesomes ; find masterlist here

synopsis. you’re professor gojo’s TA—the catch? you both are romantically involved. what do you do when professor geto happens to accidentally walk in on you giving a blowjob? let him fuck you so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t tell a soul, of course

length. 5.1k words (deep, big, heavy sigh)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, college au, teacher-student relationships, prof! satoru + suguru, TA! reader, power imbalance, age gaps (reader is early twenties and satoru + suguru are early thirties), semi public sex (at campus in satoru’s office), suguru walking in on you and satoru, threesomes, fingering + blowjobs + hair pulling + throat fucking + cum swallowing (satoru), male masturbation + edging (suguru), unprotected sex + (one) clit slap + creampie (suguru), pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, princess, pretty girl, good girl), not proof read—i am a raw dog kinda gal

notes. i would highly discourage having intimate relations with a professor—but….if your professor looks like gojo or geto, i’m blind babe. i ain’t see nothing. i won’t tell a soul

“you guys wanna get lunch?” nobara hums, “we’re all here.”

megumi, as always, looks like he’s about to say no—he probably wants to go home as quickly as possible. but that’s not an option because before he can, yuji has already piped up with an enthusiastic, “yeah! i’m down.”

you fiddle your fingers nervously—how are you supposed to get out of this one? you’d just used the excuse of grading assignments for satoru yesterday, and surely you couldn’t possibly have a fresh pile of them to grade again within twenty-four hours, right? it’d be a suspicious excuse, especially one for nobara, who seems to sniff out a lie a little too easily. 

it’s not that you don’t want to hang out with your friends, you love them. really. but you promised you’d be in satoru’s office in fifteen minutes—and you’re not about to keep him waiting, so lunch will have to wait for another time.

you’re still thinking of a usable excuse when she turns to you herself, unimpressed as she dryly says, “i assume you have some midterm review to help him polish or something,” she grumbles, “gojo is so lazy,” she scoffs.

oh—well, that wasn’t very hard. she’s just made it ten times easier for you. nobara has handed you the perfect excuse right in the palm of your hand, and before you can even play it off casually, yuji cuts in and distracts her. bless yuji, you think to yourself.

“hey, professor gojo is a great guy! we all passed with an A! isn’t that great?”

“everyone gets an A in his class, dumbass,” megumi grunts, rolling his eyes, “not getting an A in his class practically means you’re deliberately trying to do poorly.”

on campus, professor gojo is a fan favorite—his rate my professor score is a perfect five stars, and most of the students around campus rave about him. why? because he gives out the letter grade A+ like it’s candy. anyone would love a professor like that. 

he doesn’t ever take attendance or knock your grade down when you skip class, his assignments are always easy to google answers to, and the quizzes have unlimited time and attempts. his tests are straightforward enough that even if you never pay attention, doing the review he uploads is sure to help you cram enough to pass. and what’s better? he always adds a generous curve. not only that, but professor gojo is a friendly guy—he loves talking to his students, loves to ramble away if you stop him in the halls or visit during office hours, loves to listen to your stories and nod along in interest, loves to crack jokes and have a good laugh.

everyone loves professor gojo. and when they leave his class with an A+, they love him even more. 

you had an A+ in physics yourself when you took his class—and you hate physics. you hated it in high school, and you hate it now. but for gojo satoru? you’re almost a physics enthusiast. professor gojo—or rather, satoru, as you call him now, takes a liking to you. a very…strong liking, if you will. 

it all starts on a fateful monday afternoon two semesters ago—it’s one thirty pm, the busiest hour on campus. sometimes, it feels like everyone takes classes at one pm—and as such, getting a table in the university coffee shop is almost impossible. you’re just about to give up and leave with your coffee and sandwich after scanning the place when a wave of a hand catches your attention. 

it’s professor gojo. 

need a seat? he asks you, gesturing at the chair in front of him at his table—it’s a smooth, amused little drawl, the way he talks. it’s almost always a borderline teasing tone, and his voice is low enough that it sounds oddly enticing. you’ve heard enough girls lust over his voice in class to know you’re not the only one who sometimes appreciates the sound. 

you try to insist that you wouldn’t want to intrude, but professor gojo is a nice guy; always looks out for his students and helps them out. so, when he insists that he doesn’t mind you taking the spare seat as he grades a few assignments, well…you decide to sheepishly thank him and sit across from him, finally having somewhere to sit and eat before you’re off to your next class. 

and then it begins.

every now and then, you sit across from your physics professor in the crowded coffee shop on campus as you enjoy a cold brew and a sandwich before your next class. somehow, he always manages to snatch a table, and somehow, you always manage to find him. you like to ramble to him sometimes—how professor nanami is a bit too strict for your liking (he giggles at that), how professor ieri always seems too tired and miserable to be here (he nods and agrees), and how professor geto is nice, but he takes literature pretty seriously (he gives you an amused look at that as he hums.)

somewhere along the line, he asks you to be his TA for the following semester—and somewhere further along that line…well, perhaps the one-on-one talks as you sit together at a table for two felt a little too close to something of a romantic setting because you and professor gojo kiss in his office while he calls you in to explain your TA responsibilities. 

that was never supposed to happen. 

you don’t even remember who leaned in first, or whose arms were the first to wrap around the other, or who tugged who closer, but you both kiss. and then some. and then it happens again, and again, and again—and, well…you’re professor gojo’s, or better yet, satoru’s best kept secret.

you go to his office to grade assignments for him—in between if he steals a few kisses, who’s to know? sometimes, he’s a bit riskier, likes to spread his legs and free his cock and have your hand stroke him as he eyes the door. it’s always a nice view to watch him unbutton a few buttons of his shirt and bite back moans. other days, he likes to slip his hand past your waistband and toy with your clit—the amused glint in his eyes, as he tells you not to get distracted and keep grading when you gasp always, earns him a sharp glare.

it’s like that for the semester, just you and him in his little office where you can break the rules in the safety of secrecy. 

that is, until now. 

admittedly, this isn’t the best time to be doing this—professor geto likes to have lunch with satoru around this time, and you know you’re cutting it close…but he just looks so pretty like this, head fallen back against his chair as his lips part with a soft gasp.

you’re on your knees, looking up as you suck on the tip of his stiff cock before taking him down your throat, bobbing your head up and down. it’s a rewarding position to be in—to have the hot, loved, campus favorite professor that everyone thirsts over falling apart in your mouth, hands gripping the arms of his chair as he pants harshly above you.

he looks pretty—always does, always looks good enough that you can feel the ache between your legs get worse. the messy strands of his hair stick to his damp forehead, and his lips are always so pink and plump when he bites them like that, and who can forget the way his eyes turn just a shade darker of that bright blue?

you hum around him, making him groan as he mumbles, “f-fuck, you’re so good, sweetheart—always know how to make me feel good.”

you press a kiss to his tip, smearing the bead of pre cum leaking from his slit along your lips before licking them clean—he closes his eyes and groans at that. you can’t help but giggle, can’t help but press more kisses along his hardened length until you’re at the base of his cock. 

“pretty little lips,” he hums, reaching to rub his thumb over your bottom lip as you open your mouth, letting him slip into your mouth—he hums approvingly as your tongue swirls around the digit, sucking slowly. “‘s like you were made for taking me, huh?”

“‘course i was,” you grin cheekily—and then you’re back to sucking on his cock, tongue rubbing over that thick vein you love to trace and reaching a hand to play with his balls. he moans—it’s low but still whiny enough that you can’t help but feel so proud at how needy he is, how desperately he always wants you. no matter the risk.

except the risk is probably not the wisest one to test today because just as satoru lets out a particularly loud whine when you swallow around him, the door clicks open and…

oh. 

oh no. 

this…this isn’t good—this is terrible, in fact. this is the worst possible outcome to the worst possible thing you’ve done, and now you’re screwed. entirely destroyed, in fact—the both of you. here goes your admission and your progress on your degree, and here goes satoru’s entire career and everything he’s worked for, and all because you couldn’t help but give him a blowjob in the middle of his office with the door unlocked where his best friend can walk right in and get a full view.

and worse? this best friend of his happens to be another professor on campus who you happen to have had just last semester. you’re sure he knows you; you’re his former student, after all, and he must certainly know his best friend’s TA. 

professor geto blinks—his eyes go back and forth between you and satoru and the still-hard cock between his legs that’s glistening with your spit as you sit on your knees. yeah—there’s no explaining this one.

“well,” he says blankly, “i guess that’s on me for not knocking, huh?”

“suguru,” satoru grumbles, “some of us are busy y’know? can’t you come back later?”

you turn to satoru in shock—how can he be so normal about this? how can he just casually act like this is some random hook-up his friend walked in on instead of a (very illegal and very unprofessional) teacher-student relationship that could get the two of you in more trouble than you can comprehend? 

but professor geto doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned. there’s no look of disgust or panic or even anger at you and satoru for your unprofessional habits. there’s no alarm at the distasteful activities you’re doing in the middle of a university office where anyone could potentially walk in on. and then there’s satoru—he doesn’t even bother making himself decent or pulling you from your knees.

no, instead, he looks at professor geto in slight irritation as the latter stands there. 

“so this is what you’re always busy doing in your office, huh?” professor geto hums, chuckling in amusement, “i have to say, you at least have good taste, satoru. she’s excellent in and outside the classroom, it seems.”

“yeah, she’s a keeper,” satoru hums, cupping your cheek as he grins down at you, “now if you don’t mind, suguru, we’re in the middle of something.”

“and what do you plan on doing if this gets around?” professor geto raises a brow, unimpressed.

you look at him in panic at that—surely…surely he can’t mean that he would be the one to spread this around, right? surely he wouldn’t throw his best friend under the bus, correct? if not for you, then for satoru’s sake, he’d never let this information find another soul. otherwise…otherwise you’ll both lose everything. all the hard work and progress you’ve made, all of satoru’s experience and years building his career, and all the future opportunities you had coming up—all of it will be for nothing if professor geto says one word. 

people wouldn’t have a hard time believing it either, you think. sometimes your own friends like to poke fun at you themselves. 

you’re always with him, are you sure you’re not in love with the guy at this point? nobara always likes to snort at you.

why does professor gojo even keep you around? you’re too lazy—you must give good head, megumi tends to tease as he raises a brow with amused eyes.

with how often you’re in professor gojo’s room, you might as well have a crush on him, yuji sometimes giggles.

surely, with how often you’re seen in the coffee shop with him as he grades papers and how often he likes to tease you when you show up to his classroom sometimes to drop off papers, students would certainly take the rumors and spread them like wildfire if professor geto says even the littlest thing. 

you look at him with wobbly lips as you whisper, “please don’t tell anyone,” you sniffle, “i…maybe there’s something we can do…to keep you from…”

the two of them look at you in shock—they stare at you for a moment, stare at the crystalline tears welling up in your eyes, at the soft little tremor in your lips, at the sweet little sniffles you try to hide. then, as if in sync, their eyes meet each other’s before finding you once more.

“oh, that’s precious,” professor geto chuckles, “she really is a keeper, satoru—she even looks pretty when she cries. i’m almost jealous.”

“don’t look for too long, suguru,” satoru grumbles—and then, “listen, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. suguru’s not gonna—”

“well, if there is something you’d wanna do for me,” professor geto cuts satoru off, his voice a low drawl as he walks closer, hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your face up, “i suppose i can keep my mouth shut.”

“anything,” you nod quickly.

you’re so eager to please, he thinks—so perfect and sweet and pliant, that suguru thinks he might actually really be jealous that somehow, it was satoru who caught your attention. how did this all start? when did it start? how long has it been going on? do you have real feelings for each other? or is it just a pleasurable business kind of deal? do you meet up outside of campus? does he take you to the next town over to freely walk around with you on dates? do you kiss sweetly sometimes instead of with hunger? have you ever spent a night in his bed? do you sleep better beside each other, wrapped in the other’s arms?

there are so many, many questions suguru wants to ask. the potential answers to all of them make him a bit more unhappy than he cares to admit. something in him wonders how things might’ve had to play out in order to land you in his office instead—but…but if you’re offering anything, why not take advantage of the offer?

“anything?” he asks, looking at you amused, “you know, princess, anything is a dangerous offer. what if i asked to join? what if i asked to fuck you here in this office so your secret is safe?”

you blink up at him for a moment at his words—they’re a bit shocking. professor geto…doesn’t think this is wrong? clearly, he doesn’t if he’s willing to take part. but that doesn’t sound half bad. not even in the slightest. 

they’re a popular pair: professor gojo and geto are all people on campus ever talk about. those two professors who happen to be best friends. they’re not much older than you either—can’t be past their early thirties, even if they don’t look a day over twenty. 

did you know they used to go to college together? i heard they’ve known each other since high school. apparently, they applied to work here together and only took the offer up once the other agreed. it’s all people ever gossip about when they mention them both. it’s always about how close they are, how deep their bond is, how there is never one without the other. and then, of course, there are those…the less than appropriate comments you occasionally hear the other girls make. i bet professor gojo gives the best head—he’s always sucking on some lollipop. i’d let professor geto do nasty things to me while i read his literature books out loud to him—he’s too fine. i can take both of them—and i don’t mean their classes. 

it’s…not exactly a bad offer that he gives you, you think to yourself. it’s an enticing one, in fact. you get to have them both—professor geto isn’t any less attractive than satoru and…and well, you’d really like for him to keep this a secret, so it’s a bit of a win-win. plus, you’re sure he wouldn’t risk spilling such delicate information when it would put his career at risk, too—it seems like the perfect leverage.

you look at your old literature professor with a nod as you murmur, “then i’d say you should make sure to lock the door this time—we don’t want to make the same mistake twice, do we?”

his eyes sparkle in amusement at that, a low chuckle falling from his pretty lips as he shakes his head at you—you’re even better than he expected. satoru is so, so lucky he’s got to have you to himself all this time. it’s criminally unfair. 

“hey,” satoru pouts from behind, still sitting in his chair and still painfully hard as his throbbing cock sits between his legs unattended. “you both are forgetting about me,” he whines.

professor geto—or rather, suguru, you suppose, only looks at his best friend in amusement. “now, satoru—what have i always told you about sharing? here—” he walks over and pulls satoru to stand before taking the seat himself and patting his thigh as he looks at you with a sly grin, “why don’t i get to feel your pussy, and satoru can have your mouth like before? then we both get what we want.”

“bossy as ever, suguru,” satoru chuckles, but there’s something in his eyes—something darker and more excited than you’ve ever seen them.

“get her ready for me,” suguru hums, fingers making quick work to unbuckle his belt and free his hardened cock. you can’t help but stare, can’t help but watch as he wraps his fist around his hardened length and runs his thumb through his slit with a low moan. 

he’s not as long, but he’s thicker than satoru—you can easily tell he won’t be any easier to take. you watch attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of his cock with this thumb as he strokes upward, rolling around his tip before stroking down and squeezing at the base. you watch his lips tug between his teeth, a soft moan ripping from his throat as he touches himself in the way he likes best.

you’ll remember what he likes, you think—you can sense this might not be your first and last opportunity to see suguru like this. and next time? well, next time, it’ll be your hand touching his cock and pulling those pretty little sighs and groans from him instead of his own.

“eyes on me, sweetheart,” satoru hums, pulling you to stand before gently guiding your back to fall against his desk, fingers looping into your waistband and pulling your pants down your legs. you can hear the sharp inhale suguru takes as soon as the wetness of your folds is on display, as soon as your puffy clit and dripping pussy are there for him to see so clearly. “watch carefully, suguru,” satoru grins, “she’s pretty when she cums.”

“i can imagine,” suguru muses, “alright then. show me.”

instantly, satoru’s fingers are intruding into your cunt—it’s familiar, the sensation of his digits bullying past your folds and curling against your sweet spot. he’s already knuckles deep, already pressing the tips of his fingers into the back of your walls as far as they’ll go, spreading you open and scissoring you apart. it feels good—it always does, and when his palm rolls across your clit? you can’t help but let out a whiny moan that earns a groan from suguru as he fists his cock tighter. 

“god, she even sounds so pretty,” he pants, watching as satoru’s fingers slip in and out of your pretty cunt, at the way it all but sucks them in itself as it flutters around him. everything about you is perfect—but your face is by far suguru’s favorite. the way it twists with pleasure as satoru slams his fingers against your spot mercilessly with every thrust of his wrist has him fighting off his orgasm—his fist slowing down to a teasing edge as he grunts at the way he lets his pleasure die down for the sake of really feeling you. 

“that feel good, angel?” satoru asks, grinning down at you. 

you nod quickly, head thrown back against the wooden desk as you stutter, “y-yes…s-so good, toru.”

“toru?” suguru asks, “do i get a nickname too? make sure you come up with one for me, yeah?”

it’s almost like you don’t hear him, too busy on the way satoru drags along your walls with every time his fingers sink into you. “toru, toru—s-slow down, ‘m g-gonna…”

“slow down?” satoru gasps—his pace only quickens at that as he gives you a mocking pout, “you want me to slow down, sweetheart? you never ask me to slow down, it’s always faster, toru. faster, please! from you. you don’t wanna give suguru the wrong idea, do you? he’ll think i haven’t taught you how to take it like a good girl.”

suguru snorts at that, slowly dragging his hand up and down his sensitive cock—it’s red at the tip, flushed, and leaky enough that it’s easy to tell he’s aching for release.

“hurry up, satoru,” he grits, biting his lip as he fights back another orgasm and stills his hand, keeping it tightened around the base of his length, “we haven’t got all day.”

“can’t rush making my pretty girl cum, suguru,” satoru gasps, “she deserves the best. look at this pussy—” he gives pulls his fingers out to give your clit attention, rubbing your slick over the sensitive bud as you gasp, writhing over his desk, “—see how perfect it is? you gotta treat it like that too.”

as if from his words alone, as if you get off on the way satoru praises your cunt to his best friend who watches you get stuffed to the brim with his fingers, you whimper before cumming—your pussy fluttering around nothing, walls spasming and dripping with slick as he toys with your clit. 

“toru—toru, ‘m cumming…cumming—oh,” you babble, thighs quivering as his thumb doesn’t let up from your abused clit, watching as your hand reaches for his wrist weakly to halt his movements. “‘s too much,” you sniffle.

