#podcasts for students

[vvanillavveins]

I don't think we give Jonathan Harker nearly enough credit for his absolutely unhinged choices. In 1897, that pathetic wet cat of a man was written with enough grit, willpower, and raw human stupidity to rival any of our modern horror podcast protagonists. When faced with a centuries-old vampire, in a coffin, drenched in fresh blood, he really thought the best thing to do was to hit it in the face WITH A SHOVEL. The audacity. The misplaced confidence. The sheer desperation. No plan. No hesitation. Running on fear and spite alone. And i fucking love him for it. Truly the character of all time.

[uowdubai]

If you want to learn in a fun and different way, away from the usual classroom rules, you might want to explore the enriching world of educational podcasts.

To know more visit: https://www.uowdubai.ac.ae/podcast

[hiddenbookcasepodcast]

Hope you're as excited as we are for tomorrow's episode on (looks at smudged writing on hand) Otters the Spotter 🦦🕵️🔎

[esperfraud]

When John keeps gaslighting himself into believing that he became attached to humanity because of a random nurse and not because of Arthur

[orionchildofhades]

you ever think about how there might have been some college athlete living in he tower who had to hear Andrew and Neil's convo late at night on the roof cause they were on the last floor and opened their window

imagine hearing the 'youre a pipe dream' or stuff like that while you're brushing your teeth or putting together a late night snack or trying to fall asleep or something

[andromydagalaxy]

Satisfaction

~ NSFW, teacher x student ~ Reader is a senior in high school, bored and unsatisfied, they turn to their calculus teacher for help with more than just math problems.

I've been waiting to publish this one and 7,000 words later, it's finally done. I hope yall like it.

~~~

You slump in your chair, spinning your pencil around your fingers. Your eyes are low and spacing out, mentally thinking about the overindulgence of tongue the boy you were making out with last night had. Another stupid, boring parking lot hook up. Every date to you felt uninteresting and led nowhere or was just sexual but never satisfying. Sex has never felt like how others in your life made it out to be, making you think it would be romantically beautiful, hot and heavy, especially your first time. Nothing, not books, movies, or tv shows, show how awkward and self-conscious you could feel during it. Especially with an inexperienced or sexually incompatible partner.

That is unfortunately the state of your peers. Your mind has become a daydreaming vessel for sexual fantasies, with various unattainable people. Long, drawn out foreplay, with strong hands moving up and down your thighs, lips soft and in sync with a gentle tongue, and consistent hip thrusts. A build up of so much sexual energy, there’s a physical heat radiating from your pussy and an unbearable tingling and pulsing. Someone smart and experienced. Patient and conscious. Dominant and confident.

Your gaze moves to your calculus teacher, solving an equation on the whiteboard. The sunlight from the windows shone onto the curling piece of brown hair falling into his aviator glasses. He had undone a few buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up during your daydreaming. Your cheeks turn red and you bite your lip, your mind wandering back to those images now replacing them with Mr. Schlatt. He’s tall with a beautiful blend of muscle and fat, the perfect dad bod, to match his sarcastic, no-nonsense attitude. You notice the grip his thick fingers have, wrapping around the marker. The way he fully pulls off those mutton chops with the slightly messy look, grown out hair curling and frizzing at the ends, big glasses covered in a few smuggles, and a button-down shirt untucked.

The head of your eraser slips into your mouth and your hips squirms in your seat, observing him so closely. Your body grows warmer, your chest and crotch pulsing at the thought of what it would be like to feel even a slight touch from him. Your gaze moves down to his crotch, hoping for a glimpse.

You wonder how hard it could get. How long it could get? How hard could he go? How long could he go?

~~~

You sigh, finishing the last of your homework. The clock read 11:12 PM, a later night for you as finals are approaching. You stuff the pages into your backpack and run into your bed, phone in hand, ready to wind down.

Now free to do so, your mind wanders to Mr. Schlatt. You’ve spent the past couple weeks growing more attracted to him, daydreaming about him before bed, during school, after school, and especially during his class.

His hands grab your waist, skirt still on, panties pulled down, and shirt fully unbuttoned. His dick perfectly hard inside you, tits swinging above the desk filled with half graded papers. The lights are on, the door is unlocked, and every window is open, begging to be seen.

“Fuck, you’re so big.”

“And you’re taking it so well,” He moans out pulling back your hair. ���You’re just so easy.” Your eyelids fell shut and your grip tightened on the edge of the desk, your sweat dripping onto the papers.

You let out a few shallow breaths, feeling your climax hit, and slowing the pace on your clit. A calming wave washed over your body and you soon fell asleep cuddling under your sheets.

~~~

You woke up on time, a rare occurrence, eager for today, to see Mr. Schlatt and wear your little outfit. You grab your plaid, pleated, and pastel pink skirt, slipping it on over your lace white thong. Your top is also white, a skin tight turtleneck with short sleeves, and a knitted pattern. You pull up your white socks with frills around the ankles and shove your pink tennis shoes into your feet. You brush out your hair, leaving it down and wavy and apply some blush, mascara, and lip gloss to your face.

You take a look in your full length mirror and smile. Adorable and cute.