“too much?” suguru gasps, “how will you take me, then, princess? don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”

“nah,” satoru grins, chuckling, “she’s got plenty left in her. she can take it.” with that, he hooks an arm under your waist and helps you sit up, leaning down to kiss you softly as you let out a muffled whine against his lips. “you’re ready for suguru, aren’t you, baby? prepped you nice and good to take him, didn’t i?”

you nod, mumbling a soft, “uh huh,” in agreement.

“that’s my good girl,” he coos, grinning as he presses a wet kiss to your forehead. 

suguru, patient as ever with a stiff, aching cock standing between his muscled thighs, holds an arm out for you as he murmurs, “c’mere then, princess. can’t back out of our deal yet, can you?” you walk over to him on wobbly legs, letting him pull you to sit on his lap, back flush against his chest as his hands guide your hips. he taps the head of his cock against your clit as he lines your entrance up with his length before pulling you to sit, slowly inching you down on him bit by bit as he gasps at the way you squeeze around him instantly. “h-holy—fuck, such a tight fuckin’ pussy. ‘s like i can barely even move,” he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder as he pants.

satoru walks over, staring down at you as you’re seated on suguru’s lap before cupping your cheek and rubbing over the soft skin with his thumb. “you can take both of us, right sweetheart? you’re just too good not to, aren’t ya?”

you nod eagerly, letting the tip of his cock tap against your lip, tongue moving to lick across his slit and make him groan. he’s painfully hard—cock swollen and neglected for so long, you almost forgot that he’s been waiting for your mouth to take him again after being interrupted. your jaw slacks as you let him thrust his hips and fuck his length into you, tip hitting the back of your throat as you choke around him. 

“fuck,” satoru hisses lowly, biting his lip as his hands grab your hair and keep you in place while he ruts into your mouth, “fuck, baby. never get tired of how good this mouth feels—takes me so fuckin’ well. jus’ love feelin’ me down your throat, huh?”

you can’t do anything but let out a muffled cry, feeling the fat tip of suguru’s cock nudge against your sweet spot—it’s just as effortless: the way he finds your most sensitive part. just as effortless as satoru. maybe that’s why they get along so well, maybe they’re connected in that way. 

“oh, princess,” suguru moans, panting against your ear as he lets out a breathy moan, “fuck, that’s good—so, good. can hardly move with the way you’re squeezing me. greedy little pussy, isn’t it?”

you whine as you feel his arm wrap around you, finger rolling over your puffy clit as his hips snap upwards and fuck into you, cock dragging along your walls and stretching you enough that you can hardly think straight. he’s big—it feels like he’s almost splitting you open with his girth as his hips roll up and sink him deeper into your cunt.

“she’s…she’s perfect,” suguru pants, “keepin’ this all to yourself? how selfish of you, satoru.”

“she’s mine,” satoru whines, cock pushing past your lips as he speaks, the way your tongue glides along his vein making his cheeks flush as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open with a breathless moan. “she’s too good to share with you. you d-don’t deserve her.”

“yeah? and you do?” suguru chuckles—it sounds more like a labored pant, his breath harsh as he groans into your neck when you flutter particularly tightly around him, forehead falling to dig into your shoulder, “she’s suckin’ me in. think she wants me. don’t you, pretty girl? you want me to cum inside you, right? make you mine too?”

“y-yes,” you mewl, popping off satoru’s length as you whimper when suguru chuckles and gives your clit a light slap, back arching against him as he pushes his cock past your folds again, “yes, wan’ it. wan’ it so, so bad—need it.”

“see,” he raises a brow towards satoru, “knew it.”

you can see the way satoru’s cock twitches at that—at the way you fall apart on suguru’s lap as the latter digs his head into your shoulder as he breathes harshly, chasing his release desperately as he ruts into your slick pussy. you can see the way satoru’s tip is flushed a harsh red, leaking with pre cum as he aches to spill cum down your throat, so you let him push past your lips once more—but not before giving his tip a delicate kiss. 

“she’s my girl,” satoru grunts, “mine, mine, mine—knows how to make me cum. kn-knows how to take me so good, right baby?”

and as if to answer him, you suck around his tip, swallowing around his length and making him groan as his hips stutter and cum paints your throat white as it fills your mouth. you try to swallow every drop, try to take what he gives you as he fucks into you desperately and chases the pleasure of his high. thick, hot ropes of cum spill from the corners of your lips as satoru fucks his load into you, panting as his hips sloppily roll and work himself through his orgasm.

“that’s right, sweetheart,” he groans lowly, “take it, yeah? god—fuck, feels so good, baby. ‘m c-cumming.”

you make a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp as suguru’s thumb rubs harshly against your swollen clit, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groans, hips just as sloppy as satoru’s in his pace that it tells you he’s close too—and then he twitches into your pussy, cock burying into you once, twice, three more times before he groans too.

“gonna cum, princess? ‘cause ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum—fill you up and make you mine. you want that right? want me to—f-fuck, fuck ‘m close, so close,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, letting out a needy whine into your skin before spilling into you. you can feel hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as his tip nudges back into you and pushes his load as deep as he can.

and you fall apart too, coming undone a second time as your walls hug around him tightly, head falling back as you mewl a high pitched, “s-sugu—c-can’t…’s too much—”

“you can take it, pretty,” he hums, “know you can. you’re too precious not to, right?”

it’s messy—it’s downright filthy, in fact, the way his cum and your slick mix and drip along your inner thighs, making a mess on satoru’s chair. you pant as your pussy pulses around him before coming down from your high, falling slack in his arms against his chest as he chuckles and presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“fuck,” he breathes, “you’re something else. who’d have thought my favorite little student from a previous semester could do all that?”

“isn’t she a dime?” satoru chuckles proudly, reaching for the corner of your mouth with his thumb, collecting a stray drop of cum and pushing it back past your lips and onto your tongue, humming approvingly as you swallow. “precious, isn’t she?”

“of course,” suguru nods, with a grin, leaning to peck your shoulder, “so, tell me. which professor would you take again?”

satoru purses his lips as he glares. “this isn’t rate my professor, suguru. and don’t get used to thi—”

“well,” you hum, interrupting as you bat your lashes sweetly at both of them, “why i can’t just take both of you again?”

guess who’s posting their october first kinktober fic literally 40 mins before it’s october second ?? if it’s not procrastinated, it’s not reached its full potential

[freaktoru]

ONLY GOOD GIRLS GET GOOD GRADES!

✰ pairing: professor!sylus x fem!reader ✰ summary: desperate to raise your failing grade, you meet professor sylus in his office where he gives you feedback that looks a little different from what you expected. wc; 4.9k (im so sorry) ✰ warnings: use of pet names, dirty talk, fingering, oral m!receiving, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, slight dom/sub dynamics, power play, pussy slapping (once), minor cum play, some thigh riding, size kink bcz sylus is huge, tummy bulge, choking, kinda pet play, sylus might be abit ooc (sorry i tired), 18+ MDNI ✰ note: first time writing for sylus, i hope i did him justice. guys those slutty fucking glasses get me everytime. likes and reblogs always appreciated <3

You exhale a shaky breath, looking down at your paper through blurry eyes. Thick, wet tears prick at the corners, threatening to fall onto the big, mocking red ink that displays your grade. A fucking fail. 

Having been a straight A student throughout university—and really, for as long as you could remember—you couldn’t wrap your head around how things had spiraled to this point. Any grade below an A had always been unthinkable for you. But now, for the first time in your life, you were actually failing a class.

You thought that you might actually be losing it— that all the non-stop studying you’ve been doing must be finally getting to you. All those all-nighters and sleep deprived study days, all the long readings and writing until you can’t feel your hand— you might have finally achieved what they call ‘burnout’. 

No, that just couldn’t be right. Every other prof handed you A’s without a fight, but professor Sylus? The bastard had you fighting a war you were never meant to win—just to leave you with failing grades and nothing to show for it.

Though despite his harsh grading style, he was a good professor—there was no doubt about that. Always so clear and concise with his assignment instructions, answering every single question he was asked during lecture, and always providing his students with the most thorough and meticulous feedback. Yes, he sure was a good and generous professor—to everyone but you.

If it weren’t for your disappointing grades, one might say you were actually his best student. Sitting in the very first row of his class, listening so attentively to every word he spoke with that deep, soothing voice of his, and always wearing a cute lil’ skirt, paired with thigh high socks. Perfect student? Your grades might suggest otherwise but at least you managed to look the part.  

Professor Sylus however, didn’t see you that way. Sure, you always had interesting points to add to his lecture and great questions to ask him, but god, he couldn’t lie to himself— your too good, eager to learn attitude fucking pissed him off. Always raising your hand with that stupid excitement every time he asked a question, never forgetting to thank him after class like the good student you were, and looking like a little fucking whore — jesus, it drove him nuts.

And that’s exactly why he failed you— you were just too good. His gaze lingered on you anytime he returned a grade to you, watching your brows furrow and your face twist with confusion through his piercing red eyes. He didn’t mean to look—but fuck, he always did. Your frustration simply amused him. 

This little game of his might be wrong— some might even call it unethical, but he couldn’t help it. Some fucked up part of him wanted to see just how far a perfect student like you would go for a passing grade—what kind of unspeakable lines you’d cross to get what you wanted.  

You clutched the paper in your hand, crumpling it up, as the hours of painstaking writing—to meet his absurd instructions and demands— became absolutely meaningless. Looking up, you found him leaning with his arms crossed on the wooden lectern, looking at you through watchful eyes— lips pulled into an amused, lazy smirk. Fucking bastard. 

The class was finally over and people were slowly pouring out of the room, everyone leaving with graded papers in hand. Throwing your own, now, crumpled paper in your bag, you stood up, walking up to the front of the class. Sylus looked like he’d been waiting ages for this moment. 

“Sir, do you mind if I speak to you about my grade?” you ask, trying to keep your erratic emotions under control. You were fuming. Without a doubt, you deserved an A for that paper. But what really got to you was how effortlessly confident he looked, fully knowing he was failing you. 

“What, not happy with your grade?” he drawled slowly, his tall frame towering over you, studying you intently through his thin, frameless glasses. 

“To be honest sir, not at all. I was just wondering if you could give me some feedback” you replied, eyes fixed on your hands, nervously twiddling your thumbs, too afraid to meet his burning gaze. 

“I'll be at the university charity event until later this evening, you can come by my office afterwards. Room 305” he said flatly, his eyes wandering over your body, scanning over your ridiculously slutty outfit. Looking up at him, you nodded, giving him a quick “thank you” before leaving the room. His self-assured demeanor had a way of making your confidence flawlessly melt away. It disgusted you.

The rest of your day was spent in nervous anticipation, drifting in and out of focus during every class. You spent too much time in your head, thinking and crafting the perfect things to say to your professor—desperately hoping that he would be reasonable enough to raise your grade.

Hours later, with the sun sinking low in the sky and your head weighed down by the stress of your day, you finally found yourself planted in front of the dark brown wood door that was labelled as room 305. Nervous sweat beaded at your forehead as you stood there, arms glued at your sides, fingernails digging into your palms. This was fucking nerve wracking. You lifted a trembling knuckle to the door, lightly knocking before hearing a faint “Come in.”

Walking into the office, you saw your professor sitting behind his desk, wearing just a half buttoned dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves— holding that same, mocking red pen between his fingers. 

“Sit” was all he said without looking up from his page, pointing to the red leather armchair that stood in front of his desk. Red eyes, red leather chair and ridiculous red ink. Sitting down, you pressed your thighs together, placing your hands nervously in your lap. Your stomach felt like it was running laps—fluttering and twisting from the anxiety.

His office was pristine and expensive, just like him—decorated throughout with rich red, gold, and black accents. Not a speck of dust could be found in sight—the only semblance of a mess being visible on his dark, wooden desk. Books and stacks of papers to grade were scattered across it, with a pack of those awful red pens on top—almost like they were placed there just to mock you.

“You wanted to see me?” he questioned, scribbling comments on the paper he was currently grading—clearly too occupied to meet your eyes. You shifted nervously in your seat, reaching down to retrieve your crumpled paper from your bag. 

“Y-Yes, I was wondering what I could have done differently on my essay” you replied, noting how silly and small his pen looked in contrast to his big, slender hands. Sighing, he put it down, his red eyes finally shifting to meet your own. A warm rush made its way up your cheeks, turning them a light shade of pink. With a long finger, he adjusted his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, then folded his arms across his broad chest.

Finally, your professor spoke up. “Fix your spelling” was all he said, leaning back in his chair, not sparing your paper a second glance. Your eyes widened. That was it? All he had to say was to fix your spelling?

“But sir, I don’t think I had any spelling mistakes, I read my paper over at least ten times before handing it in,” you countered. You weren’t one to argue about your grades—it wasn’t in your nature, but fuck, was this starting to piss you off. 

“Fix your punctuation then” he said lazily, clearly putting little to no effort into the feedback he was giving you. What could he say to such a perfect student like yourself? There was nothing he could have asked you to improve. 

“I also looked over that before submitting my paper” you protested, growing angry with his lazy attitude. This is not how you expected this to go. 

“Then fix whatever else needs to be fixed” he stated plainly, still leaned back in his chair, watching the growing anger spread across your face with a calm, measured gaze.

“I don't understand” you huffed hopelessly. He was impossible. But fine, if he wanted to play this stupid game, you would play.

He hummed lightly, a playful smile pulling at his lips. Sylus was enjoying this—maybe a little too much. Standing up, he walked from behind his desk to the right side of the room, towards the big wall of bookshelves. Your eyes carefully followed him, watching his slender fingers trail slowly over the books.

“I’m sorry sir, I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. I’m frustrated because no matter what I do, my work never seems to please you” you admitted quietly, lowering your eyes back down to your fidgeting hands—a nervous habit of yours—that no matter what you did, you couldn’t seem to break. 

Sylus chuckled a deep laugh. “Please me? Your work is always a pleasure to read.” he replies smoothly, his surprising compliment sending an unusual warm sliver of hope mixed with pleasure down your spine.

Sylus was testing you—playing with you. He’d become too invested in this little game of his and now he finally had you pinned down right where he wanted you—at his mercy.

“Then what can I do to get a better grade in your class?” you ask, muttering the question quietly. For the second time just today, tears were threatening to escape your eyes. 

Gaze still locked on your nervous hands, you didn’t actually notice him walk across the room. Flinching slightly, you felt him place his hands on either side of the leather armchair behind you, bringing his lips close to your ear—his warm breath sending goosebumps racing over your trembling skin. Frozen in place, you anxiously awaited his next move.

“Don’t you get it? Only good girls get good grades.” you felt his soft whisper hit the shell of your ear. This was so wrong, he was too close to you—closer than a professor should ever get to his student. But if this was so wrong, why were your thighs pressed against each other, desperately trying to suppress your warm arousal from settling in your panties? 

Speechless, you were unsure of what to say. His tone hovered just on the edge of seduction, and you felt his gaze on you—sharp and deliberate, as if he were studying you. Sylus was lingering on the brink of sweet and forbidden temptation, waiting to see if you’d step in with him. 

He moved his head to the other side of yours, his warm, steady breath now tickling your other ear. 

“Awww, has the kitten lost her claws?” he said, his taunt a mere whisper, ghosting over your skin. That you had. Your anger had begun to dissipate, slowly being overridden by an unfamiliar feeling of arousal. Every shift in his movements, every word he spoke, blurred the line between right and wrong a little more.

“S-Sir” was all you managed to utter. He was hovering over you, gently running his finger tips up and down the length of the arm chair. Your own hands were clutching onto the hem of your skirt, fidgeting nervously with the fabric. 

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he asked mockingly, raising an amused eyebrow at your stunned, silent state. 

You were heavily debating the ethical implications of your current situation. On one hand, you were a fair student—one who’d never go as far as fuck her professor for a better grade. On the other hand, it couldn’t be a coincidence that you only dressed the way you did for professor Sylus’s class, only answered his questions with that stupid excitement, and only ever went as far as you currently found yourself—just for him. Fuck, this was already bordering on morally wrong, but you couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling you felt low in your core— the slick coating your panties. There was truly no denying the fact that you craved your disgustingly attractive professor's attention and praise. 

Dropping your head down lower, you managed to mutter out the most pathetic question you’d probably ever asked, “Am I not good enough sir?” 

Letting out a quiet laugh, he walked in front of where you were sitting, easily pushing your pressed thighs apart with just his leg. Warm fingers met with your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. Sylus was nearly twice your size and absurdly tall, forcing you to crane your neck just to meet his gaze.

“You’re arguably my best student”

“Sir, I—”

“But what kind of good student dresses like a little whore? What kind of good student comes begging her professor for better grades? Hm?” he cuts you off, lightly tugging on your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You try to stop your restless trembling, try to stop the arousal from running through your body—but it's no use, those red, hungry eyes can see right through you—can see how worked up he has you. 

“Open up, kitten” he taps your chin and your mouth falls open, lips parting for him without question. Sylus has finally crossed that deliciously dangerous line—and you crossed it right with him. 

He pushes his thumb into your mouth, smiling as you eagerly wrap your wet lips around it, playfully swirling it with your tongue. He chuckles at the drastic switch up in your attitude—going from angry to obedient within minutes. 

Placing his other hand on the chair beside your head, he removes his finger from your mouth with a little ‘pop’. Sylus puts a knee on the chair between your legs, and brushes his fingertips down your skin, letting them travel to your thigh. His eyes are locked on yours, not wanting to miss a single flicker of emotion that crosses them.

You gasp at the feeling of his fingers meeting your inner thigh, gently squeezing and playing with its soft skin.

“Tell me something sweetie. Do you dress like this for every professor?” his voice a low, sultry whisper. Another wave of arousal courses through you, now passing through your soaked panties and settling in the armchair. Oops. 

“N-No sir” you reply breathlessly, too busy relishing in his warm, electric touch. Sylus moves his hand further under your ridiculously short skirt, long fingers meeting with your lacy, drenched panties. 

“Oh? She’s wet.” he purrs his surprise in your ear, and you think you might cum right then and there. His voice is so hot it’s fucking dangerous. You’d already crossed a line you swore you never would—but you hadn’t expected to get addicted so soon.

Your panties are pushed aside and two long fingers find their way into your dripping pussy. “Fuck” you moan at the intrusion, hand grabbing onto his strong arm that rests on the chair beside your head. 

“Such filthy words, kitten” he clicks his tongue mockingly, gently using two fingers to push every smart, coherent thought out of your brain.

“Sorry s-sir” you mutter the apology, ready to do anything to please him—anything to get that A. 

You whimper at a third finger being added into your tight cunt, your whole body already feeling overstimulated from all the attention. Sylus lets out a degrading laugh, enjoying watching you squirm from his fingers. So worked up already, how were you going to take his cock? 

“Too much already?” he lowers his lips to yours, mumbling the mocking taunt against them. You whine, pathetically rutting your hips up against his hand. You’re desperate for it—desperate for his touch. You had spent so many classes dreaming about this moment, fantasizing about what it would be like—now that you finally had it, you didn’t want to let go.

Sylus is thoroughly enjoying this—watching your chest heavily rise and fall with every shallow breath, struggling to keep your eyes open and fighting against the pleasure—it was the only thing he ever wanted to see.

The pleasure pulses through your body as you feel your climax quickly approaching. Throwing your head back on the chair, you let out pleasurable mewls and moans as Sylus’s fingers speed up their pace inside you. You finally meet your blissful end when his thumb lands softly on your clit, rubbing and playing with it. The fucker knew all too well what he was doing— dangling your orgasm on the edge like that. 

“Mmh—ah, fuck” you breathe out the moan, feeling the string of pleasure in your core finally snap. You arch your back off the chair, pulsing as you release your warm cum all over his fingers.

“That’s a good kitty” he pulls his fingers out, and you yelp when he lands a harsh slap on your swollen pussy. Amusement flickers in his eyes—did you really think he’d hand it all over to you without a fight? Stupid kitten.

Lifting his wet fingers to your neck, you feel him wiping them against the stretch of it, spreading your cum all over your bare skin. 

Your head tilts easily to the side with two of his fingers, allowing him better access to the exposed, glistening skin of your neck. He begins licking your cum off of it, dragging his tongue up and down—quickly pushing you right back into a state of arousal. It’s just too much. His mouth reaches the base of your neck, grazing his teeth over it before unexpectedly biting down, making you cry out.  

“Sir ah—”

A hand quickly clasps over your mouth, shutting you up. Sylus releases your pulsing skin from his sharp teeth, lightly nuzzling his face in your neck before moving his lips back to your ear.

“Shhh kitten, wouldn’t want anyone hearing your feedback would you?” he whispers, finishing off with a little nibble on your earlobe. 

That’s right. If someone heard you, you would likely be expelled and Professor Sylus would be fired—never to see a classroom again. But somehow the thrill of getting caught made it all the more exciting for you.

“N-No sir” you answer, keeping your voice quiet and small. 

Without another word, Sylus grabs your waist, scooping you up into his arms. Your breath hitches from the sudden motion as he switches your positions on his chair, sitting himself down in your place, and placing you in his lap. He’s so fucking big, your legs can’t quite straddle both of his—so you adjust, sliding onto one thick thigh instead.

Sylus groans at your shift, feeling his hard erection poking through his tight pants. You look down, devilishly smiling at it, suddenly sensing a flicker of control return to you. Looks like you’re not the only one who’s all worked up.

“Professor, is this the kind of feedback you give all your students?” you ask teasingly, purposely dragging out every word in the sentence.

His eyes darken, and you can almost feel his gaze burning right through you. “Just you” he replies rather possessively, tightening his grip on your waist. You make a mental note of this minor crack in his composure. Interesting.

Bringing your face closer to his, your lips hover over his—realizing you hadn’t even kissed him yet. Sylus had made you cum before even kissing you.

A big hand travels to the nape of your neck, pulling you down closer to him. Your lips crash onto his—the two of you quickly entering a fight for control. Naturally, Sylus wins, kissing you ravenously and passionately, claiming every inch of your mouth as his. 

“You know sweetie, my job is in your hands” he pulls away momentarily, muttering the almost pleading words against your lips. Another fracture in that carefully built composure—he was finally grasping the gravity of the situation.

You press your forehead to his, closing in the space between you. “And my degree is in yours” you whisper before pressing your desperate lips back on his—mind too clouded with lust to discuss what stupid things the pair of you had done.

Desperate for his touch again, you start rubbing yourself on his thigh, urgently grinding—hips begging for more. Letting your hand travel to his bulge, you feel Sylus tense briefly, before melting into your touch, allowing you to paw at him like a kitten as much as you pleased. 

Sylus never expected himself to go down this road—his favorite student grinding desperately on his lap, palming his cock and begging for his attention—it was ridiculous. By no means does Sylus consider himself a saint, but this certainly was a new step in his constant battle with morality. Now he had truly fucked up. 

Long fingers tug at the hem of your shirt, letting him pull it over your head, leaving you in just your cute pink lacy bra. He easily unclasps it with one hand, exposing your bare chest to him. He groans at the sight of your hardening nipples, his eyes displaying quite possibly the hungriest expression you’d ever seen. 

Fingers meet with your nipples, and he pinches, letting a painful whimper escape your lips. His hands begin squishing them softly, soothing the tingling pain. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. With his composure slowly crumbling, and you getting hotter and more worked up by the minute—he just couldn’t do it. 

“Fuck” he grunts, waiting no longer to pick you up and lay you down on the desk. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching Sylus quickly push off all the papers and pens around you, creating as much room as he needs to do whatever he desires with you. 

You swore you felt the air around you change—suddenly becoming overbearingly hot and thick with lust. Sylus had a raw, animalistic energy about him—an insatiable hunger that he desperately needed to fix. 

He bunches your skirt up around your waist, pushing your panties aside with just his thumb. “Fuck, kitten you’re already fucking wet again” he growls, fisting his thick length through his pants. You moan, letting yourself surrender to the pleasure of his fingers yet again—surprised when it doesn't feel the same. Clearly, your desperate need has grown. Your pussy is soaked and swollen, begging for a much bigger form of attention. 

As if reading your mind, he unbuttons his pants, letting his thick, hard, cock pop out before you. You audibly gasp at the sight, admiring his full length—practically drooling at the thought of all that being inside of you. He’s fucking huge.

“I-Is that going to fit?” you stutter stupidly, eyes glued on the sight of his cock. 

“You’ll be a good girl and take it all won’t you?” he replies in a low, husky voice, looking at you through half-lidded, lust filled eyes. Your wide-eyed expression amuses him more than it should—and he can’t help but admire it.

“I-I’ll try my best” you reply, nervous, yet so desperately eager to please.

He grabs your thighs, pulling you closer to where he stands at the edge of the desk. Sylus lowers his mouth to your panties, biting down on them and slowly pulling them off using just his teeth. You shudder a little, feeling another flush of need ripple through your body. 

He studies you intently, admiring every curve and inch of your exposed skin. Your cheeks flush, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. 

He doesn’t let you though, instead, he lifts your legs, placing one on each of his shoulders—essentially rendering you helpless under his touch. His cock head prods at your entrance— thick and leaking with precum. 

“Ready, kitten?” he adds in a thick voice, leaning down closer to you, almost folding you in half. You nod quickly— practically reeling with impatience. 

A long whine escapes your lips as he pushes just the tip in, pulse hammering as you struggle to handle the stretch. You bite down hard on your lip, feeling a metallic taste fill your mouth. There was no way it was going all in. No fucking way. But it would. Sylus would make it fit. 

“So tight kitten, I’ve only put the tip in and you’re struggling already?” he asks in between ragged breaths, slowly pushing his cock further in. 

“Sylus—sir p-please wait” you rasp out, overwhelmed by the stretch. He’s not even halfway in and tears are already beading at the corners of your rolled back eyes—and you couldn’t help feeling like you were being split in half. 

“I didn’t know we were on a first name basis now, kitten. I have to say, I enjoy hearing my name on your lips” he drawls, wrapping a hand around your neck, squeezing it lightly. 

“I-I’m sorry” comes out as a pathetic, breathy stutter as you ball your fists, desperately clutching on to the air around you. You’ve never felt so stretched out before, so blissfully full. 

He slowly pushes the rest of his thick cock in, coating it in your slick. Your back arches off the desk and you moan, finally letting those tears escape your blurry eyes. You can’t form a single coherent sentence or thought anymore—he’s pushed that ability out of you entirely with his cock. 

“Crying already?” he mocks, wiping a tear with his thumb. He’s so mean, mocking and teasing your every expression, fully aware of what he’s doing to you. Being at your professors mercy like this—it’s actually humiliating, but also so fucking arousing.

“Please d-don’t move” you inhale sharply, trying your best to adjust to both his length and his width. He removes his other hand from the desk, pushing down on your stomach, admiring the bulge visible through your skin. He has you filled so nicely, the curve of him pushing up beneath your skin, marking you from both inside and out.

Your pathetic please falls on deaf ears, and he starts slowly moving his hips in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot with the head of his cock over and over again. You choke out a sob between moans, barely keeping your eyes open. 

“Eyes on me, kitten” his voice pulls you out of your trance. Your eyelids feel so heavy but you obey, noticing how every thrust makes his glasses slide a little further down the bridge of nose. The sight was erotic. 

His pace was absolutely agonizing. The sheer stretch of him, paired with everything else, left you impossibly overstimulated— moaning and whimpering around his cock. The room was filled with lewd sounds, echoing and bouncing off the walls, every moan and groan reminding you of the forbidden moment the two of you found yourselves in.

“Nngh—Sylus, fuck” you whine, unable to take all the pleasure. It was too much all at once. 

“What is it sweetie? You’re doing so well” he purrs, lifting his hand from your throat to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. How sweet. 

You look so blissfully fucked out. Your forehead is glistening with sweat, eyes drooping low and voice slowly losing itself to the pleasure coursing through you. Of all the things Sylus had seen, this? This was truly unforgettable.

His pace was bordering on frantic—the feeling of his tip hitting your cervix was literally tearing you apart. “P-Please, I’m gonna come” you cry out in between harsh sobs—feeling like you were being held captive by the pleasure—unable to rip away.

“Go on” is all he says before your body releases, convulsing from pleasure, your sweet orgasm finally crashing over you. Toes curl in your shoes, and your hand grabs onto his, gripping him so tight your knuckles begin to turn white. Sylus only chuckles at your quivering body, and continues fucking into you until he reaches his own high.

“N-no more, please, no more” you whine, desperately trying to push him away when he doesn’t stop mercilessly pounding into you. 

“You can take it, kitten” he replies with a grunt, slowing down his pace as he approaches his climax.

“Shit—” you barely hear him mutter under his breath, as his cock begins to throb inside of you, releasing thick strands of his own cum inside you warm walls. His breathing is shallow, glasses barely holding onto his nose, as he drops his head down, keeping himself buried deep inside you. 

You both stay there a while longer, catching your breath and letting the last pulses of pleasure escape your shuddering bodies. Sylus finally pulls out of you, and you prop yourself up on trembling elbows. 

“Aren’t you going to clean up your mess?” he asks—your eyes visibly widening as you instantly understand what he means. 

Sylus takes a step back from the desk, sitting back down in that damn red armchair. You barely manage to slide off the desk, almost stepping on that mocking pack of red pens— which have now made their home on the ground after Sylus had pushed them off the desk. Fuck those red pens. Fuck the colour red. 

He leans back lazily, a playful smirk pulled on his lips. You drop to your knees in front of him, wrapping two hands around his half-hard cock. Your tongue meets the tip and you begin to kitten lick every drop of cum, cleaning every inch of it like the good girl you were. 

When you finish, Sylus zips himself back up, and tilts your head up with two fingers. 

“Good kitty” he purrs, gently rubbing his thumb along your jaw. 

“Sir?” you ask after a brief moment of silence, looking up into those burning red eyes.

“Hm?”

“A-About my grade” you trail off nervously. Kneeling before him like this, the weight of your own desperation burned bright on your cheeks—it was fucking humiliating.

He’d been waiting for you to ask him the burning question—seeing how far you went before you begged for a better grade.

“Didn’t I tell you? Only good girls get good grades” he echoes his earlier words, voice so sweet it was practically dripping with honey. 

“I don’t understand?” 

“Good girls don’t fuck their professors for A’s”

© @blessedmisery 2025

[satoruhour]

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops—

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:

you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai &lt;3 ok gn

[visenyaism]

as a teacher/recent grad student, do you have any advice for someone who’s about to start college? i’d love just some general advice, but also i’m feeling pretty disheartened by all the chatgpt use at my high school bc i feel like my friends think i believe i’m morally better for not using it, when i really just want to get my full education.

Rules of going to college:

1. Get over yourself and ask for help when you need to. This is the only way out and through.

2. Speaking of: there is no problem in the world that cannot be solved by emailing the right people and politely asking for help. Extensions, questions, tuition, credits, etc.

3. Seriously go to office hours. It’s okay to be scared to go to office hours but you should still do it. Go say hi or ask the prof about their research or help with a paper. Building any kind of relationship with your professors and TAs goes so far.

4. Actually doing the reading will put you in the top like 10% of the class. Try your best to do the reading always if that fails skim it and write down what you could talk about from it.

5. Have some kind of planner. Mine was a weekly to do list in my notes app that I updated for all my classes every Thursday when my planner alarm went off.

6. Volunteer somewhere off campus. It makes you feel more connected to the community, you meet new people, and can help you figure out what you’re passionate about.

7. Go outside. Say yes to things. Talk to people. Sometimes life-changing opportunities happen as a result of random coincidences. Go to class, but once in a blue moon you have to skip it to lie in a nice patch of sun and get coffee. 

8. If you get drunk off of bad cheap alcohol before you go to sleep you need to have two waters and one carbohydrate. Sometimes this happens after you wake up but better late than never. 

9. You will probably go through at least a couple complete and total agonizing ego deaths or friend circle dissolutions or moments where you think that everything is just over and falling apart. It’ll be fine it’s just the new life comes with the expense of the old one.

10. Get really good at using libgen and the wayback machine. Invaluable.

[cupcakeinat0r]

A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class

In celebration of 1k followers, I give you Pt.5 <3

Enjoy! - Cupcake

Since that day you kissed Miguel on the cheek, the dynamic of y’all’s relationship had totally changed, but not drastically. Miguel was back to acting soft towards you, greeting you upon your somewhat late arrivals, getting you little gifts that reminded him of you, and the subtle exchange of glances in class.

Professor O’Hara was a little handsy during your tutoring sessions before, but now he was even more so, your little peck on his cheek was all the encouragement he needed. For sure, his job was on the line since anyone could’ve walked in and seen the two of you like this, but it was worth the risk. Just as long as you both acted this way in his office, the coast was clear.

The head messages had doubled, footsies was played underneath his desk, and he’d even find any excuse to have his hand on yours while you both worked independently, sitting in peaceful silence with each other. You found it hard to complete the research questions when his thumb kept caressing your knuckles, yet, you never protested. His flirt game was rusty, his advances limited to innocent touching and praise, but nonetheless, it was adorable to you the way he tried.

After that day in his office, tutoring sessions became less about tutoring and more just about being in each other’s company. Instead of spending an hour practicing formulas, you both would mingle while organizing the lecture hall or filing research papers. Anything to help Prof. O’Hara, or rather Miguel, since y’all are officially on a first-name basis.

A new development was when you started staying after to help him grade papers. The two of you would use this time to talk one-on-one more, no one there to interrupt. Miguel was just as handsy during this time, too. As mentioned before, he’d find any excuse to touch you, and in the most innocent ways. For example, if he saw a strand of your hair falling on your face while you were grading a paper, he’d simply tuck it behind your ear for you, or when the necklace he got you was crooked or facing the wrong side, he’d gently fix it for you while you spoke to him about one of your current interests, following along with low hums and ‘mhm’s. It’d make you blush and stutter mid-sentence, inflating his otherwise small ego.

Miguel wasn’t a very vocal person, you knew that, but you can see by his actions that he really really liked you. You continued to show your appreciation by leaving treats on his desk, keeping note that his favorite was black coffee and a quesito from the bakery he showed you on campus. A pastry not too sweet, and goes perfectly with a cup of cafécito.

But you were just too sweet and Miguel completely fell for it. He saw how eager you were to help other people in the class, and seeing how willing you were to stay with him to help him with anything you could. He admired that. It also confused him for so long because how has no one swept you off your feet? You were literally perfect? Certainly, people have tried, there’s no way he would believe that no one has. It’s apparent now that the both of you share feelings that are beyond platonic, it’s just a matter of time before someone makes the next move. Given the circumstances, for now, Miguel is taking things microscopically slow with you. He doesn’t wanna scare you off. The last thing he wants is to ruin his chance with you.

His feelings for you were growing, which slightly terrified him given that you are still, in fact, his student, no matter how grown you were. He couldn’t help it. His dreams about you were turning less lustful and more wholesome. When he sleeps, he would see himself coming home to you, cooking with you, reading books next to each other, or even cleaning with you. Just mundane day-to-day tasks, only they’re with you. Maybe for now, they’ll just stay in his dreams. Maybe.

<3

The lecture had just finished and you sent your new best friend, the transfer, away with a European farewell, kissing both of his cheeks. Without you knowing, Miguel watches on with an unamused smirk, remembering how he mistook your relationship with the transfer as a romantic one.

Before leaving the lecture hall, you strut towards Miguel to give him your now-routinely kiss goodbye (on the cheek, of course…). As you walk, you see that he’s crouched over his computer, tired eyes glossing over the screen. The fatigue of finals season is beginning to show on him, and it was a pitiful sight that made you purse your lips. Although it made you sad, you couldn’t help but let a small puff of air out your nose with how his glasses sat low on his nose. He never bothered to fix them, so you were the one who’d fix them oftentimes, and every time, he’d give you a small, “gracias, mama.”

You set down your bag, the thud of it hitting the floor finally stealing Miguel’s attention away from the blue-lit screen. He looks you up and down over his lenses, the small, fine lines of his face showing his age and you loved ittt.

“Sweetheart, as much as I love it when you stay and help, I’d be happier knowing you’re at home getting the rest you deserve.” He softly speaks, this version of himself that is so different from the one he presents in front of his class and colleagues.

“You worry too much, Miguel.” You plant yourself next to his chair, leaning down to get a better look at what on the computer has him so worked up. “Jesus, Miguel, no wonder you look sick.” You scroll through what seems like an endless list of students who signed up for office hours. With the amount that registered, Miguel would have to work even outside of his office hours.

From Miguel’s seated position, he has first-class access to your sweet perfume and a million-dollar view of your neck and chest, his mind wandering for a moment.