~~~

You spend all of your classes rubbing your thighs together, chewing on your writing utensils, and messing with the collar of your shirt and the hem of your skirt. AP Calculus is last and today is definitely the slowest it’s ever been.

Your mind absorbs nothing.

You finally get to his class and he has the top three buttons of his shirt undone, chest hair poking out, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked, and sweat glistening off his forehead. It’s like he’s teasing and tempting you more and more everyday. You feel yourself throbbing against your chair, not taking in a word he is saying.

After the lesson is over, and your peers start packing up their stuff, you sit in your chair and wait for them to leave, before packing your bag and walking up to his desk. You fix your hair and smooth out your skirt.

“Hey, Schlatt?” He looks up from his computer, quickly scanning his eyes over your outfit. You usually come to school stylish, adding some accessories to your outfits, but wearing a skirt is new. “Can we meet after school today, I don’t get this.” You gesture at the board filled with today’s calc problems.

Schlatt furrows his brows, tilting his head at you. “You, hon?” You bite your lip, smirking a bit at the pet name. “You’ve been doing basically perfect on the homework and on tests, what don’t you get?”

He’s staring up at you, the intense gaze from his brown eyes making your gut twist. You’re riding a high you haven’t experienced before, wanting to push the boundaries of your student/teacher relationship. So, you turn around, lifting yourself up on the edge of his desk, skirt riding up your thigh as you sit down, moving your leg up, and shifting your body towards him.

“You know, I just think that,” you trail off, observing Schlatt’s gaze moving down your figure much slower this time, his eyes widening as he stares at your leg covering up the papers scattering around his desk. Your gut twists again. “I just think that I need some personal, one-on-one time with you.”

He clears his throat and readjusts himself in his chair, struggling to find a place to comfortably put his hands. His hesitation to correct your inappropriate behavior and his wandering eyes fills you with confidence. “I’ve just been so distracted lately.” You slowly run a hand up your thigh, seductively moving your fingers towards the hem of your skirt, teasing the idea of showing him what’s underneath.

“Um, yeah, okay.” He goes back to looking at his computer. “I’ve got some time after school, just be back here in like half an hour.” You smile at his words, heart racing in your chest, your plan going swimmingly. “Now get off my desk.”

“Yes, Sir.” You hop off his desk and walk towards the door.

“Y/N.” You stop at the doorway, turning back around to face him. He’s leaning back in his chair, legs spread apart, and twirling a pen between his fingers, a small smirk on his face. “Don’t call me that.” His statement is firm and commanding and his voice is low and suggestive.

You feel your gut clench, your mouth watering, a strange combination of fear, anticipation, and arousal. Your grip on the reins is softening as he’s carefully slipping them out of your hands. He’s teasing you back.