“Are you listening to me? This is ridiculous, there’s no way you’re cramming this amount of students… is there not another professor who could tutor as well?” the small raise of your voice is enough to bring his attention upward, not that that was any better of a view. Now, he was just looking at your lips, and how your lip plump makes them looks deliciously kissable. He imagined how’d they’d look if they were-

“Miguel O’Hara!” He blinks once or twice, gaining consciousness again, “Excuse me, uh, yeah, no, I’m the only one who can. For this class, I mean.” He rubs one of his eyes, letting out a sigh as he looks at the heavily packed schedule displayed on his desktop. “Anyways, it’s my responsibility. This was in the job description, so I gotta do what I gotta do.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, hands on your hips, “Okay, but that doesn’t mean compromising your own health. There are healthy and efficient ways of doing your job, Mig.”

There’s that nickname he loved. He melted every time you used it, the familiarity of y’all’s relationship shining through the most when you did. He especially loved it when you were upset. He thought it was cute.

“Let me tutor some.” This snaps Miguel back to Earth, but this time, he’s in disbelief. “You’d tutor other students?” This was a rhetorical question, of course, he knew you were serious. He knew how big your heart was. He guessed he was just in disbelief because, once again, he was beguiled by the existence of a literal angel sent to Earth. He can’t believe he’s been blessed by your presence and friendship (?). You were so kind, so intelligent, so put-together, extremely gorgeous… you were utterly perfect.

“If splitting the work meant you got some sort of rest around here, then of course I would! Mig…” You grab the nearest chair and pull it to sit next to him, placing a hand on top of his. His hand relaxes under your touch, “You’ll work yourself to death like this.” You send a warmth onto his hand and up his arm you rub circles on his knuckles, the same way he does it to you.

“You’ve done so much for me, Miguel. Let me repay you, please? Please let me do this?” You bat your eyes, Miguel’s kryptonite.

Miguel turns his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeing the genuinity in your eyes. He gives it a small squeeze before saying, “What did I do to deserve you, hm?” it comes out just above a whisper.

“Plenty, Miguel. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met,” you cock your head to the side, your eyes tracing the muscles of his broad shoulders, counting in your head all the possible knots buried deep in there,” Here, sit back, please.” You say sweetly, standing back up to travel to the back of his seat.

“What’re you up to?” His eyebrows raised, but he eased again when he felt your small hands massaging the crooks of his neck. “Sshhhh, just relax, Mig. It’s ok.”

He furrows his brows feeling the scrumptious pain of knots unfurling and tension melting away, your soft hands kneading his back muscles like readied sour dough. You know you hit a good spot when he accidentally lets out small groans. You’re doing so good that it takes every thing in him to hold back any embarrassing moaning. You can see his fits clench around the arms of his chair. His breath shakes from the sudden touch, but it’s not in protest; just surprise. Astonished that the woman he dreamed of every night was currently giving him a message.

You can see his literal jaw unclench, happy to see him so relaxed. “Feel good?” You whisper in a sugary tone, Miguel nodding with his lips parted. He lets out a small noise of approval, urging you to keep going. With his eyes closed, you were able to closely examine all the sharp features that make up his beautiful, sculpted face. He was simply gorgeous. Slowly, his hands relax, signifying that he’s becoming comfortable with this, welcoming your soothing touch.

“S’good, mama… s’good…” he speaks under his breath as you knead out the stubborn knots on the stiff tissue of neck. Once you feel like you’ve ridden all the points of tension there, you slowly work your toward his clavicle. He lets you unbutton the first three buttons of his polo sweater. With your whole hands, you apply pressure there, offering weighted comfort to the area. He takes a deep breath and exhales with an open mouth, as if releasing all the tension and stress.

Then you rub up and down slowly, the sensation of his chest hair tempting you to venture deeper down his thick torso. Due to the immense relaxation, Miguel’s head begins to fall back onto your stomach, so you step closer to give him extra support.

He hums when he feels both of your hands cup his face. You then remove his glasses so you can work on his temples. His eyes are still closed, but you can see his lips slightly curl, which makes you smile. You wonder what he’s thinking about as you give his scalp a good rake.

Miguel is currently thinking about where he should get down on one knee for you. He’s thinking about what color you’d possibly want the cabinets to be in your shared home. He’s thinking about if y’all’s child will be as nerdy as him or as fashionable as you. Either way, he’d be the happiest man in the world. He’s on cloud nine as far as he’s concerned. He couldn’t remember the last time he relaxed like this. This train of thought is stopped by the sensation of your lips on his forehead. His heart stops as well.

Then he feels the soft smack of your lips on his left cheek, then his right, leaving behind a trail of lip gloss prints. Anticipating a potential fourth kiss somewhere specific, he slowly opens his eyes, your face inches from his. His head leans all the way back, resting against your stomach still.

It’s silent between the two of you. You lock eyes, completely drowning in the other's gaze. No words were exchanged, but there didn’t need to be.

Seeing no other action fit for this perfect moment, Miguel raises his hand above him to cup your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You inch down closer, your heart racing. His is, too. His thumb itches to move, brushing along your bottom lip softly.

In what would be considered “Spider-Man” style, you both share a kiss, so sweet, so tender, and so innocent. The perfect first kiss. After a few mind blowing seconds, you’re the first to pull away, but not wanting to stop just yet, Miguel crashes you back into his lips by adding his other hand to your head, extending the moment just a bit longer. You weren’t complaining, though, you’d stay here forever if you could.

Feeling your knees getting weak, you shift all your weight onto Miguel, your hands traveling from the sides of his face back down to his pecs underneath his sweater, his chest in a slow rise and fall rhythm. To deepen the kiss even more, Miguel's hands wrap around the back of your neck. You both come up for air for just a mere second, Miguel breathlessly letting out a weak, “Please.”

knowing what he meant, you smile, going back down again but this time, open-mouthed. Miguel groans into your mouth with the feeling of his tongue on yours, practically treating it like his lollipop. The kiss becomes hungrier with a nibble on your lip by Miguel, pulling on it while you get some needed air. It’s getting sloppy now, and your hands travel lower, meeting the softness of his belly. His breath hitches when he feels them there, half-expecting you to be revolted in any way, but your hands just sit there. In fact, you start messaging there as well, giving love to his whole body. The feeling of the softness of his body in your hands grants a small moan, loving every piece of him. Your hands drag up and down his whole torso with each wet collision of your lips. Your hands would go as low as the pudge sitting above his belt, all the way to up his knife-like jawline, and back down again, and repeat. It’s like you wanted him to know you worshipped his body, and Miguel wanted to show some in return.

Using his hands on the back of your head, he tapped you to pull away so that he could take your hand and guide you around his chair, pulling you to straddle his lap. “C’mere…”

Tongues are going down throats, moans are being heard, and hands are becoming desperate. The fingers tugging his hair, his hands squeezing the globes of your ass, him desperately lifting his hips to make some friction. It was like horny college kids fucking for the first time…. or at least maybe one of y’all felt that way. The other was just that. A horny college student.

There was no stopping either of you, except maybe for the knocking at the lecture hall door.

Both your heads snapped toward the thankfully semi-transparent, iced door. You scramble to get off Miguel’s lap, Miguel wiping your lip gloss off his face. You go to button his sweater and fix his hair as he calls out, “Just a moment.” You give him his glasses when you hear the voice of the student speaking about a tutoring session with Miguel through the door.

Miguel thinks he’ll go to the door, but he feels you grab his hand. “Hey,” you pull him in for one last peck, “I’ll take this one, mkay?” You smile up at him, a very dazed Miguel looking back at you. As far as he’s concerned, he’s floating right now.

“Anyways, it seems like someone,” you look down, motioning to the prominent bulge in his pants, “needs a moment to calm down.” You chuckle, practically gliding to the door as Miguel looks down at his excitement, wide-eyed and making his own way into his private office to… read about DNA Polymerase Replacement or something.

Want more Dadbod!Miguel? Here's my mastlist, bae!

A/n: I just wanted to thank you guys for 1k followers as well as all the appreciation on this lil story of mine<3 y’all so sweet n cewt, and it’s so much fun writing this fic n just writing in general! Ty for letting my creative juices fuel ur delulu <3 I also hope that this hot, wet, fat kiss made up for all the edging I’ve done, if not, sorry <3 Next chapter tho………….. but chu gotta stay tuned, yall hear meeeeee????

<3 Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson  @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @rxckstarss @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow  @hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @ce3stvu @mintssanctuary @migueloharasoulmate @veyveys @theanbitchless @nebulositycloud @jh7ley @gothicteddybearhugs

[liones-s]

concrete study tip #2: talk about your goals

Specifically, talk to your instructors about what you want to do. Grad school, a specific profession, getting a particular grade in the course - verbalize these things to people in your field. Talk about your research interests. They’ll likely have experience and advice and may even be able to point you towards the right classes and programs.

How to apply: book office hours at the beginning of the semester. Ask to talk about how you can use this course to work toward your goal. Come ready to talk about where you see yourself in X amount of time and how it relates to the specific class you’re in.

Of note: this still works if you don’t know what you want to do!! Say that too - expressing that you don’t know what step you want to pursue next can be the best way to find out. Instead of preparing an outline of your goals, prepare a list of topics and experiences you’re excited about and enjoy, then talk to your prof about what programs can help you explore those.

[simpxxstan]

perfect complements (ch. 2)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

chapter word count: 2.4k

warnings: bickering.

a/n: i have never been to a therapist/counsellor, so i apologise if there are factual inaccuracies in how the process of counselling goes. the italicized portion is an excerpt from the past, and that's how it'll be indicated in the rest of the story!

thank you so much for reading! your reblogs, likes and comments make my day!

series masterlist

GIF by coupsnim

The walls of the counsellor’s office are painted blue and green- quite contrary to what you had thought would be clinically white and even more depressing. There’s no sign of Seungcheol though, as you sit in the small waiting space outside the office, reading a magazine off the coffee table, your legs shaking nervously.

The man you’re waiting for storms in through the door, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, and his slightly longer hair all fluffy and messy. “Sorry I’m late,” he says to no one, especially not you since he’s averted his glance from you as soon as he entered, and there’s no one else in the space. “Dr. Lee is waiting for us.” You speak softly, trying to level your tone. He takes a minute to brace himself before looking at you, fixing his hair, fixing his crumpled shirt, and breathing in. 

In the past sixteen hours, you’ve thought about this moment a million times at least. It’s been a long time coming, and you know Seungcheol knows it as well as you. Wonwoo has spoken to the two of you multiple times, and yet- things never seem to improve. 

It’s not like you purposely piss him off, well, most of the time. He is a dickhead, but it’s not like you have a lot of free time just to educate him on being a better human in the world. It’s mostly a slip here and there, and the spark blasts. 

It started on a rainy day, in the middle of August. You really didn’t like the rain, to make it worse you’d got your period that morning. You wanted to go home as soon as possible, but all public transport had suddenly disappeared, leaving you stranded in the monsoon on a busy street where no one cared about you, no matter how desperately you called for a taxi. It was just not your day-

But all that had a hope of reversing when you noticed a familiar smile and a wave through a car window, which was right next to you now. “Seungcheol-ssi?” you asked. “Can I give you a ride, Prof Y/L/N?” You started refusing him, hands moving animatedly, but then he gave you a look- oh- and you couldn’t refuse him anymore. “Please. You’ve been standing here for the past twenty minutes,” he said, as you shuffled into his car, trying to not wet the seats but in vain. “You’ve been watching me?” “Uh-” he was nervous now, “no I was just…” “Hey, I really appreciate your offer. I was really having a difficult time. Thank you so much, Seungcheol-ssi.” Three months into his new job, and you both had developed a good relationship, being of nearly the same age. The three other professors in your department were all above fifty, two even due to retire that year, leaving you two as the youngest of the department, and it was a good partnership. You enjoyed talking about the subjects that you had chosen as the first loves of your lives over a cup of coffee, sometimes you would smile at him for a second too long when he would speak of his pet dog Kkuma, sometimes he would return the smile when you spoke fondly about your favourite students. 

The car ride was also just as smooth as the rest of Choi Seungcheol. As much as he was an eye candy, you had decided you were certainly not interested in him, having noticed how well he got along with every female (and most male) faculty members of the university, and his smiles were just not reserved for you. Within weeks, he had students fawning over him, and soon he was becoming the most popular professor in the university, not just among students but also among your colleagues. While you had no fancies for these titles, it felt a little weird losing the good rapport you had worked hard in building, being the only female professor in the department. Or maybe it was just you being too competitive. 

Anyhow, when Seungcheol played the music of your favourite idol group, you couldn’t complain. The depressive mood from the rains had already mellowed out. You raised your eyebrows at him in query, he replied, “What? I’ve seen their photocard behind your phone.” He smiled again, and you smiled back. So attentive. 

Just then, there was a crazy sound from his car. Alarmed, he instantly got out of the car to check- soon there was smoke coming up from the front of the car. You felt guilty sitting in the dry shade of the rain while he lifted the front hood of the car, drenched in the rain, trying to figure out the issue, so you stepped out. “I’m sorry- I really-” “No, hey, why are you apologising to me?” “I don’t know what’s wrong. I think I’ll have to call a mechanic.” You looked around, it was a shockingly deserted area, maybe the rain had washed away all people into their homes. As evening began to descend, your cramps got worse, not improving as the wetness of the rain began settling into your bones. 

“Should we wait inside the car? I’ve called for the mechanic, but they’ll definitely take some time.”

“Sure. I mean, we don’t have an option, do we?” You chuckled, trying to reduce the tension. “I’m sorry I got you stuck in this.” “Nah, it’s okay.” “You can try looking for a cab-” “Do you see a cab out there, Choi Seungcheol?” you snapped out a bit too harshly, recoiling instantly. He was taken aback too, wincing. “Sorry, I just…” Then he grew quiet, and so did you. 

Seconds became minutes. 

Minutes to hours. 

Precisely, two and a quarter hours, before the mechanic arrived. 

Your water bottle was empty, your lunch long finished, the cramps growing worse in the confined space and the anxiety, and Seungcheol wasn’t a close friend who you could become casual around. So you kept your legs down, your heels on, even if your ankles hurt. You kept your hair tied, even if the hair tie began to hurt your scalp, because your hair was too unruly to let down. You couldn’t even take off your jacket, because your body was too cold to let go of even one piece of clothing. 

This was really not your day.

There was no conversation, mainly because you were afraid of snapping again. He stepped out to help the mechanic, and you closed your eyes tight in the car, trying to hold back the pain. Wordlessly, the mechanic left after the issue was fixed, the rain still pouring relentlessly, and Seungcheol came back into the car. 

Thankfully, this time when he tried to start the car, it roared to life. After travelling slowly for fifteen minutes, Seungcheol spoke up, “It’s almost seven- do you want to get some ramyeon before heading home?” You weren’t even looking at him, but you could sense the expectation in his voice. “My treat, to make up for the-”

“I want to go home, Seungcheol.” Your voice was bitterer than you had thought. Seungcheol extended his hand to your arm, and you flinched. “Can you please drive me to my neighbourhood? I don’t want to stay here a minute more.” He took back his hand in a second, and amped up the speed of the car. In less than twenty minutes you were in the front of your home, the address you had input into the Google Maps of the car dashboard earlier. 

Without a word, you stepped out of the car, into the rain that had fizzled down to a drizzle now. Seungcheol was looking at you, and you had no way to avoid his eyes now. “I’m sorry for making your day so bad. Really, if I could make it-” “Bye, Choi Seungcheol-ssi. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And you had turned your back on the man who had drove you home that evening, the hopeful glint in his eyes burning in your head but other feelings like exhaustion, pain and desperation overwhelming you. 

-

“Has anger always been an issue for you?”

Ouch, that was harsh. You had thought counsellors were soft with their words- but then, you’d never been to one’s office before. Seungcheol seemed calmer than before now, honestly that irked you more. Was he actually okay with sitting here? Being reprimanded for how you couldn’t help but behave around each other, at the age of thirty-three?

“I don’t know… I guess I’ve always had a slightly sharp tongue. Quick to lose my temper.”

Seungcheol sighed next to you. You can feel his eyes poring into your face, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

“And you, Prof. Choi?” 

“I don’t think so. I think Prof. Y/L/N brings out the worst in me.”

Now you’re looking straight at him, and you know he’s facing you while saying the words. “Excuse me?” 

“Prof. Y/L/N-”

“I’ve never faced issues with my temper before, you know. Yes, some may call me an alpha but-”

A laugh escaped from your lips before you could help it. 

“Prof. Y/L/N, please refrain from scoffing here. Remember the common goal.” Dr. Lee reminded you. 

“I can’t help it, Dr. Lee. It’s blatantly obnoxious for Prof. Choi to think of himself as an alpha. Why, the man’s scared of ghosts! As if ghosts even exist.”

“Prof. Y/L/N-”

“Might I inform you, Dr. Lee, than Prof. Y/L/N has a phobia of thunderstorms. She can’t stand seeing lightning, absoltely shivers like-”

“Professors!”

Again the dreadful feeling of being reprimanded. 

“Laughing at each other’s phobias are petty and not acceptable. This is a safe space. We are all respectful of each other’s fears, irrespective of how they appear to us. We have a common goal of resolution, please be mindful.” Your eyes were cast downward, fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lee.”

There was a sharp intake of air from Choi Seungcheol.

“But I don’t think this can ever reach resolution,” you complete, nearly standing up from your chair. Seungcheol openly scoffs at you now, laughing at your surrender. Exactly what he was pushing you for.

“There, there! No need to rush, Professor. How about, we move on to the first activity I’ve planned for you both?”

You pause, sitting back in your chair. 

“Activity?” Seungcheol asks, running fingers through his hair. 

“Yes! It’s part of my toolkit for couples’ therapy-”

“This isn’t couple’s therapy,” you both chime together. It’s getting annoying how often people think of you as a couple.

Dr. Lee only chuckles, as if they had laid the bait out for you to hold on to, and you both had caught on to it like fishes. You gasp, realising this session may be more complicated than you thought. 

“Of course! Now, have either of you done colouring before? Ever heard of art therapy?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, while you nod. “I colour on my phone sometimes- numbered colouring. Stress relieving, it is for me.” Dr. Lee smiles. “Yes! Except, we’ll not be doing numbered colouring.” They pull out a sheet of paper from underneath their desk, and lay it right in front of you both. 

It’s a beautiful picture of a scene from nature- trees, foliage, flowers, even a river through the grass. But in black and white outline, and more spaces marked in between indicating where to fill in colours. 

Then Dr. Lee brings out a pack of colour pencils, and keeps it beside the sheet of paper. 

“Can I trust you both to fill this in?”

Seungcheol’s jaw actually drops. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him more surprised.

“You want us to fill this with colours? Colour pencils?”

“Yes! It’s really quite simple, and really would be great for healing you through all the stress of work during the day.” Dr. Lee’s smile is genial, but you don’t feel it catching on to you. The thought of colouring this- with Seungcheol- does nothing but add up to your stress. 

“Alright.” Seungcheol is doing it again- pushing you to surrender. He even picks up the sheet and colour pencils and stands up, looking at you expectantly. 

But you’re not going to give up so easily. 

It’s a matter of your pride after all. 

“We’ll bring this to you, all complete and pretty, at our next session!” You’re staring into Seungcheol’s soul, seeing the panic flash momentarily before he dons his standard pretty smile, gums threatening to show. 

“Yes, Dr. Lee!” And for a second, you wonder if this was how he used to suck up to his teachers in school, all cute and excited- but, you forget the thought quickly, as Dr. Lee stands up, a very knowing smile in their eyes, waiting to bid you goodbye. As you both shuffle out of the room, you face Seungcheol outside the office. “Our next session is day after tomorrow. What were you thinking when you promised to complete this, like a little good girl, so eager to please?” he snaps, standing inches away from you. 

“Seungcheol, spare me your nonsense. I’ll take it home today and complete the top half, and you can take it home tomorrow and complete the bottom half.”

“Impossible. I have at least two dozens of projects to go through. I’ll not be coming to work tomorrow. No time for this” he points at the sheet in his hand. 

“Then I’ll just come over tomorrow evening, after your project corrections are done. We can complete it together. Makes the process quicker.” You know you’re stepping into extremely risky territory, but hell, even you didn’t want to go home and colour on a lovely day like this. Wine and jazz sounded much better. 

He seems to ponder over the offer for a second. Then he takes out his right hand from his pocket, and holds it out to you. “Deal,” he says, and you almost scoff at his childish behaviour. Then you shake your right hand with his, and take a step back. 

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah, my place, at 8?”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll text you the address-”

“I have it already, Prof. Choi.” you say quietly, before turning your back on him and walking away slowly, ignoring his eyes on your back. 

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

On Death's Doorstep (pt 42/53)

[<<First],,,,[<Prev],[Next>] [ODD Masterlist]

Word count: 2164

Rating: teen

Pairings: Karrot Kings, minor Anxceit, familial Moceit, minor boring heterosexual ocs

Warnings: identity theft, depression, kidnapping, mentioned threats of violence, mentions of drugs

~~~START~~~

Sophie Lafferty was a mousy woman, awkward in the extreme, and was prone to bouts of eccentricity, but despite all that, she had a reputation for being a hard worker. Usually, during this point of the summer, she’d be off on vacation with her family for two weeks, but this year both of her parents were sick, so the vacation had been pushed to August. 

Sophie worked a desk job in the legal department of the MAA, the work could be boring at times, and most of what she did was research assigned to her by the higher ups about some historic building that a supervillain had blown a hole through, or the insurance policy on a billionaire’s skyscraper that had mysteriously been damaged in a fight that happened twelve blocks away, or a similar case to the one they were working that had happened ten years ago on the other side of the country. One day, Sophie thought, she’d be one of those higher ups, maybe even appearing as a counselor in a court case or two. But that wouldn’t be for a long time yet, for now, she would have to content herself with following the paper trail of one Logan Crofter until he mysteriously dropped off the face of the earth six years ago to see if there was any hint of where he’d gone. 

It was the kind of project that could catapult her career if she did find something, but unfortunately for Sophie Lafferty, she was currently on a cruise to the Bahamas with her family — including her parents, who weren’t any kind of sick except, perhaps, seasick — while someone who looked a lot like Sophie, and talked a lot like Sophie told her bosses that her vacation had been postponed while thoroughly bungling their research on Prof. Crofter. 

Usually, Janus’s impersonation act didn’t last long — a couple hours to kidnap a politician, a day to infiltrate a shitty business — but this was a deeper operation than usual. In two weeks, Sophie would be back and the jig would be up, so they would need to get all the information on where Virgil was being kept, what kind of security was in place, and when the best time to act would be and stage a rescue before the MAA knew there’d been a security breach. No pressure. 

“Morning, Soph!” A security guard said, stopping next to Sophie’s desk for a moment. Sophie and Lee were very friendly, a fact that was both an asset and a hindrance to Janus — on the one hand, Lee had a greater chance of noticing something was off with Sophie, but on the other hand, Janus might have use for a security guard later, depending on how things shook out. 

“Hi Lee.” The voice modulator itched against Janus’s neck, but they resisted the urge to fiddle with it. 

“Sorry to hear about your vacation.” 

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t want to go without my parents anyway. Besides, we’ll go in August. What about you, any big summer plans?” Janus couldn’t force themself to smile even if they tried, but that hardly mattered to the illusion — Sophie’s lips curled upwards in the expression of a person who honestly cared what this man did with his life. 

“Nah, I’m more of a winter sports guy,” Lee grinned as though that were in any way impressive. 

“Oh.” It was, based on Janus’s observations, usually around this point in a conversation that Sophie ran out of things to say, so they said nothing. 

Lee stood there for a moment, marinating in the awkward silence before clearing his throat. “Well, I should be going now.” 

“Yeah.” Please leave. 

“Bye Soph.” 

“Yeah.” 

Janus resisted the urge to gag as Lee walked away, there were other people in the office who might hear if they did, even if their actual face was hidden. 

Turning back to their work, Janus found an article about a boat that sank in the Gulf of Mexico two weeks after Logan dropped off the radar, everyone on board had drowned. They added it to the research on Prof. Crofter they were assembling, they were amusing themself by reimagining Logan as more of the Walter White type, maybe he’d drowned while smuggling drugs — Logan would hate this interpretation (for many reasons, not the least of which being how close to the truth it was) but it was exactly the kind of thing that would fuzz the radar while still looking like Janus was actually working. 

A small usb drive sat innocently plugged into the computer, scanning away for the kind of security and monitoring there was on Sophie’s desktop before Janus started with their actual work. 

Their day was long and boring. They stole Jared’s lunch just to amuse themself — he almost had a full-blown temper-tantrum when he opened the fridge to find his tupperware full of bland chicken missing. Lilie from accounting spent almost an hour monologuing at them about… something, honestly Janus hadn’t been paying attention. And at the end of the day, everyone gathered in the break room to celebrate Jason’s birthday — it took everything they had not to burst out laughing when they realized. 

Finally, as they were gathering their stuff to leave for the day, their hacker drive finished its work. They would need to wait until they got home to see what kind of security they were working with, but at least that meant they could get started first thing tomorrow — plus, they had already outlined most of the details in their Crofter-equals-drug-smuggler “theory”, so they should be good for the next week or so as far as Sophie’s work went. 

They drove Sophie’s car back to Sophie’s building where they parked in Sophie’s parking spot and walked up to Sophie's apartment. Her lights had been set on a timer to make it look like she was spending the night there, but as soon as Janus entered, they left again, this time hiding themself from sight completely. They walked down the block to where their own car was parked, and then proceeded to drive back to their actual home. 

What they should do was go straight upstairs to Logan so they could go over the MAA system’s security, but instead what they did was detour to what was formerly Roman’s apartment before they moving in with his sister and was now, after a couple reconfigurations of the housing arrangements, the — hopefully temporary — apartment of Thomas and Nico Sanders-Flores and their grandson Patton. 

Janus knocked politely, and after a moment, Nico answered the door. It was always awkward to spend time with Thomas and Nico — seeing how Janus had kidnapped them and all — but they were Virgil’s parents, and Patton’s grandparents, and Janus would just have to work through the awkwardness. 

“Oh, hi Janus,” Nico gave them a strained smile, which Janus returned in kind. 

Before they could say their own polite greeting, however, the smoke alarm began to sound. 

“Thomas Sanders!” Nico turned and yelled into the apartment. He walked away from the door, leaving it open, so Janus took that as an invitation. “I turned my back on you for less than a second! How did you burn something already?” 

Janus followed Nico to the kitchen where they found Thomas desperately fanning an inflamed pan in a futile attempt at putting it out. 

“I don’t know!” Thomas cried as Nico got the fire extinguisher out from under the sink and put out the fire. 

“I can see where Virgil got his kitchen skills from,” Janus commented dryly. To Janus’s surprise, Thomas actually laughed at that. 

Nico shook his head in exasperation. “I’ve been trying so hard to teach either of them how to make anything. It might just be impossible.” 

“It’s not so bad,” Janus pointed out. “Virgil’s been getting the hang of it.” 

“Really?” Nico asked, looking excited for all of one second before it was replaced with a look of intense sadness. “I guess… I guess it’s been a while since we’ve seen him.” 

Janus cursed themself internally; their score was currently Janus: 1, awkwardness: 1. 

“Uh, where’s Patton?” They asked, knowing that at least Patton didn’t mind when they were awkward. 

Thomas frowned and Nico turned away from them entirely. 

“He’s in the living room,” Thomas explained. “Today hasn’t been a good day.” 

“Oh.” Janus: 1, awkwardness: 2. “I’ll, um…” Janus pointed towards the living room, then walked away. 

Awkwardness: 3. 

Patton was curled in a ball on the floor in front of the couch, The Princess and the Frog was playing on the TV, but Patton didn’t seem to notice. 

“Hey, Pat,” Janus said softly, taking a seat next to the kid and attempting to put their hand on his back. Their hand sank through him as they realized what Thomas meant by it not being a good day. “How are you feeling today?” 

The question wasn’t necessary, even if the intangibility didn’t give him away, Patton projected when he had strong emotions, and the sadness rolling off him reminded Janus of themself at their mama’s funeral. 

Patton didn’t answer, or even look at them, so Janus contented themself with quietly sitting beside him. 

After several minutes and a song about what the main characters would do once they were human, Patton spoke up, quietly. “Mommy, will you tell me a story?” 

Janus startled, but any thought of correcting the boy went out the window when they found Patton staring at them with big, watery eyes. 

“Of course, dear,” Janus said instead, tamping down any trace of panic. “How about the story of when I met your daddy?” 

Patton nodded eagerly, so Janus launched into the story. 

“It was probably about six or seven years ago — before you were born — and I was a law student. Frankie hadn’t joined the business yet, but he had been selling black market gadgets for a few years and had already decided to take me under his wing, so to speak — he likes to think he was my mentor because he was a criminal first, but I was a supervillain first, so it’s really six of one, half dozen of the other. 

“Now, in one of my classes we had recently discussed a situation that had been in the news about the chief of police. I felt that the chief was getting away with some nasty stuff with no repercussions, so I decided to… scare him a little bit — it’s not like I was really going to drop him off that building.” It suddenly occurred to Janus that this might not be the best story for a five-year-old, but Patton looked enraptured, so they continued. 

“I had just gotten him to make a blubbery confession for my camera when we were interrupted. Your dad was dressed like a grade A dork, horns greener than you can believe–” 

“Daddy doesn’t have horns,” Patton frowned, leaning his whole weight into Janus’s arm. 

“It’s an expression, kiddo, what I mean was, he was new to the business and it was obvious. Now, he ordered me to ‘let that poor man go!’ and I was tempted to follow his order to the letter, but turning the chief into a martyr wasn’t on my agenda at that time, so I brought him back on the roof and let him flop like a fish. 

“‘Poor?’ I said. ‘No, not yet he’s not.’ Your dad didn’t like that. He was cute, all angry and just, I just couldn’t stop myself from flirting. Most heroes, once someone as fruity as me starts flirting with them, go from cute-angry to bigot-angry pretty quickly, but Virgil just got more flustered. 

“I may have gotten a little too in to flirting with him, and he nearly managed to catch me when he make some bright starburst in front of my eyes, causing me to see spots, but I’d had years of experience to fall back on, and I knew when it was time to cut and run. The chief wasn’t in any position to catch me — he was still experiencing adverse effects to altitude — so I made a mental illusion of myself in your dad’s mind and had it fly away, mostly to test whether or not your dad could fly.” 

“He can’t,” Patton said. 

“No,” Janus agreed. “He can’t, so he stooped down to help the chief while I waltzed away at my leisure — that trick never worked on him again, by the way.” 

“Hey guys,” Thomas interrupted gently. “Dinner’s ready.” 

“Okay,” Patton stood, sadness no longer leaking from his pores. “Thanks, mommy.” 

He wrapped his little arms around his neck before running off to collide with his grandpa’s legs. 

“Pop pop?” Patton asked as Thomas lifted him into his arms. “Can we have cookies after dinner?” 

“Sure kiddo,” Thomas smiled. “Whatever you want.” 

Thomas smiled at Janus before turning to carry Patton to the table, and Janus felt a little bit of tension leak from them. Janus: 2, awkwardness: 3. 

~~~END~~~

Y’know that awkwardness when you’re meeting your significant other’s parents after you kidnapped them because your significant other has been kidnapped, and also your significant other’s child has spontaneously begun referring to you as their parent?

ODD taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @arsonic-knight @misunderstood-shadowling @lost-in-thought-20 @remy-the-lemon-berry @jinxcrafter @apinkline2715 @gothfoxx @donutsarepartybagels @xoaningout @awful-at-naming-things @lunatatic

[aandvarchaeology]

How-To Presentation

Imagine this: It's the first year of university. You, a bright-eyed and bushy tailed freshman, riding on the high of having declared your major and successfully defending it in the face of well-meaning relatives ("Oh, I did Archaeology for a few semesters when I was at uni, before I came to my senses. Are you sure you don't want to be a business major? Or maybe pre-law, you were always so good at arguing - ") have just sat down in your very first seminar. The professor walks in, spends an hour going over the syllabus, and then announces that to pass the class, everyone will have to hold a 30 min presentation on a pre-determined topic. You can feel your stomach sinking somewhere below your knees. A cold chill grips you. You hate public speaking and the longest you've ever had to talk in front of the class in high school was 10 minutes. What do you do now??!

Well, you click on the read more.

Step 1: Don't panic. Let's get an overview of your topic and make a plan.

WHEN TO DO THIS: Same week as you got your presentation topic

First things first, as soon as you get your presentation topic and your deadline, even if that deadline is 8 weeks from now, IMMEDIATELY hop on your computer and get yourself some literature. There are some topics that are so well-researched and well-published you can walk into any library and immediately find 12 sources, and then there are topics that you have to special order books that went out of print in 1945 for. You do not know what kind of topic your topic is until you go to the library, and special ordering books takes time, sometimes A LOT of time. FINDING these books also takes a lot of time. So always make sure you HAVE the time to do this! A good starting point to have ist 2-5 books (depending on availability) with your presentation topic directly in the title.

If you have absolutely no idea whatsoever what your topic even IS, go to Wikipedia. DO NOT use Wikipedia as a source. You're going to read the article, find out what your topic is about, and then go to the list of sources at the bottom and get THOSE from the library. If you can't find anything other than those, or if your topic doesn't HAVE a Wikipedia article, go see your professor during their office hours. Do this NOW, not two weeks before the presentation. If your professor is sick, write them an e-mail NOW and go ask your TA. You need to make sure they can see you did your best to find stuff early on - if something goes wrong, profs are a lot more likely to give you extra credit or be extra nice with your grade if you have a paper trail proving you tried to resolve any issues you had early on. They won't be able to help you anymore two days before the presentation.

As soon as you have your 2-5 books, you sit down and just flip through them. Skim whatever catches your eye, look at pictures and graphs, read the table of contents. This is going to give you an idea on how much you actually have to stress about your research. Are all your books really old and super thin? Bad sign. Did you immediately find tons of books published in the last 10 years and those bitches THICC? You can probably relax a little. Then, as you're skimming, you're going to form a very rough idea what your topic is about. Things to look out for are:

How complex is your topic? The broader and less specific, the more research you're likely to have to do (example: If your topic is "The late middle ages", good luck. If your topic is "Burg Eltz during the late middle ages" you're going to have it a lot easier.)

What time period are you in? Always know your backround!

What is the state of research? Look out for things that should be there but aren't!

Is there some kind of controversy going on? Do some sources contradict each other?

Now you know a little bit about your topic, and can plan for the following things:

How many more sources are you going to need?

How long until you have those sources in your actual hands or on your actual computer?

How much research are you going to have to put into this?

Step 2: Initial research and structure

WHEN TO DO THIS: Within the week you got your hands on your sources.

If you've completed Step 1, your should have an initial list of sources. Pick the most general of those babies, turn to a relevant chapter, and get excerpting.

Q: How do I find the most general source?

A: The most general source is the one that goes into least detail while giving the broadest range of information. A good place to start are dictionary entries (make sure you're using a dictionary relevant to you subject, not the Encyclopedia Britannica...) or books with something like "introduction to..." or "overview of..." in the title. When in doubt, look at the table of contents!

If you're presenting to something very Basic™ at the beginning of your university career, your professor or TA will most likely have provided you with a list of "basic literature" for your course or subject. Look to these. If your topic is more complex, a good way to determine if a source is what you're looking for is reading the introduction chapter of your book and seeing if you recognise things you need.

Q: How do I indentify a relevant chapter?

A: Use your logic. If your presentation topic is late medieval castles, and your book covers castles of all time periods, you don't need the chapters talking about early- and high medieval castles, or post-medieval fortresses. DO NOT read the whole book. Skip everything you don't need. If you're reading a relevant chapter and the author starts talking about things you don't need to know, flip ahead until they do.

Q: What is excerpting?

A: This.

Image description in alt text.

You're going to write down the title of your source and you're immediately going to write that down in the citation style it has to be in for your presentation. Highlight it to make it easier to find later. Then you're going to write down all relevant information and the page number you found it on, and everything you're too lazy to summarize in your own words you're going to copy down directly in quotation marks. The quotation marks are important - you need to know when to say you're quoting someone directly in your presentation. I know this looks like a fuck ton of work, and it is. But it's going to do these things for you that make it absolutely worth it:

You're going to remember A LOT more of the information

You're going to be able to bring the book back to the library on time (pro tip: Also immediately scan relevant pictures)

You're going to be able to just copy-paste the already correctly cited title into your list of sources

When you're writing your presentation notes you're not going to have to flip through the whole book in search of the one bit of information you vaguely remember. You can just print out your document, highlight what you need, and have it there in one look.