“Sorry, Sir.” You run out the door before he can protest.

~~~

You stare at yourself in the mirror, adding another coat of lip gloss and spraying perfume all over your body. You turn to check the back of your outfit and notice your cheeks peeking out as you bend down a little. How you didn’t get dress coded today is beyond you.

You bite your lip. “Slut,” you mouth to yourself before heading back towards Schlatt’s classroom up the stairs.

“Sit,” he commands right as you open the door, pointing at the rows of empty desks. “And MY desk is not an option.” A blush grows on your face making your way over to the closest desk in the front and pushing it right up against the front of his desk. You plop down and cross your legs, longingly staring at the man in front of you.

“Okay, lemme just summarize the lesson from earlier, again.” He turns to the board, writing down an amalgamation of formulas from today’s lesson that you already understood perfectly. Just like in class, you zone out, thinking about how hairy the rest of his chest is. How big those arm muscles under his shirt really are. How thick his cock is. If he’s rough or more gentle.

“Any questions so far?” Schlatt turns back around towards you. Being brought back into reality, you clear your throat and sit up in your chair.

“Sorry, I got distracted. Can you go through it again?” He rolls his eyes and erases the board, writing a brand new problem.

“Here.” He holds the marker in your direction. “Try this problem.”

You get up from your chair, pulling your skirt up higher around your waist. You take the marker from his hand and start solving. This problem is easy, you know the steps, but you need to keep playing dumb. Your tummy turns as you carelessly write down a mistake you knew would get him frustrated. On beat, you hear his sigh.

“Wait.” Schlatt walks up behind you and grabs the marker from your hand. You stay in your spot, and just like you’ve envisioned, he puts his hand on your back trying to move your body away from the board. That’s when you take the opportunity and rub your ass slightly against the front of his pants while you move with the motion of his hand.

His breath hitches.

You swear you feel a small bump graze your skirt. Staring up at him towering over you, you watch the redness growing on his cheeks. You study all the beautiful imperfections on his face, while he avoids your gaze, focusing on fixing your careless mistake. When he finishes, he glances down at you, his groin growing warmer seeing you bite your lip with red cheeks, a cute face, and sparkling eyes staring at him.

“So, do you need me to explain what you did wrong here or did you figure it out?” His voice drips with sarcasm. He taps the end of the marker on your nose. Your heart races not knowing how to gracefully get to where you want with him. But maybe that’s the issue; doing it gracefully. You aren’t graceful and neither is this situation.

Mr. Schlatt definitely isn’t graceful either.

“I understand this.” You don’t even acknowledge the board, keeping your eyes locked with his. “There’s another problem I’m having trouble solving though.” Schlatt stares back at you, his cheeks are still red as his cock twitches.

“Oh, yeah?” His attention is fully on you. “What’s that?” You move your body closer to his, trying to smell his scent and gauge the reciprocation.

“I’ve been so distracted.” Your voice is unwavering and seductive like you’d practiced in your daydreams. You test the waters more and run your fingers across the hairs on his exposed forearm.

“I’ve noticed.” He crosses his arms, pulling them away from your fingers, but he keeps the rest of his body close. “You always look so flustered when I check on you during class, what’s distracting you?”

He’s engaging with you. He’s noticing more than you think. He checks on you. Of course, he probably does this with all of his students. But, he looks closely enough to know you’re flustered.

“What?” He hums, leaning his shoulder against the board. “You’ve been acting so.” He looks you up and down. “Bold today, you can’t share your little problem with me?”

“It doesn’t feel little,” you whisper out, hands fidgeting behind your back. There’s a genuine feeling of coyness wrapping itself up in your plan to tease the situation before dropping the bomb. Like the timer is ticking and the longer it goes the more anxious and hesitant you get.

“I used to be a teenager too, I think I can understand.”

You gulp.

“I guess it’s just… hormones, making me think about boys and–” You hesitate again, you can’t even bring yourself to say the stupid word. All day and night you’ve been spending thinking about him on top of you, grabbing you, undressing you, calling you his beautiful girl and also his dirty whore, letting him use your mouth under his desk, teasing you until you’re crying and begging for him to fuck you. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to say–

“Sex?” Schlatt is smiling, arms still crossed and leaning against the board. You feel your face warm up and you avoid his eyes, like if you stare too long you’d get on your knees and start begging. “You think I don’t understand that, Sweetheart?” Fuck, that pet name makes you throb. “I’ve never really thought too much about boys, but I still think about sex.”

“Oh my god, but it's like always on my mind,” You whine, crossing your arms and squeezing your thighs together. In the corner of your eye, you notice Schlatt staring down, observing the way your legs just moved.

“You learn how to control it better as you get older.”

“But, I just can’t stop thinking about this person.”

“Aww, you got a crush?” You nod your head.

“Yeah, um.” You move your gaze back to him. “He’s tall and really smart. I love listening to him explain things to me.” The blood is pumping in your ears. “He’s always a little messy when I see him in class, but in like the hottest way.” You’re wondering if he knows who you’re hinting at already or if he’s mentally running through the list of senior boys in AP Calculus, which isn’t very long. “But, he’s a little older and I feel like I can’t even tell him.” You pause and bare your eyes into his soul. “Or I might get in trouble.” He raises his brow, peering back behind him at the door and the small windows looking into the classroom. “All I want is his attention and…affection.” Schlatt’s pretty eyes turn back to you. “But I don’t know if he’d risk that with me.”

You feel your eyes watering, not because you’re sad or feeling any particularly negative emotion. Maybe some of it is the stress you’re experiencing about the current situation, but mostly it feels like tension. The sexual tension that’s been building up in your body and brain for weeks, the indescribable pull and high you’ve been getting around him. It feels like you’ve never had sex in your life and if this doesn’t happen how you’ve dreamed, you’re gonna shrivel up and never feel this good again.

“Okay, Hon.” He rubs his hands up and down your biceps. “You wanna tell me?” His touch is electric and warm. “We’ll keep it our little secret.” His touch is sucking up your tears and disolving the weeks of tension. “I’m your cool, chill teacher, you’re not getting in trouble.” You want more of his big, soft hands on you. So you trust him.

“All I can think about is you.” He slows the pace of his hands. “You look so hot in your button-down shirts and your messy hair and your glasses.” He stops, gently squeezing your biceps in his hands. He could easily physically do what he wants with you. You move your eyes down to his crotch. “I wanna see how big it is.”

“Y/N.” Oh shit, he’s reacting more surprised than you thought he would. He moves his hands away from you. “Jesus, your behavior lately makes more sense.” He sounds stern, like he’s about to scold you, exactly what you were worried about.

“Mr. Schlatt, I don’t know what to do.” Your eyes begin to water again, now feeling rejection. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Schlatt stares, your eyes glossy and cheeks flushing behind the strands of chestnut brown hair falling into your face. Your nipples are hard through your little turtleneck top and that skirt hugs your waist perfectly. He feels his dick twitching. This is not the physical response he wants to be having.

He knows he needs to back away, tell you how inappropriate this is and make you leave. But you’re so beautiful and seeing you cry because you need his touch this bad is bricking him up and stroking his ego. He’s been stressed out with finals coming up, so much work to grade, and no time to go out with someone. He barely gets any moments to relieve himself or is too tired to do it when he gets home, instead just getting uncontrollably hard in the middle of his lessons.

You’ve noticed that.

“Fuck, you’re so pent up and frustrated.” Schlatt walks towards the door and turns the lock on the knob. He pulls the string down on the blind, covering the small window on the door.

“Leave it open.” Your voice cracks a bit, tears drying up and your confidence filling you up again. He raises his eyebrows at your suggestion, tilting his head in disbelief. From tears straight back to teasing. Your heart speeds up as he walks towards you, slowing his steps the closer he gets, like he’s still mentally battling his urges with his morals. He finally reaches where your standing, waiting patiently, and stops right in front of you, tilting your chin up with his finger and pulling you in closer.

“You trying to get me fired, Toots?” A smile grows on your face. “What, you want people to see you teasing me? Is that what you’ve been thinking so much about?”

You grab his wrist and move his hand, molding it around your throat. “Just one thing I’ve been daydreaming about.”

He lets out a breath, squeezing the tips of his finger putting pressure into the sides of your neck. “You’ve thought about this too, huh?” You nod. He tightens his grip as you struggle for air, leaning down to your level. The smell of whiskey on his hot breath floods your nose.

“You gotta promise me you wouldn’t tell anyone about this.” There is definitely alcohol on his breath and you know it’s recent. Did he have it in his drawers? Was he drinking before you came in? “I’m just helping you fix your problem. That’s my job as your teacher, ya?”

“Yes, Sir,” you choke out.

“Fuck.” Schlatt removes his hand from around your neck, wrapping his arms around your body, cupping the small of your back and pulling you in, meeting his lips to yours. Electric waves run through your body at his touch, his facial hair rubbing against your face. He kisses you deeply, holding your body up to his, his lips moving gracefully with yours. Your lips part a bit and your body relaxes into his arms, letting him hold you up with his strength. He pulls away looking down at you. His mouth agape and pupils blown wide, like he wants to eat you. He moves his hands, gripping your little waist, savouring the sight of you. His grip feels almost too tight, making you realize how much stronger he is that you and how big his body is compared to yours.

Without warning, he lifts you up, an arm around your waist and a hand gripping your ass, gently setting you down on the edge of his desk.

“I thought you said your desk wasn’t an option,” you tease. He grabs your face pulling you back in for more affection. His lips feel so nice against yours, passionate and full. Your arms wrapping around his neck while he moves his hands under your thighs. He wraps your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up as you feel your underwear meet the hard on in his pants. You pull away from his lips, gasping for air.

“I’ll make an exception for my prettiest student.” Schlatt rubs you against him crotch in a nice, slow up and down motion. You feel your groin heating up and your breathing increase. His lips meet your neck lightly kissing and biting all over, keeping his grip on your thighs still controlling your movements against him. Your moans are sweet and dripping all over the desk, traveling slowly across the floor.

“Sir.” It slips out without a thought. You feel his dick twitch and grow in his pants, his movements slipping

“God, I told you not to call me that,” He breathes out, despite growing harder at your words. Your gaze meets his, your noses grazing each other, your arms holding onto his shoulders. Your tongue pokes out wetting your bottom lip and nibbling on it. Schlatt groans. The way you’re blushing and looking up at him with alluring eyes is getting him so hot.

He lays your body down on his desk, grabbing the graded papers and homework and stuffing them into the drawers.

“How’d I do on that last test?” Schlatt puts his hands back on your waist, pulling you down on his groin again. His face is beat red and glistening.