In my experience, doing excerpts saves you about three to five days of work, spares you an unholy amount of frustration, and makes it A LOT easier to not accidentally plagiarize because you wrote down something and forgot it was a word-for-word quote.

As soon as you worked through your general source(s), you can structure your presentation. For Archaeology presentations, there is a general formula you can usually follow that looks roughly like this:

1. Introduction

2. Main Part: Your Topic Goes Here

2.1 History of research for your topic

2.2 General information: What time is your topic in, what are important monuments or finds, what is your topic exactly

2.3 All the information you have if your topic is very narrow (a certain type of pot, a single monument, whatever) or one or more examples if your topic is very broad (a prehistoric culture, a type of wide-spread monument, a time period)

3. Conclusion. This is the place to either summarize, bring in your own opinion, or go into detail about a controversy surrounding your topic

Find out how you want to structure your presentation (maybe this isn't the way to do it! Adjust to your topic!) and what examples you want to show. If this part is giving you trouble, e-mail your TA or your professor or visit them during office hourse. Again, do this IN TIME. The earlier, the better, AT LEAST two weeks before your presentation, better WAY before that.

If you find you need to special order sources from your library, now is the time to do that. If you're smart, you might want to make a list of all sources you can find that could be relevant to your topic while you're at it.

Step 3: The whole body of research

WHEN TO DO THIS: Depends on the length of your presentation and the complexity of your research. A minimum of 2 weeks before you have to present for a 25-30 min presentation. The busier your schedule, the more sources you have, and the longer your presentation should be, the earlier.

So, now that you know how you're going to structure your presentation, you know what you need to research and what to leave out. Go through your initial list of sources and determine if they are still relevant, now that you know what you're looking for. Identify what informations that you want to put in your presentation are missing from your sources, and find sources that are about them. If you were really smart you already did this after you structured your presentation and now just have to pick books out of a list.

As soon as you have your sources, work through them by excerpting just like you did with your overview literature. Do this from most to least relevant source, in case you misjudged your speed and have to leave out a source. Make sure to always note your page number and immediately copy out relevant graphics!

Step 4: Your presentation slides

WHEN TO DO THIS: The week before your presentation. If you don't want to spend a whole day on this start around 5-4 days before your deadline at the latest and do a few slides at a time.

If your prof gave you a guide for PowerPoint presentations - find that. Use that. Copy the structure of your presentation that you made in Step 2, add your pictures that you already copied out into your excerpting document, and cite them according to the style your professor wants them to be in. If you already did this in your excerpting document like I told you to, this should just be a matter of copy and paste. Don't forget to add your list of sources at the end!

This is also the step where we start thinking about time. A good rule of thumb is that you should have one slide in your presentation for every two minutes of talking. I like to add a few more, because I also always have a title slide, a structure slide, and a list of sources slide, and I don't spend 2 minutes on "Hello everybody, my topic is [x]!".

As soon as you have your slides in about the number you think you need, talk through your presentation OUT LOUD and time yourself. Just say what you remember. If you're more than 5 minutes under target, you need one more slide for every two minutes you're under. If you're more than 2-3 minutes over target, consider what information is actually important to your topic, and try again, leaving everything out everything not relevant, until you land within 2-3 minutes of your target time.

Step 5: Presentation notes and practicing

WHEN TO DO THIS: The day before your presentation at the latest, better 2-3 days before. Your brain is better at memorizing things if you're not stressed out of your mind!

Now that you're reasonably sure you're on your target, time wise, it's time to make your presentation notes. This is a matter of personal style, and you've got to figure out what works best for you. For me, I need a lot of visual cues, so I usually print out my presentations (or sketch the slides if my printer is acting up again) and add the information next to the slide it's on. I also like to add cues like "show structure x" in a different colour to remind myself to engage with my audience, like so:

Image description in alt text of first image.

But maybe this doesn't work for you! Maybe you like to write out your whole presentation word-for-word. Maybe you like note cards. Maybe you like to use the presentation mode on PowerPoint to add your notes directly into the document. It doesn't matter what you do, as long as it makes you feel safe presenting and you can reliably remember all your information.

Whatever method you use, make sure to write down all your information. In Step 4 we talked through what we remembered from our research. Now is the time to grab our excerpt documents and make sure all our information is factually correct and that you didn't leave out anything. This will usually add around 5 minutes to your speaking time.

When you have your presentation notes, you're gonna practice your presentation a few times. This is, again, a matter of personal style. Some people just need to read through it once, and they've got it down pat. If you're inexperienced in giving presentations, I recommend talking through your whole PowerPoint using your notes at least one or two times. If you want, you can use a mirror to also practice gestures, or memorize the whole text. No matter what you do, the goal is to automate a little bit. Your body remembers things it's practiced. If you talk through your presentation a few times, it'll be much easier to manage presentation anxiety, because you likely won't have a blackout in front of the class - you'll just go into autopilot and say exactly what you practiced.

Another important aspect of this step is, again, time. This is the time to really fine tune your landing. If you know you tend to talk a lot faster in front of an audience, practice so that you're 2-5 min over your target time. If you know you tend to talk a lot slower, pick a point about halfway through your presentation and memorize what minute you're supposed to be at when you reach it. Look at the clock occasionally during your presentation. If you reach your marker and it's later than its supposed to be, speed up. You can also practice talking faster.

And now all there is to do is present! Good luck - not that you need it, with your excellent preparation!

[ghooostbaby]

maybe it's because i had to get a new computer for school in the last few months (and also being back in University post-pandemic when they figured out they can offload a lot of costly labour to provide university services by offloading the responsibilities to the students by making things "virtual/online/digital")

but it feels like a very steep curve of acceleration in just how mediated by online/digital/computer accounts and processes my life is ... everything i need to do or need to acquire I have to find some online platform that I need an account for and then have to go through all these extra identity verification methods to get into and then invariably some part of that process goes wrong, or i DO get into them and then something I'm trying to use them for and there's no accessible way to find support from a fellow human. just the coldly serene text of the FAQ pages spinning me in circles where the thing I need that should be so attainable I get error after error that I can't contact anyone to help me resolve... it's kind of grim and terrifying what the future is going to become with such an accelerated push into more and more computer automated technology.

i truly do feel like a ghost trapped in a machine ... it feels totally alienating. like I'm just floating in this vacuum of metal and 2020s website design unable to enter anywhere, just doing 2 step verifications and creating and entering account information and account synchronizations that go nowhere and i can never move beyond this place...

even my fucking university exams. all of them this semester are "remotely proctored", for courses required for the degree we have to provide our own space to do an exam (when there are reports every night on the news of the complete crisis of housing in this country) on our own computer, download a chrome plug-in that seems to be spyware that will monitor you through your webcam and microphone and record your screen, and if AI notices any flag behaviours notify your prof who will watch your video to see if you were cheating... the amount of logistical work I had to do to get set up for this exam, when I have enough to do with studying for the exam, it makes me so angry how much of University services are being eroded away and the work is being pushed off on students to do for free, actually we're PAYING THEM to do this. I even have a disability and asked the disability office for accommodations for the exam, because when I was at a University before I had always been told part of my accommodations were to do the exam in a separate space to help with distractions and anxiety... so if that's the case for an exam where the University handles all the logistical considerations, I would think it certainly should be where I have to do the exam in my home where I have no control over the noise around my apartment or find some public place to do it, and all the work I need to do setting up my computer for this ... and the disability services basically said "nice try" and gave me some canned bureaucratic "please fuck off" response. the last exam I did I booked a study room at the library and took out one of the laptops the library loans and the webcam was not working and I missed the first 35 minutes of the hour time limit trying to figure it out. I contacted my professor and the exam support (thankfully at least this is ONE case one of these online platforms allows access to a human support person) and they started the hour from the time I got into the exam, but it was so stressful. the next day my professor emailed me to get the details because they wanted to make a complaint about the library for it and I'm like ... these librarians are the ONLY things keeping me from totally losing my mind and just being a human presence talking to me and helping me out in the faceless void digitally automated hellscape...

i had kind of been safe for a while with my ancient macbook that just couldn't access certain websites and apps, that was slowly having more and more apps and websites just refuse to support my OS anymore ... now that i can access them I have to say this is much worse.

[heyftinally]

More:

If you had an IEP or 504 in K-12 school, you probably qualify for accommodations in college. Find your school's disability services department ASAP once you get on campus (ideally before classes start) and find out what you need to do to get accommodations. Find out what you need to do, what your profs need to do, and what you need to do in following semesters/years (some make you resubmit stuff every semester/year, other's don't. Check *before* it screws you over).

Unless you have accommodations for attendance, play it safe and be as on time as possible to every class for the first week or two. Some professors are chill if you're a little late or don't care much for attendance, others will be demons from hell that will mark you absent for being five minutes late. Make sure you know who is who *before* you decide to cut class.

READ. THE. SYLLABUS. PLEASE. I promise, it's important. Some are shittier than others, but make sure you pull out whatever info you can. Like when the midterm is due - put that in your calendar NOW so you don't forget later.

Walk the campus before the first day of classes and find your classrooms, if you can. Find what path you want to use to get from one class to another, especially if they're back to back, and practice it. Time how long to takes you to walk between classes if you need to worry about being on time.

If you have a roommate, do your best to be pleasant with them, and PLEASE be considerate of them, and expect the same in return. It's not out of line to say "Hey, is there any chance you could turn down your Netflix while I finish this essay?" or " if you bring food in the room, can you please sweep after? We're starting to get bugs". If they aren't being a considerate roommate, talk to your RA, student affairs, or the housing center about getting some moderation.

BRING. WATER. Seriously, dehydration will get you out of nowhere, and if you have an 80° classroom you'll be glad you have it.

Check your schedule and make a note of when you'll be able to eat. If you have class before the dining hall opens or after it closes, you'll be pretty unhappy. Compare your schedule with the dining hall hours, and if there's a conflict make a plan for how you're going to deal with that.

WATCH YOUR MEAL PLAN. It's *SO* easy to over spend early in the semester, and by the last few weeks you're starving. Depending on how your school works will change exactly how you approach it, but as a base level you want to divide your total amount or meal plan by the number of days in the semester, and then divide that number by three. That's how much you can spend per meal (roughly).

When you're planning your schedule, plan time for school (and homework), fun activities, time with friends, and time to decompress. Sometimes those things can overlap - a bunch of friends doing homework is fantastic if that works for you, so long as everyone can respect that people are trying to get work done. But if you can, plan one day a week that's just for you to relax.

It's okay to use Google or ask for help if you can't figure out the laundry machines. Just make sure you stay on top of your laundry.

If you're having trouble in a class or with an assignment, talk to your professor. Your chances of getting an extension go up by about 98% if it's more than three hours before the assignment is due (and your odds get better the earlier it is). Go to office hours. Ask to meet to have them read your rough draft. Tell them you're struggling and need support. Most of the time, they're willing to help as long as you don't make it last minute.

Learn how to write a professional email. It might sound dumb, but seriously, professors are WAY more likely to respond the way you want if you ask politely in a professional manner. Doesn't have to be big, just a simple "dear professor X, as I am working on my American History essay, I am not anticipating having my best work ready to submit to you in class tomorrow. Is there any possibility you would be willing to offer an extension, please? All the best, Name"

As an extension of the above, make all of your email subject lines "course code - assignment". For example, ENG 114 - Shakespeare Compare and Contrast". Every professor will appreciate it, and it will earn you points for making their life easier.

Actual good first-time college student advice:

Wear jeans/pants that “breathe” and bring a sweater, even if it’s scorching hot out, until you know which building blasts the AC to 60 degrees F and which feels like a sauna

Backpacks with thick straps are your friend!  Messenger bags are cool and all but if you’re commuting with a lot of stuff, symmetrically styled backpacks are better for your back

You are your own person and you can walk out whenever you need to or want to, so long as you’re not disrupting the class.  Meaning you can go to the bathroom without permission, take a breather if you’re anxious, answer an important phone call, etc.

If you don’t like the class on the first day, if you can- DROP THAT CLASS AND TAKE ANOTHER ONE!  It’ll only get worse from there!

If you can, take a class outside your major; it’s a good break from your expected studies.

You are in charge of your schedule.  Your adviser and guidance counselor is there to ‘advise and guide’ but if you don’t like certain classes and you can substitute for others, that’s your choice.

Consequently, if you are changing anything drastic in your plan, talk with your adviser and instructors.

Pay attention to your credit hours and grades.  Never leave this to the last week of school, you will be sorry and stressed beyond belief!

Unless it’s a lab book or otherwise specified, go to the class for a week or so before buying an expensive textbook.  Some classes, while having it on their required list, do not actually use the textbook a whole lot and you might find some of it scanned online.  Rent if you can or buy used online (schools actually don’t give discounts).  Use your best judgement on what you think you need.

Tell the people who go up to you selling or advertising things you are not interested in that you are in a rush to class and don’t have time to listen to them.  It’s less rude and they’ll leave you alone.

The smaller the class, the better it is to have some sort of acquaintanceship with a couple classmates.  They might save your ass if you are absent one day or need to study.  And talking with them makes the time go by faster without it being so insufferable.

You don’t need to join a club or sport, but internships are cool and useful!

If you can afford it, take a day off once or twice each semester if you’re too exhausted.  Just be aware of what you missed and if it was worth missing!

Your health is the most important, this goes for mental health too!!  Note: College-age/upper teens is when mental disorders like depression and anxiety are most commonly diagnosed.  Most schools have therapy services, especially during exam time.  Look into it if you need to!

Communicate with your professor if you are having trouble with something.  Anything.

Eat and stay hydrated.  Bring a water bottle and snack to class.

All-nighters will happen but never go over 36 hours without sleep.

It’s going to be hard and there will be times you might think about giving up.  This WILL happen.  You just have to make sure what you’re doing isn’t making you absolutely miserable and/or there is something rewarding and positive to look forward to at the end!

[lavenderchqn]

𝐶𝛨𝛢𝑃𝑇𝛦𝑅 𝟎𝟎𝟑 — INEXPLICITUS (1,4K WORDS) 𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆 — lyney x f!reader smau

𝑆𝑌𝑁𝑂𝑃𝑆𝐼𝑆 —

Second year of university should've been everything you thought of it - more studying with human interaction sprinkled throught... What it definitely wasn't supposed to be was an investigation saga where one of your friends goes missing out of nowhere

𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆 — 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 — 𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇 𝐸𝑃𝐼𝑆𝑂𝐷𝐸

“Stop dozing off.” [Y/N] poked Charlotte, almost asleep at the lecture before them. It was more of the same as everything you could’ve expected from a subject named “Practical Project” and yet, it was astounding how a singular person could talk about the exact same things since the start of the semester.

The pink-haired girl shooed the elbow, returning to a more comfortable position. “It’s fine. We have the project basically done.” She was her hours of sleep lost to taking pictures right at sunrise back. 

The lecture continued in silence, accompanied by rain against the windows. Well, there were some whispers, as well as an occasional message notification.

To be frank, [Y/N] was almost joining her roommate in this morning's nap… If only she wasn’t alerted to full attention once the phone in her pocket vibrated with a new notification. 

Well, what she did not make Lynette aware of… was Charlotte not knowing yet, that she would be joining them for this campus trip. 

“You’re free later today, right?” The girl whispered, once again poking her friend. “I’m gonna go with Lyn to the main square to knock down some chores.” 

“Mmm… I should be…” She turned her head a little, snuggling more into the comfort of her sweater. “What does she need to get done?”  “Pick up a parcel. That’s all she told me.” 

Finally, the lecture has come to an end. Some people started to head out for their other activities, while others stayed back to talk further with the professor. 

“Is… there anything that can be done, prof?” A hushed male voice asked, clearly nervous. “I haven’t been able to contact Angelique all spring break.” [Y/N] and Charlotte were barely able to hear it. This didn’t stop them from listening in, just in case it was something serious.

 “Have you asked the Administrative Office?” A deeper voice replied. 

“Of course!” The male got more annoyed at the situation he was placed in. “I’ve asked the office, I reached out to her roommates and friends. It’s like she’s disappeared from the face of the earth.”

 The professor looked clearly worried — after all, it wasn’t every day that a student would suddenly vanish from existence. 

“Don’t worry about submitting on time. I will be contacting the campus authorities to hopefully get in touch with Ms. Angelique” With that, the agitated student left allowing the girls to have him review their project progress. 

“I think that’s good to go, you two.” The professor looked at them.

“If I wanted to nitpick at something that stands out — you seem to use the word 'like' a lot. While it’s not a mistake, it makes for the read to be less engaging.” 

“Alright, thank you for your input.” [Y/N] said, followed by Charlotte also acknowledging the correction. “Goodbye, hope you have a lovely day, Professor.” 

“Same to you too, girls.” 

After leaving the lecture hall, the rain was still pattering gently against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop for their walk to the main square. Charlotte stretched, shaking off the remnants of her drowsiness. “Can’t believe how boring that lecture was,” She mumbled, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

“Tell me about it,” [Y/N] replied with a yawn, checking her phone for time. “I’m glad it’s over. Lynette should be done with her lecture soon.” 

The two girls made their way through the damp campus, the sky a gloomy gray color. By the time they reached the lecture hall where Lynette was supposed to be, some students were already leaving. 

“Thanks for coming, you two.” The girl appeared, seemingly out of nowhere scaring Charlotte to the core. 

“Holy shit, can you not???” She placed her hand on her chest, trying to calm down while the other two girls snickered. “Don’t laugh at me!” 

“Sorry, not sorry.” [Y/N] shrugged, having already gotten used to Lynette’s antics. “Are you ready to go?” 

Lynette shook her head. “I need to get my umbrella from the locker. Didn’t want to sit with it being all soaked… That would be such a nuisance.” 

With her comment, the group proceeded to head towards the basement of the campus — the place filled to the brim with lockers dedicated to university students. 

“I hope it’s gotten dry…” Lynette sighed, inputting the code. “What’s that?” 

Aside from the luckily dried umbrella, there lay a letter — something that none of the girls expected.

 “A secret admirer?” Charlotte peeked over her shoulder, noticing decorations all over the envelope. From what they managed to gather, it was an invitation of sorts.