“Like you always do,” He runs his hand under your shirt, finger tips grazing against your skin, sending chills down your spine. “Perfectly.” He leans in, kissing your lips. He’s so good at that, no overflow of spit or overwhelming pressure that feels cartoonish. “It’s funny though,” Schlatt breathes out, pulling away again. You feel yourself getting antsy, craving a slow build up, but your body is used to the immediate gratification. “You’re my best student, Kid.” His hands are back on your waist and the heat in your body grows with his praise. “And yet, you’re here, on top of my desk.” He tucks some hair behind your ear, leaning into your ear. “Making me so hard.”

Tingles run down your head and neck, your arms tightening their grip around his neck, legs pulling him closer, silk clothed pussy rubbing against the hard on in his trousers. His fingers play with the small zipper on the side of your skirt while he pulls you back in for more kisses. Your blood is rushing like never before, you swear you can feel your hormones vibrating, you already feel so desperate for him. You’d do anything for him to just fill you up. Schlatt runs the tip of his tongue against your lips, opening you up, and playing a little inside your mouth, his fingers still messing with your zipper. You desperately moan, holding onto him for dear life. He pulls his mouth away.

“Your outfit is so cute.” Both of his hands move your little skirt up your waist more, exposing your underwear. “Wish this was your uniform so I could see you in it every day.” He glides his hand over the top of your thighs and back down the sides, stuffing each pointer finger into the sides of your panties and twisting. “Except without these.” He pulls them down slowly, a little trail of your wetness connecting your underwear and your hole. You felt the classroom air hit your dripping pussy.

Schlatt's eyes widen and his breath hitches seeing how wet you already are. How wet he’s got you. His dick is begging to be buried inside you already, wanting to know what you feel like; how ribbed you are, how tight you are, how much you’re going to stretch around him. But more than that, he needs a tast.

He turns your body towards the board and grabs his desk chair, wheeling it over for him to sit back down in, as you hold yourself up by your elbows to observe him. He adjusts his glasses and pulls the sleeves of his shirt up more. He looks so distinguished.

“Please, Schlatt.” Your whines are so cute to him, only making him want to tease you longer and withhold the thing you both really want.

“Calm down, Toots. I got you.” He runs the very tip of his thumb across your clit. Your brows furrow and your mouth falls open, letting out short breaths. He smirks, moving his thumb away. Your whines continue, your hips now squirming around desperately. He chuckles at you, grabbing your hips, and holding you down. “Tell me what’s been happening in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Schlatt–”

“You want more?” His tone drops, his expression is serious. “Tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about.”

You groan, trying to gather the many different thoughts you’ve been having about him.

“I think about your mouth on my pussy, holding my hips down, and rubbing your beard hair on me.” He moves a hand off your hip and lightly grazes his thumb over your clit again. You whimper at his touch. “I think about your fingers inside me.” He hums, moving his thumb lower, tracing it down like a snail across your vulva. “I think about sucking you off under your desk while you're working.” He moans, dipping the tip of his thumb into your wet opening. You open your legs, needing more. “I–I think about your cock pounding into me. While you're pulling my hair.” You groan. feeling him move his thumb in circles around your hole, teasing around the folds of your skin. “And calling me a pretty girl and a dirty little whore.” His eyes meet yours, softly staring up at you. He smiles, leaning his head against your leg, clearly pleased with how he’s got you wrapped around his fat finger. “Teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.”

Schlatt stops his movements, pulling his thumb away and holding both of your thighs. He leans down in his chair, moving his lips just above your vulva. With his eyes still on you, he spits on your pussy. You gasp, clit throbbing at his mess. He brings his mouth down to you, tracking his tongue up your vulva and flicking at your clit. You squirm at the contact.

He starts licking at your head, swirling his tongue around, mixing his spit and your wetness together. He’s getting into it, flicking his tongue against your clit, with his eyes low, and his hand squeezing your thighs. You feel yourself sweating, your blood rushing, your pussy throbbing, and an endless stream of noises escaping past your lips. You’re trying not to squirm, mostly because he keeps tightening his grip every time you do, but it feels too good, you just need to grab something to hold you steady. You notice his hair.

Your fingers slip through his thick curls, gently grabbing and tugging. His hair feels soft and a bit oily at the scale. You test your decision even more, guiding his head up and down. He slows his tongue movements letting you move him how you please. Just for a few strokes, letting you feel in control. You lean you head back, continuing to move him like you do your fingers when you’re alone touching yourself. He bites your clit.

“Schlatt!” You tug on his hair, trying to pull him off.

He moves off your pussy, standing up to turn your body to the side. You feel a sharp sting swiftly meeting your ass, punishing you for trying to take control. You whine out, pouting at the burn but enjoying his dominance.

He lays you back down on the desk, raising his eyebrows at you, letting the message sink in that you are not the one in control here. That he’s going to stay at the slow pace he’s set for you. That you wouldn’t get to cum until you’re crying for it, like you fantasized about. That you asked for this and you’re going to like it however he gives it to you.

He sits back down and goes back to stimulating your clit with his mouth. His pace is consistent, the pressure feels so good, you’re back to moaning and squirming again. He sticks his tongue out more while moving his face against your legs, tickling your thighs with his mutton chops. Your clit is throbbing, with no sign of release. His hands move up your body, slipping under your tight top and cupping your breasts. He groans into your pussy, slowing his tongue down and focusing on massaging your tits with his big, strong hands. They fit so perfectly, covering your nipple with his palm and his finger wrapping deliciously around your tits, engulfing them. The warmth of his hands feels so nice on your chest, but you wish he would continue flicking his tongue rapidly, why did he slow down?

“Mr. Schlatt?” You whimper out. He hums, still staring at your tits in his hands. “Please, c-can I have more?” He lifts his head off you, a cold draft hitting your wet skin, his hand fiddling with his belt buckle. The sun is kissing the hairs on his arms, as he drops his pants, exposing his navy blue boxers hugging his hard cock. He’s big, the head almost poking out of the leg hole.

Your drooling for it, your clit is aching and without a second thought you move your hand down your body, wanting to relieve the tension.

Schlatt grabs your wrist and pins it down above your head. “Don’t you even fucking try.” His face is right above yours, glistening with sweat. His curls frizzy and his glass falling off the bridge of his nose. “You said you wanted me to tease you, I’m doing that for you. Spoiled fucking brat.”

You had never experienced anyone this dominant or stuck with it so well. Keeping the character and the foreplay going, not just giving in when you do. He’s actually listened to you.

“You’re such a little slut.” He grabs your throat. “Bet you already want my cock buried inside you.” You let out a pathetic little whimper, squeezing your empty pussy. You feel his grip tighten on your airways. “Do you? Answer me.” You nod your head. Schlatt chuckles at your desperation, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Well, you’re not getting it until you show me how much of it you can take down your throat.”

He moves his hands under your thighs, pulling you off the desk and onto your feet. You feel lightheaded, trying to stabilize yourself against his body.

“Get on your knees.” And like an obedient puppy, you do as he says getting on the floor. You're inches away from his bulge and you can see every vein and curve of it through his skin tight underwear, it’s so surreal and intimidating. Not the first dick you’ve seen but definitely the thickest. “Don’t just stare, take it out, Sweetheart.” You grab his waistband and pull them down, his member popping out and tapping the side of your face. His cock is a nice, long length, not too long to make you worthy about it hurting, but so girthy it might be thicker than your dildos. His veins looked so sexy and his balls hang so perfectly.

You look up at Schlatt looking down at you, waiting for you to touch him. You stare into his eyes, while grabbing the base of his cock, your whole hand wrapping around it. You slowly start pumping and put his tip on your lips gently sucking and wetting his head. He groans out, tucking the strands of your hair behind your ears and placing his hands on your head. The taste of his precum on your tongue motivates you. You speed up a bit, bobbing your head up and down his thick length in sync with your hand while swirling your tongue around his head. Saliva builds up in your mouth, lubbing him up making it easier to stroke his throbbing dick. You pull off to get a breath and spit the excess drool on his shaft.

“Fuck,” Schlatt moans out, threading his finger through your hair and tugging. You let out a tiny squeal, putting him back in your mouth and getting back into your rhythm. The drool drips down your chin and onto your shirt, the wetness and mess making your exposed pussy even more curious. You resist the temptation to reach down and touch yourself while you're getting him off. You know even if you try to be sneaky he’d probably notice and make you wait longer. His dick twitches as you move your mouth and hand faster.

“Baby, look up at me.” You move your gaze up to him, he’s breathing heavily, eyes full of lust. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, I want your eyes on mine.” God, this man is so hot. Your calculus teacher is so fucking hot. You remove your hand, placing them both in your lap, and opening your mouth wider to prepare for him, not looking away for a second. He moans at your submission, pulling your head down on his length and back up, starting off slow and steady. You relax your throat preparing for his full member.

That’s when the sound of a door and footsteps outside the hall startles you both. Schlatt’s eyes grow wide, lookingaway from you and out the windows into the hallways.

“Get under the desk!” He whispers, moving his hands off your hair and pushing you under. You crawl on your knees under the desk, as he pulls his pants and boxers up to his knees and sits his bare ass in his chair. He pushes himself in until his crotch is hidden under his desk. You're both breathing heavily. Your body is cramped into the very back of his desk in between his legs, his cock still right in front of your face, rock hard.

You take this moment away from his vision to feel yourself. Your vulva is covered in your wetness, you take the bit of it and lick it off your finger. You don’t know who is there, but it’s making you hornier. All you want is this dick back inside you, so you put it back in your warm mouth. If someone saw, you didn't care, you kind of want the world to know you’re a willing slut for your teacher. You want them to assume you're trying to get a better grade or extra credit, just so you don’t have to do the work. But really you’re his star student, just trying to satisfy your insatiable arousal.

“Y/N.” You ignore his stern voice continuing to bob your head up and down his shaft moving your hands behind your back. “Y/N!” You don’t stop. You don’t listen. “God, you wanna get caught don’t you?” He grabs your hair and mercilessly moves you up and down his dick like a fleshlight. “You dirty whore, can’t even wait one minute.” You’re gagging and drooling all over him, trying to focus on breathing through your nose, his head hitting the back of your throat with no room for air. It’s feels like when he’s choking you, but you also feel so nice and full. Even the pain feels so good.

You don’t know where that person is or who thay are. If they're still outside the hallway or if they went downstairs, but it doesn't matter, because the sound of you choking and his low groans and the full feeling and taste of his dick is all you care about.

“Your history teacher just walked right past us.” You moan, still trying to handle him abusing your mouth. “Bet you would've loved for him to see you on your knees choking on my dick.” You feel lightheaded, his pace not letting up, your body low on air. But it’s all turning you on so much. His voice, his words, his hand pulling your hair, his throbbing cock filling your mouth. After what feels like forever, he pulls you off. You cough out all the wetness and take a big, deep breathe in, but before you can recover he’s pulling you up by your hair out from under the desk.