Opening the mysterious envelope gave them a partial answer.

 “You’re being invited to the Fontinalia Crew?” [Y/N] stated a fact, albeit with a questionable tone. “Why would anyone be doing that through a letter, though?”

 “That’s what I’m thinking… At least have the decency to ask in person, you know?” Charlotte chimed in. 

Lynette stared at it in silence. This could be a potential ticket towards her passing that stupid subject with full marks. On the other hand, it would leave her brother stranded on his own… which she didn’t want to do. Not to mention having to deal with all the other people. 

“Honestly, you should probably ask Furina if she also got invited to the group this way…” [Y/N] sighed.

“I don’t know. It reads as unnatural to me.”

 The other girls hummed in agreement. 

As they walked out of the basement, Lynette kept turning the letter over in her hands, deep in thought. The Fontinalia Crew was a prestigious group known for their marvellous productions and high standards of acting. Joining them would be an enormous boost to anyone’s acting career, but the mysterious invitation was unsettling.

“I don’t know what to think about this.” Lynette finally said, stuffing the letter into her bag. “Besides, I don’t think I’m a good fit for it… Not to mention the way they invited me.”

 “Could be a part of their whole ‘prestigious’ shtick,” Charlotte suggested. “You know, to keep up the exclusive vibes of the troupe.”

 “Regardless of your decision,” [Y/N] added, “I don’t think it would hurt to gather more information beforehand. With Furina’s insight, you’d make a better decision than without it.”

 Lynette nodded. “I’ll make sure to ask her later. For now, let’s go get that parcel.” 

The trio made their way to the main square, enjoying the fresh air now that the rain had stopped. The sky was still overcast, but the break in the weather was a welcome relief. When they reached the post office, Lynette handed over her ID and the parcel slip, and soon she was handed a small, neatly wrapped package with multiple “fragile” stickers slapped all over.

“Finally, it came” Lynette said, a hint of excitement in her voice. “I’ve been waiting since before the break.” 

“Ooh, what is it, what is it?” Charlotte’s curiosity has clearly been piqued. 

Lynette carefully unwrapped the parcel, delicately opening it to showcase a gorgeous set of tableware. “It’s from Father. I’ve mentioned it the last time me and Lyney showed up for a visit.” 

“Holy, that’s so beautiful.” [Y/N]’s eyes widened in admiration. “Must’ve cost an arm and a leg.” 

“We both share the enjoyment of owning pretty tableware,” Lynette said, with a tiny smile. “He mentioned, it would be a nice gift for me to have something elegant to use whenever I have guests over”. 

After carefully rewrapping Lynette’s parcel to ensure it wouldn’t break on the way home and picking up [Y/N]’s newest magazine issue, the girls were ready to head back. Unfortunately for them, the weather turned into a rainy mess once more, dashing their plans to check on the campus cats.

“Guess we’ll have to visit the cats another time,” Charlotte said, pulling up her hood.

“Yeah, this rain is relentless,” [Y/N] agreed, tucking the magazine securely into her bag.

The three girls made their way through the rain-soaked campus, huddling under their umbrellas. The streets glistened with puddles, and the sound of raindrops created a rhythmic background as they walked.

Soon enough, they stumbled to the front of Lynette’s apartment complex. With one last goodbye shared, Charlotte and [Y/N] were off to get to their dorm as soon as possible — promising Lynette to contact her once they got back. 

𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇

@state-of-grac3 @santaluna @meigalaxy @romyoia @meurtreofcrows moonjellyfishie floweringanna

date of posting — july 24th 2024

[wndaswife]

Hey, can you do a stepmom Wanda fanfic with innocent reader or professor Wanda and bimbo reader. You don’t have to if you feel uncomfortable.

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

tags: smut, drugging, manipulation, somnophilia, hair pulling, face slapping, cunnilingus, dubcon, mommy kink, dollification, degradation, praise, aftercare, dom!professor!wanda, sub!bimbo!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 1959

a/n: prof wanda n bimbo reader was such a good idea

You asked your professor for help with your final assignment essay, the rubric in your hands as you approached her desk during her office hours. Your TA was unhelpful, giving passive aggressive advice at most whenever you contacted them for assistance, and as the deadline for your essay began looming over you dangerously close, you were scrambling for help, and you’d do anything to get it.

Your class didn’t have a final exam, but rather a huge research project that you should’ve been working on within the last month, but you weren’t. You hadn’t even opened up the rubric until last week.

Professor Maximoff was passionate about what she taught, and she had always been so sweet to you, so over the last few months, you had tried your best to attend her lectures, even if only to scroll through social media aimlessly the entire time.

Not knowing whether or not your professor would help you out in the eleventh hour was something that settled heavily in your stomach while you walked across campus to her office.

But Wanda was as helpful and saccharine sweet as she always had been. She looked up at you from her desk with an excited smile when you entered her office. When she asked to take you out for coffee, you initially agreed to her offer because you needed help, although you also found yourself excited to spend time with her. The dark glints in her green eyes as you turned to leave her office with her was lost on you.

The line at the cafe the two of you went to was long, so Wanda lined up for you while you sat at one of the tables reading over your essay rubric. After several minutes, Wanda approached you with your iced coffee in hand and her latte in the other. You never questioned why you had accepted her offer so easily. You were at one of Wanda’s favourite cafes in the city, sitting beside her at a table while her hand was placed on your thigh.

Wanda complimented your pretty smiles and carefree attitude. You let her squeeze your thigh under the table and she complimented your pretty eyes. You talked little about the essay you had originally gone to her to discuss.

“So, professor, I was-”

Wanda’s fingers moved forward, snaking around your inner thigh and making you freeze. “Please, darling, it’s Wanda,” she corrected with a sweet smile. 

Despite her proximity that anyone else might call unprofessional, you couldn’t help but give into her advances, letting your professor touch you the way she wanted to. She had even asked you whether or not you had a boyfriend, and like the naive girl you were, you simply drank your iced coffee happily while you discussed everything from a lack of a boyfriend to a disinterest in having one.

“O-Okay,” you hesitated before smiling, your nervousness quickly being overtaken by joy at being so close to your university’s nicest, and prettiest, professor. “Wanda, I was just wondering if we could talk about my assignment a little, if you wanted to.”

With her hand on your upper arm, Wanda replied, “Of course we can, sweetheart. I’ll just drive us back to school and we can go through it there. Does that sound good to you?” You nodded with a happy smile, and Wanda’s hand ran down your arm supportively as she picked up her things. She wrapped an arm around your hips and you walked out with her as if you were a child who couldn’t have found their way out of the cafe on your own without her help. And that wasn’t entirely false.

The soft hum of Wanda’s car as she drove, the warm scent of her enveloping you as you sat in her passenger’s seat, lulled you to sleep. You felt guilty for it, as Wanda had only just extended her hand out to help you, and you were taking advantage of her by nearly falling asleep in her car, but overwhelming fatigue had suddenly come over you.

You sipped at your cold drink periodically to keep you awake, but it had only seemed to worsen the warm sleepy feeling that spread through your body.

Wanda’s hand was placed on your leg as she drove, running her hand up and down your thigh soothingly. You fell asleep within the next two minutes. 

Waking up wasn’t so much of a challenge as it was confusing. Your mind was a complete blur, your surroundings dark and unfamiliar. You knew that you weren’t in Wanda’s car anymore, at least. Had you forgotten the entire day? As you groaned and tried to find your hands, your body twisted to the side, only to be held back up again by your hip. 

Something soft laid atop you, flush against your chest and stomach, and you heard mumbling in your ear. Your head recoiled from the sudden intrusion, but a hand was harshly brought to the side of your head, pulling you against someone’s face. 

“You’re a sweet girl, Y/N,” you made out. The lips of whoever was speaking was pressed against your ear, their breath warm as it blew down your neck. “So sweet to me.” 

The scent of them made you hum with a smile, pleased at the praise. You felt them grin against your ear. It was only when they began grunting softly against the side of your head that you put together what they were doing. 

With one of their hands holding your hip, the other held your wrists up above your head, preventing you from moving out from underneath them. Your ass was exposed, your skirt hiked up to your waist and your panties pulled to the side. 

Then, the walls of a room came into focus, then a headboard. A bedroom that wasn’t yours. 

The familiar shade of your professor’s dark brown hair flashed in front of your eyes, swaying in time with the soft jerks behind you. 

You heard yourself moaning, the rhythmic noise soothing your throat.

With a hand wrapped around your chin, your face was refocused upwards. You were met with your professor looking down on you with a small smile, her eyebrows furrowed together. What was she doing on top of you?

Your eyes travelled down her body. She wasn’t wearing a jacket anymore. Her turtleneck’s sleeves were pushed up her arms. Her slacks… had gone too. 

Her hips were thrusting down against yours. Your eyes widened when a thick glistening strap was pulled from your hole, sticky white ropes connecting her cock and your pussy, before she thrusted back into your sopping hole with force. 

A hard slap came across your face and your hair was pulled into Wanda’s fist to make you look back up at her again.

“Pay attention to me,” she spat, her expression suddenly cold and stern. 

You squinted, your cheek stinging as your professor’s features became clearer. “W… Wanda?” you stuttered out hesitantly.

Her expression relaxed and she let go of your hair, petting your head softly. “That’s right,” she cooed.

“What’s happening?” you asked, tears forming in your eyes at the sheer confusion that had come over you. You felt so dumb and small. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, dear,” Wanda reassured, slightly breathless. “Nothing your stupid little brain could understand even if I tried to explain it to you.” Her words should’ve stung, should’ve made you cry harder, but you simply sniffled and nodded at the soft coo of her degradation.

Her head was thrown back as your hips bucked upward into her instinctively, making the harness of her strap make harsh contact with her clit. 

Wanda’s hand slipped between your stomach and hers and she looked down at you again. Her fingers were pushed through your folds. She parted them, letting you hear how they parted stickily. “Your tight little cunt is taking my dick so well,” she said. 

You flushed at the praise though you felt dirty for it. 

Her hand slipped out from between the two of you and her palm was stuck across your face again without warning. You whimpered, writhing beneath her. 

“Mommy… please stop,” you begged tearily, the harsh pain making your cheek sting. “You’re hurting me.”

Wanda took your chin again. “You think that’s something to be proud of, puppy?” she asked. “That filthy little pussy is nothing to be proud of. You’re such a braindead fucking slut.” She spat at your face and you recoiled. “You don’t deserve mommy’s cock.”

She moved to slip off of you, but your arms raised and wrapped around her waist. “No, mommy, I’m sorry!” you cried, tears spilling down your reddened cheeks. “I’m so sorry, mommy. I want your cock. I feel so icky. Please help.”

Your professor leaned back down against you. “Don’t cry, baby,” she hushed. She kissed your tear-stained cheeks. “You want my help?” 

You nodded.

You flinched at the raising of Wanda’s hand, but it came down to cup your cheek instead, her thumb rubbing her saliva into your skin. 

“That’s a good girl,” she said. You whimpered at the praise, suddenly feeling the need to cry even at that. “You’re just mommy’s sweet little cockwhore, hm?” Wanda asked, kissing your forehead. “You like getting your tight little pussy fucked by mommy’s big cock?”

You closed your eyes and nodded again “Yes, mommy,” you answered obediently. 

All of your classes were missed that day, but you spent not even a moment thinking about them. Wanda fucked your tight pussy all day until you’re too fucked out and dumb to protest to any of her advances. At one point, you got on your knees while she fucked your throat until you were crying. She spanked your pussy until it was puffy and red. 

All the while, you mumbled out how happy you were to be mommy’s little fuckhole. You were so happy to be her little girl, so happy to have her cock fucking your tight cunt. 

When Wanda eventually unfastened her strap, she gave you a shower, holding your abused little body up while she washed your hair. She dried you up with a towel after having you sit up on the washroom counter. She rubbed lotion onto you, massaging your sore body comfortingly, then dressed you up like her little doll, all cute and sleepy in her soft clothes. With a kiss on your forehead, Wanda tucked you in under her blankets.

You fell asleep in her bed dreaming of her pretty green eyes while she gave you full marks on your unfinished assignment online. Afterwards, she made you dinner- hot soup and baked bread. She woke you up, peppering your face with soft kisses. With your arms wrapped around her waist dependently, Wanda led you downstairs to the kitchen.

You were just as happy to have dinner with Wanda as you were at the cafe earlier, swinging your legs in your seat and blabbering off joyfully about miscellaneous topics. 

Once cuddled upstairs in bed with her, Wanda led you down between her thighs, gripping your head between both hands as she guided you through eating her out. 

“Faster, whore,” Wanda commanded. Her grip on your hair tightened, her nails running down your scalp. “Eat my pussy out just like that.” She came into your mouth and pulled you back up to run her tongue up your coated cheeks.

With you pulled against her chest covered in blankets and embraced tightly in Wanda’s arms, you fell asleep once more, not having questioned for a moment being at your professor’s place being cared for like her sweet doll. 

Perhaps that was why Wanda took you home to begin with, and why you fell asleep nuzzling your face into her breasts.

[lunarbuck]

The Kiss (prof!bucky x f!reader)

AU- Professor/Student

Pairing: professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.2k

Summary: You’ve always had a crush on Professor Barnes… little did you know he has been hiding some feelings of his own

Warnings: age difference, fluff, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names (Sir, sweetheart, baby), praise

A/N: this is my entry for @the-slumberparty Week 4 challenge! the AU I got was professor/student and I've been wanting to write this for a long time!!! I hope you guys enjoy <3

full masterlist

“That’s it for today. You’re all dismissed.” Book bags and jackets zip loudly as the small lecture center begins to empty. You start packing up your things, but you don’t get out of your seat yet. This certainly has been your favorite of all the classes you’ve taken in the past four years. White Collar Crime, taught by Professor Barnes, is one of the most interesting courses you’ve taken, and you also love the professor. 

Prof. Barnes is a lawyer by day, and a lecturer by evening, as he says. And though he’s often incredibly busy with cases, it's easy to see how passionate he is about teaching. You watch as he packs up his belongings, a few students quickly asking him questions about the upcoming exam. Prof. Barnes used to seem scary and intimidating to you, but after a few weeks, you started catching glimpses of his grin, of light in his eye, and you’ve been a goner ever since. 

His features are sharp, and he always looks so put together. His brown hair is clipped close on the sides and kept short on top, which suits his personality well. His broody exterior is one that most people fear, but it just draws you in, and you can’t seem to stay away.

You grab your things and start toward the front of the room. Typically, you make up a question as an excuse to talk to him, but today you have a real one. You’re the last student in the room, and Prof. Barnes is already watching you approach.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back and forth on your heels momentarily. “Last week, you mentioned being able to go over our exam answers with you, so we know what to study. Could I schedule time with you to do that?” You do your best not to let your eyes drift from his, but it’s tough. His shirts are always perfectly tailored to him, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs. 

Prof. Barnes doesn’t smile, but you can see the warmth in his eyes, which is better, in your opinion. “Of course. Do you have time now? This was my last class of the evening, so we can just go right to my office.” Your heart stutters in your chest at his words. You’ve gone to his office hours a few times, but there’ve always been other students outside or in the office with you. You’ve never been alone with him like that.

And as it turns out, you don’t have anything going on for the rest of the night. “That works for me,” you say, grinning. Prof. Barnes leads the way out of the lecture hall and to the building where his office is. Even though neither of you speaks the entire way, you’re buzzing. He walks close enough that sometimes your arms brush, and you can smell his cologne. 

When you arrive in his office, Prof. Barnes instructs you to sit across from him at his desk while he gets everything ready. The office is filled with books and papers, organized in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, but you can imagine it’s perfect for Prof. Barnes. Your eyes trail over the spines of the books, and you notice that not all are law books, but many of them are classics. 

“So, here’s your last exam,” he says, pulling your attention back to him. Prof. Barnes has laid out your scantron page as well as the exam itself, and has your grades pulled up on his computer. “You did very well, which I’m not surprised by, and the questions you did get wrong, the whole class struggled with.” Your mind short-circuits as he speaks. He’s paid enough attention to you not to be surprised by your good grade? The class itself isn’t very big, all things considered, but there are 50 students, and this isn’t the only class he teaches.

“Oh, thank you, Sir,” you reply shyly, surprised that that’s what you called him. You’ve never addressed him that way, but you love how it felt. The corner of his mouth tips up into an almost smile as he suppresses a slight shiver.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he adds, flipping through the exam booklet. You quirk an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He finds the first question you got wrong. “So here’s what you said,” he points to your answer on the scantron. “What do you think the right answer is?”

His bright blue eyes watch you as you think, tracing over your features like he’s trying to analyze you. You try not to shrink under his gaze.

“Differential association?” You suggest, not entirely sure of the response, but the way Prof. Barnes’ eyes light up tells you you’re right.

“Correct,” he says, marking down your answer on a new sheet of paper. “Good girl.” The words slip out, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you did, and they go straight to your lower belly, lighting a spark. Prof. Barnes doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said, opting to continue through the other questions you missed. 

Each time you answer a question correctly, he smiles a little more, and looks a little more pleased. But all you can focus on is how he called you ‘good girl’. It echoes through your head, making your heart beat faster and heat lick in your belly. 

As you answer the last question, Prof. Barnes’ tongue traces over his lower lip. Your eyes track the movement, and you suck in a breath. He nods, indicating your answer is correct and clasps his hands on the desk.

“You’re more than ready for the exam,” he tells you, keeping eye contact. “You need to give yourself more credit, and trust that you know the answer. You’re smart. Trust your gut, okay?” You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Thank you, Sir,” you say, voice breathy. Alarm bells go off in your head that you’ve definitely alerted Prof. Barnes to the state that you’re in, but honestly, you don’t care. You’re sure women throw themselves at him constantly, probably even some students. He’s handsome in that classic way, strong features and bright eyes. He knows he’s attractive; he knows people want him.

He’s close enough that if you leaned in a bit, you could kiss him. You’re desperate to know what his lips would feel like against yours, what he’d taste like. Would he hold your face to lead the kiss? Would his fingers tangle in your hair?

Even though you don’t want to, you stand and gather your things. As you walk toward the door, you hear Prof. Barnes approach. He reaches the door before you and stands in front of it, blocking your exit.