He stands up with you, pushing you forward and bending you over his desk, his hand smashing your face down into the desk, you feel his other hand pull up your skirt and push a finger inside your dripping hole.

“Unhhh!” You moan out, careless and loud, not caring whose around clearly. Your eyes flutter close. He moves his finger in and out of you, your hole gripping around it desperately. The sounds of your wetness and your moans and whimpers fill the classroom splashing outside the cracks of the door and windows into the hallway.

“Gotta fuck you soon, don’t want another one of your teachers to see.” He slides another finger in, curling them so nicely around your tight hole. “Even though I know you’d love that.” He continues massaging inside of you, feeling all the ridges and bumps in your pussy, exploring every corner of your insides, cherishing the little time he has with them.

“Shit, you’re gonna feel so tight. Already, so wet for me.” He pulls his fingers out and you feel the head of his cock sitting right at your entrance. He grabs a handful of your hair, turning your head to face. “You gonna take it like a good girl?” You look back at him and bite your lip.

“Yes, Daddy.” His face scrunches up in pleasure, not expecting that word to come out of your mouth. He pushes himself in, his thick, long cock stretching you and filling you up inch by inch, each one feels better than the last. You bury your face in your arm pushing your ass back into his member wanting to take all of him in, he feels so thick and warm. He’s filling you up just right.

His dick throbs inside you as he moves your hips. Your drunk on his cock, thinking about how many times you’ve played this exact interaction in your head. Your mind couldn’t even comprehend how good this would actually feel. Your moaning out at every thrust, loving the way his balls slap against your clit and his length stretches you out. You could stay like this forever, getting pounded into, your pussy gripping his cock so good, even when he pulls out almost all the way she’s not letting him fall out. Your tits are swinging with each thrust and you see a drop of sweat drip onto your classmates homework. God, this is even hotter than your mind came up with.

He pulls you out of your thoughts, moving your body. He stands you up, your back against his chest. He moves your left leg, setting it up on his desk, opening you up more. He holds you close to him, wrapping an arm around you to hold you steady against him while the other hand moves to your clit. He continues fucking into you, slowing his pace and letting you feel and admire every inch of his length, while rubbing circles into your clit.

“Only the prettiest and smartest girls get to cum on their teacher’s cock.”

The new position fills you in such a good way. Your hole opens up more for him yet he feels so much thicker, everything is tighter. You're loudly whining and moaning, feeling the waves of pleasure get higher and higher. You’re getting close. You know that feeling.

“Schlatt, Schlatt!” You cry out, leaning your head back on his shoulder. “I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” He keeps the pace of his cock the same but rubs your clit faster and faster.

“That’s it, cum for Daddy. Cum all over your teacher’s cock.” You take a deep breath, chancing the high, focusing on the sensations in your body and his hands all over you, not letting your orgasm get away. You feel the peak, your muscles squeezing and your body jolting against Schlatt. “That’s it, that’s it.” You let out a breath, and feel the tension leaving, your muscles unclenching, and body go limp. Your legs go numb, as Schlatt pulls you closer, preventing you from falling out of his grip. “Good girl, fuck. Let’s sit down.” Your ears start ringing and you feel yourself fully relax, letting the orgasm cleanse all the stress from your body and brain, as Schlatt sits in his chair and pulls your limp body down into his lap.

He puts your head on his shoulder and scoops you up like a baby, comforting you through the high, playing with your hair and gently rubbing your thigh.

You slowly return to your senses, noticing how quiet the room has gotten, you and your teacher snuggling up together half naked, both wondering what just happened and how things are going to feel after this.

“Hey, Kid?” Schlatt hums out.

“Yeah?” Your voice croaks out.

“You gotta get going, I really don’t want us getting in trouble.” You feel your heart sink, not wanting to leave. A weird part of you hoping he’d let you stay or even less likely, invite you over. God, you aren’t just sexually attracted to him.

You sigh, leaving the warmth of his body to put your panties back on and fix your appearence. You point to his semi-hard dick.

“Do you want me to finish yo–”

“No, no, go home. I got it.” You nod your head, walking toward the door, opening the blind, and slowly undoing the lock. You walk out into the hallway and after you close the door behind you, you take one last look back and see Mr. Schlatt pull out a bottle of whiskey and take a big swig.

[fatehbaz]

patience being tested. being forced by a bizarre unfortunate situation to adhere to university requirement technicality by taking this simple basic elementary "introduction to environmental history" class.

this class is from facilitators/program which do, like, "history of the American frontier" or "history of fishing and hunting" and still basically subscribe to that old-school twentieth-century idealization and celebration of characters like Teddy Roosevelt and reverence for a mythical arc-of-history-bent-towards-justice narrative of the often-clumsy but ultimately-benevolent US federal government and its mission to "save nature" through the miracle of "sustained yield," while heroic federal land management agencies and "heritage" institutions lead to way, staffed by exceptional individuals (appeals to nostalgia for the frontier and an imagined landscape of the American West; ego-stroking appeals to flattering self-image that center the environmentalist or academic). where they invoke, y'know, ideas like "ecology is important because don't you enjoy cross-country skiing in The Woods with your niece and nephew? don't you like hunting and fishing?" which makes it feel like a time capsule of appeals and discourses from the 1970s. and it invokes concept of "untouched wilderness" (while eliding scale of historical Indigenous