He opens his mouth but closes it immediately like he isn’t sure what to say. His eyebrows furrow, and he takes a deep breath. “You liked it,” he states, as if that’s enough information for you to go off of. When you don’t respond, he continues. “You liked when you called me ‘sir’ and when I said you were a good girl.” His voice doesn’t waver, but he fists his hands like he’s holding himself back from something. 

Your lips fall open, stunned at his observation. The way he’s speaking to you now makes the coil in your belly tighten, thinking about how he’d called you a good girl only fueling the feeling.

“You’re easy to read,” he continues. “You always stay after class to ask me questions. You come to my office hours when we both know damn well you don’t need the help. You bit your lip when you called me ‘sir’. You shivered when I called you ‘good girl’.” Your breathing has sped up, causing your chest to heave.

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure you’d know how to speak even if you had the words.

“You thought I wouldn't figure it out, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He steps toward you, grips your jacket, which you’ve been clutching to your chest this whole time, and tugs it from your arms. “You thought I hadn’t seen you, that I hadn’t noticed you.”

You nod as he closes the distance between you. His smell invades your nostrils, making you feel dizzy.

“Well, I noticed, sweetheart.” Prof. Barnes places his hands on the sides of your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. He’s giving you time to pull away, giving you an out. But you don’t want it. You rest your hands in the bend of his arms and nod, giving him the permission he needs.

Prof. Barnes leans in and kisses you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He tilts your head slightly like you imagined he would, but you could never have imagined how soft his lips are. How good it feels to have his breath wash over your cheek. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, something distinctly him. He pulls you closer, removing the small space between your bodies, leaving you pressed against his chest. Prof. Barnes’ left hand leaves your face, shifting to cup the side of your neck before sliding down your back. It settles on your lower back, pressing you into him even more. 

You whimper into the kiss at the feeling of him, of being so close, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip. When he pulls away, you’re breathless. “You taste so sweet,” he muses, a smile growing on his face. “Just like I knew you would.”

For the next two weeks, Professor Barnes cancels class. Even when he’s busy with a case, he never cancels; he just switches the class to online. You can’t help but feel like it’s because of you. Because of the kiss. 

The kiss.

It plays on repeat in your head; it follows you into your dreams. How his lips molded to yours and his hands held your head, how they pressed you into him. It was all so perfect; it felt so right. But maybe it didn’t feel that way for Prof. Barnes. After he’d kissed you, you’d stayed for a little longer, wrapped up in him, but he got a call and had to leave right after. He’d kissed you on the way out, saying he’d see you soon, but you haven’t. 

You were supposed to have Prof. Barnes’ class today. It was supposed to be a review day for the exam next class, but again, class is canceled. Once you finish your morning classes, you have no reason to stay on campus, so you start walking back to your apartment. Your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, you find another text from your roommate begging you to go out tonight. You’ve been trying to get out of it, but you’re in the mood for a distraction, so you give in.

Later that night, you find yourself at one of the bars near campus. It’s not as packed as you thought, so you go to the bar and almost immediately get the bartender’s attention. He leans over the bar to hear you better, but you don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure before reaching your eyes again.

“What can I getcha?” He asks, giving you a smile. You rattle off your order and something for your roommate and make pleasant, if not flirtatious, conversation with the bartender. He’s cute but not really your type. Your type these days has been older, broodier, more intense…

You need to stop thinking about Professor Barnes. You need to get him out of your system.

The bartender, whose name you’ve learned is Troy, sets your drinks down in front of you with a wink, and you smile in return, sliding the cash over to him. Your roommate grabs her drink quickly before running off to say hi to one of her other friends, leaving you at the bar alone. You turn around to find somewhere a little less crowded when you feel someone’s eyes on you. 

It takes you a second, but your gaze connects with two familiar bright blue eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. 

Bucky

She saw me. 

I watch as the bartender gets her attention again, and though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I see her smile at him. I clench my teeth at the sight. The bartender slides something across the bar to her, and she looks surprised but accepts it, tucking it into the back pocket of her tight jeans.

She looks incredible tonight in her fitted shirt and those jeans that make her ass look perfect. The bartender gets pulled away to do his job, and I watch as the woman that has occupied my thoughts for so long turns back around and finds me in the crowd.

She is like a ray of fucking sunshine, so bright in my life, and as she walks toward me slowly, I can practically feel her warmth already. She approaches me tentatively like she’s worried I’ll disappear the moment she gets close enough to touch.

“Professor Barnes,” she whispers, but I hear her despite the noise of the crowd. It’s pathetic, the way my cock hardens just at her voice, but she has me wrapped around her little finger, whether she realizes it or not. 

“Sweetheart,” I reply. I don’t miss the way she shivers, the way heat flares in her eyes. 

“Where’ve you been?” She asks, fiddling with the straw in her drink. She’s avoiding eye contact, but I want to see her beautiful eyes. I stand, towering over her, and that gets her attention. She tilts her head up, and I have to stifle a groan at the sight of her looking up at me with those doe eyes.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” She nods just a little as if her head did it without her mind’s consent. I let my fingers trail up her bare arm, her skin soft against my calloused hand, until my hand cups her jaw. She leans into my touch, and I brush my thumb over her cheek.

I lean in, getting close enough that her shaking breaths fan over my face, and whisper, “I missed you too.” She tilts her head to try and kiss me, but I hold her face still. We’re in a bar on campus full of students. I can’t risk us being seen like this. Even touching her is dangerous.

“Oh.” She sounds defeated, and my chest squeezes. I’m not rejecting her. Quite the opposite, actually.

“The things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers. “I cannot do in this bar.” Her breath stutters and her eyes glaze over with need. She quickly downs her drink and finds her roommate to tell her she’s leaving. When she returns to me, her nerves and excitement pour from her, and I feel myself beginning to smile. 

“Where are we going?” She asks, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. I tangle my fingers with her and tug her toward the door. My car is parked a block away. I didn’t drink. I didn’t come here to drink, so I’m good to drive.

The drive to my place is only about 10 minutes, but it feels like hours. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles go pale. I’m desperate to taste her again, to feel her writhing against me. I’d wanted to take her right then and there in my office, but it was too risky. I’m so close to having her after waiting for what’s felt like forever.

We pull into the driveway of my house, and I watch her take a deep breath. I can tell she’s nervous, but I also see the way she’s watching my every move, the way she so clearly wants me.

I shut the front door behind her, and I’m on her. I press her back against the door and kiss her. She tastes so fucking good, so soft and sweet against my lips. She grips my jacket as my fingers tangle in her hair. My tongue swipes across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me with a moan.

“You’re so sweet, baby,” I whisper against her lips. She shudders, arching against me. My cock is hard in my jeans, and I grind against her to show her just how much she affects me. I kiss her again, drinking in the way she reacts to every touch.

“Please,” she moans. I pull back slightly and take in the way her face is twisted in pleasure. 

“Please, what, sweetheart?” She furrows her brows in frustration, and I can’t help but smirk as she does it. She’s so worked up, but I want her begging.

She pants for a moment before finding her words. “I just need you,” she whispers. “Please, Sir, I need you so bad.” Her voice comes out a needy whine, and the way she calls me sir nearly sends me over the edge.

“Good girl.” I press a bruising kiss to her again before I pick her up princess-style. I walk her up the stairs to my bedroom and toss her on my bed. I can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner, that I tried to deny myself the pleasure of seeing her on my bed, panting and wanting. 

I shrug off my jacket and toss it aside before approaching the bed. She looks up at me with big doe eyes, those eyes that watch me every time we’re in class, the ones that I’ve seen in my dreams. I lean over the bed and grab her ankles, tugging her until her legs hang over the edge.

She watches my hands as I run my hands up her legs, appreciating every beautiful curve of her body. My fingers tease the skin above her waistband. I move to unbutton her jeans, waiting for her to tell me to go on, and once she nods, I peel them off her.

I am breathless, utterly hypnotized by her as I kneel at the foot of the bed. Her panties are simple, lacy and black, and when I run my thumb up and down over her pussy, she lets out the most beautiful moan. 

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” I ask, rubbing a circle over her clit. She shakes her head, fisting the sheets. “Since the day I saw you, I’ve wanted you. Every time you came to my office, I wanted to kick everyone out and put you over my desk. I’ve wanted to keep you after class every day, have you moaning my name so loud it would echo in the lecture hall.”

When she lets out a strangled moan, I pull her panties down and revel in how gorgeous and wet she is. I tuck her panties into my pocket and run my hands over her bare skin. She shivers and tries to pull her legs together, but I don’t let her. 

“I’ve wanted to taste you since I saw you. You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” I ask, adding a teasing tone to my voice. 

“Please,” she begs. “Please, Sir.” I grin at her pussy and dive in. The second my tongue swipes over her pussy she arches, her fingers digging into my hair. She lets out a string of expletives as I suck her clit and explore her perfect cunt. 

She tastes so much better than I ever could have imagined, and I know I’ll be addicted to this forever. She is so responsive, so sensitive to every swipe of my tongue, and all it does is make me work harder for her. I graze my teeth over her clit, and she jolts but pulls my hair more, guiding me to exactly where she wants me.

I work her up more and more until I feel her trembling beneath me. “You wanna come, sweetheart?” I ask, sliding a finger into her pussy. She’s hot and tight around my finger, and I feel her clench around it.

“Yes, please,” she replies, voice breathy from the pleasure. I click my tongue in mock-disappointment. I nip at her inner thigh, soothing the bite with a kiss.

“Please, who? Who’s making you feel good? Who’s gonna make you come?” She squirms a little and tries to get me to keep eating her out, but I don’t give in, no matter how much I want to keep tasting her.

“Please, Sir,” she amends. “You’re making me feel so good, please, Sir. I need you so bad.”

“Such a good girl,” I groan. I double my efforts on her clit and slide a second finger inside her, hitting a spot that makes her twitch.

Her legs tighten around my head as she comes, and it takes everything in me to not come right along with her. I ease up when I notice her getting too sensitive and kiss my way up her body. 

“You’re perfect,” I tell her, sucking a mark on her neck. She helps me pull her shirt and bra off before she starts working my shirt off as well. A moment later, we’re both naked, and I love the way her eyes trace over every inch of me. 

She pulls me in for another kiss, and I lean on my forearms, keeping myself hovering just over her.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she tells me between kisses. “Wanted you for so long.�� I grin into the kiss, then pull away to dig through my bedside table for a condom. She watches with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

“This okay?” I ask, rolling the condom onto myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone how I want her. 

She nods enthusiastically. “Please, Sir, please fuck me.” My head lulls back at her words.

I line myself up with her pussy and push in just a little, watching her face contort. Inch by inch, I sink inside her wet heat, and once I’m fully inside her, I let out a low moan. I give her a moment to adjust before I pull out and slam back in.

I know I should be gentle, that I should warm her up to this, but I can’t. There will be time for gentleness, and now’s not that time. I set a brutal, deep pace, and she takes it like the good girl she is.

Her fingers scrape down my back as she urges me on, legs wrapping around me to keep me close. I knew she’d be able to take it. I knew she’d be good for me. I tell her over and over how perfect she feels, how good she’s taking me, and every word of praise makes her squeeze tighter around me.

“Oh my god, I’m so close,” she moans. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my dick.” I keep doing what I know she likes and watch as she falls apart beneath me. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than this. Than her. Once she comes down from her high, I switch our position. I turn her over and hike her ass up, keeping her head low on the mattress. My mouth waters as I press into her again. Her jaw drops open, and her eyes squeeze shut, and I start fucking her again.

Each sound she makes goes straight to my cock. Every moan, every whimper, brings me closer to the edge. I grip her hips hard, but I don’t care if I’m leaving marks. I want her to see them, to run her fingers over them as she thinks about the way I made her come on my cock. 

My hips start to stutter, my thrust getting sloppy as I get closer and closer to coming. I wish I could fill her up and see my cum drip out of her, but I know we’re not there yet. I haul her chest up, pressing her back to my front, and snake my hands around her. One of my hands cups her neck, not choking her but gripping it, and the other teases her breast. My fingers tweak her nipple, and she jolts in my hold.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” I ask, punctuating my words with deeper thrusts. She moans but doesn’t answer. “Answer me, sweetheart,” I say, practically scolding her.

“Fuck, I love it so much, Sir.” Her voice is strung out with pleasure. The hand that has been playing with her breasts falls to her pussy, and I tease her clit, pulling another orgasm out of her. She’s so loud when she comes, and it pulls me over with her.

I come hard, my vision blacking out on the edges, and we collapse together on the bed. 

We watch each other as we come down from our highs. She smiles sheepishly at me, and I kiss away any doubts that might be clouding her mind right now. “That was perfect,” I tell her, kissing her nose. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she replies. I pull her close to me, wrapping her in my arms. 

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” I remind her. She tilts her head up to keep eye contact, and I love the light that shines in her beautiful eyes.

“What should I call you then?”

“Bucky.” She smiles at the nickname my friend gave me when we were younger.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” She giggles as I kiss her, and I lock that sound away, keeping it somewhere I’ll never lose it.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

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@buckyb-stan

[shitacademicswrite]

I just made the transition from community college to a state school where I'm taking a lot more 3000 level classes instead of 100-200 level classes and I feel like I'm drowning. I'm a first gen student and I love school but my brain cannot wrap itself around a lot of academic texts and I feel like my posts on discussion boards are just not great. Any tips? Or literally like any key words I need to use with help centers/professors/google to figure out what I need to do?

I would strongly recommend talking to your professors and advisor. If the problem is with individual classes and their information, go to your professors' office hours and ask for help with the information or the assignments. A lot of students don't utilize office hours, but they are literally there for students who need help, and professors WANT you to come to office hours if you're struggling! It also proves to the prof that you are trying, so they're more likely to cut you slack if you need it at some point.

If the problem is that ALL your classes seem too difficult, you should see if you can make an appointment with your advisor (if you have one in your declared major) or an on-campus help center or tutoring center, or even see if your university has an Office of Disabilities (they probably do). What you may need is a change of concentration, a change of major, some general study advice, or even some accommodations for learning disabilities. Your college wants to give you these things! If you talk to somebody and they don't know how to help you, ask them who on campus can.

The more specific you can get about what specifically it is that you're struggling with, the better advice and help you're going to get. Are you not understanding lectures? Struggling with the amount of reading? Is it a particular class/classes? What about those classes are hard? Try to figure out specifically what it is that's tripping you up so you can ask somebody about those things.

You can also drop me a line in private messaging if you want to talk!

[missmeinyourbones]

sorry i was so tired!!! req for how the aot boys are when they’re in love❤️‍🔥🥰

aot boys x being in love!

note: this has been sitting in my inbox/drafts for a while but i finally finished it lol so thank u for being patient <3 aot boys are big simps 

eren is so annoying LMFAO i know it’s a common thought but i strongly believe that his love language is being annoying (which is so relatable FR) like he’s so in love with you that he will do anything he can to piss you off (affectionately). you are just sitting on the couch peacefully and he has so much love for you spilling over inside of him that he just has to drop all of his body weight on top of you and bite your arm???? he just constantly wants to be attached at your hip or touching you. he thrives off of you being like 🙄🙄 ur annoying. JUST SO he can be like 😁😁 ya but you love me. i can’t stand him

armin is the most observant lover. when he’s in love with you, nothing is getting past his big ass brain. you could walk into your apartment after a bad day at work and he can tell you are upset just by the way you put your bag down???? he knows when you are sleeping versus when you are faking being asleep because of your breathing patterns???? please he’s so INLOVE with you it’s insane. he just thinks that you are the best thing to ever grace this planet so he plans on using his brain to absorb every single detail it can about you 

jean is whipped. in all definitions of the word. if he is in love with you, he doesn't want you to lift a damn finger. ever again. he loves loves loves to do things for you, he sees it as his boyfriend right of passage. he's like..if i love you...and i'm your boyfriend....why would i let you carry that? why wouldn't i buy you flowers every week? why wouldn't i worship the ground you walk on? simp extraordinaire. he wants everyone under the sun to know he's in love w you!!!! and that he is the one who gets to make you laugh and do things for you and sleep next to you at night!!!! he's such a cornball. i want 20 of him.

connie knows he’s in love with you because he never shuts the fuck up about you. LMFAO he assumes he must talk about you a lot but he doesn’t fully understand it until he’s out with jean and sasha and he mentions your name in almost every conversation. on the 4th time ur name comes up they’re like STFU connie we get it ur in love 🤮🤮 he just loves you so much that he can make literally anything relate back to you lol. he’s out to eat with his friends and he’s like “yeah me and y/n have been here a few times, we split the appetizer combo” or he’s in class and his prof is talking about the science behind migraines and he’s raising his hand like “omfg my s/o gets really bad headaches :/ what can i do to help or prevent them?” he’s a simp but dont tell him i said that

levi is petrified LMFAO he is so scared to be vulnerable w someone in the way that love requires :/ he probably realizes he's in love with you when he's in a bad mood or going through something and he completely freaks out and yells at you and shuts down. he slams the door in your face and sits in his office for what feels like hours, hating himself for taking his anger out on you. he's positive you'll leave him after this, so when he opens the door and still sees you standing there, waiting for him as a shoulder to cry on & an ear to listen, he knows he's in love :) he love spending quality time with you, specifically being able to sit in a comfortable silence with you <3 he's never that vulnerable w anyone else so it is extremely special and dear to him

reiner loving you is him letting you see what he thinks is the worst of him, if that makes sense. like he doesn’t even realize that he’s able to openly talk to you about his fears and insecurities and all of the “ugly” parts of him (so he says)  until one night you guys are just ranting in bed and he’s like “i’ve never done this before” and you’re like wdym? and he’s like “let someone take care of me” :((((( he loves how he can fully trust you to hold him in every meaning of the word possible. you can see his good, bad, and ugly, and still choose him. that means more to him than he could ever put into words <3

porco shows his love for you in the small things. he doesn’t even realize how much he thinks about you and your needs until he’s already doing something for you. he’s doing his usual grocery shopping and he’s like huh this is y/n’s favorite cereal, i might as well pick it up for when they come over and want something sweet. he’s having dinner at his parents house and he’s like wait mom can you help me package up some leftovers for y/n??? they come home late from work on weekends and need something quick to eat. if theres one thing about porco, its that he LOVES to pretend he’s hard or somethin. that he’s this big scary guy who doesn’t care about anything. spoiler  alert: he’s not. especially when it comes to you :)