environmental relationships and current ongoing colonial violence/extractivism). but just ever-so-slightly updated with a little bit of chic twenty-first-century flair like a superficial land acknowledgement or a reference to "labor histories" or "history from below," which is extra aggravating when the old ideologies/institutions are still in power but they're muddying the water and diluting the language/frameworks (it's been strange, watching words like "multispecies" and "Anthropocene" over the years slowly but surely show-up on the posters, fliers, course descriptions, by now even appearing adjacent to the agri-business and resource extraction feeder programs, like a recuperation or appropriation.) even from a humanities angle, it's still, they're talking at me like "You probably didn't know this, but environmental history is actually pretty entangled with political and social events. In fact, we can synthesize sources and glean environmental info from wacky places like workers' rolls in factories, ship's logs, and poetry from the era." and i'm nodding like YEP.

the first homework assignment is respond to this: "Define and describe 'the Anthropocene'. Do you think 'the Anthropocene' is a useful concept? Why or why not?" Respond in 300 words.

so for fun, right now in class, going to see how fast i can pull up discussion of Anthropocene-as-concept solely from my old posts on this microblogging site.

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ok, found some

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I think that the danger in any universal narrative or epoch or principle is exactly that it can itself become a colonizing force. [...] I’m suspicious of the Anthropocene as concept for the very reason that it subsumes so many peoples, nations, histories, geographies, political orders. For that reason, I think ideas like the Anthropocene can be a useful short-hand for a cluster of tangible things going on with the Earth at the moment, but we have to be very careful about how fluid and dynamic ideas become concretized into hegemonic principles in the hands of researchers, policymakers, and politicians. There’s so much diversity in histories and experiences and environmental realities even between relatively linked geographies here in Canada [...]. Imagine what happens when we try to do that on a global scale - and a lot of euro-western Anthropocene, climate change and resilience research risks doing that - eliding local specificities and appropriating knowledge to serve a broader euro-western narrative without attending to the inherent colonial and imperial realities of science and policy processes, or even attending to the ways that colonial capitalist expansion has created these environmental crises to begin with. While we, as a collective humanity, are struggling with the realities of the Anthropocene, it is dangerous to erase the specific histories, power-relations, political orders that created the crisis to begin with. So, I’m glad that a robust critique of the Anthropocene as a concept is emerging.

Text by: Words of Zoe Todd, as interviewed and transcribed by Caroline Picard. “The Future is Elastic (But it Depends): An Interview with Zoe Todd.” 23 August 2016.

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The Great Acceleration is the latest in a series of human-driven planetary changes that constitute what a rising chorus of scientists, social scientists, and humanists have labeled the Anthropocene - a new Age of Humans. [...] But what the Anthropocene label masks, and what the litany of graphs documenting the Great Acceleration hide, is a history of racial oppression and violence, along with wealth inequality, that has built and sustained engines of economic growth and consumption over the last four centuries. [...] The plantation, Sidney Mintz long ago observed, was a “synthesis of field and factory,” an agro-industrial system of enterprise [...]. Plantation legacies, along with accompanying strategies of survival and resistance, dwell in the racialized geographies of the United States’ and Brazil’s prison systems. They surface in the inequitable toxic burdens experienced by impoverished communities of color in places like Cancer Alley, an industrial corridor of petrochemical plants running along the Mississippi River from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, where cotton was once king. And they appear in patterns of foreign direct investment and debt servitude that structure many land deals in the Caribbean, Brazil, and sub-Saharan Africa [...]. [C]limatologists and global change scientists from the University of London, propose instead 1610 as a date for the golden spike of the Anthropocene. The date marked a detectable global dip in carbon dioxide concentrations, precipitated, they argue, by the death of nearly 50 million indigenous human inhabitants [...]. The degradation of soils in the tobacco and cotton-growing regions in the American South, or in the sugarcane growing fields of many Caribbean islands, for example, was a consequence of an economic and social system that inflicted violence upon the land and the people enslaved to work it. Such violent histories are not so readily evident in genealogies that date the Anthropocene’s emergence to the Neolithic Revolution 12,000 years ago, the onset of Europe’s industrial revolution circa 1800, or the Trinity nuclear test of 1945. Sugarcane plantations were already prevalent throughout the Mediterranean basin during the late middle ages. But it was during the early modern era, and specifically in the Caribbean, where the intersection of emerging proto-capitalist economic models based on migratory forced labor (first indentured servitude, and later slavery), intensive land usage, globalized commerce, and colonial regimes sustained on the basis of relentless racialized violence, gave rise to the transformative models of plantations that reshaped the lives and livelihoods of human and non-human beings on a planetary scale. [...] We might, following the lead of science studies scholar Donna Haraway and anthropologist Anna Tsing, more aptly designate this era the Plantationocene. [...] It is also an invitation to see, in the words of geographer Laura Pulido, “the Anthropocene as a racial process,” one that has and will continue to produce “racially uneven vulnerability and death." [...] And how have such material transformations sustained global flows of knowledge and capital that continue to reproduce the plantation in enduring ways?

Text by: Sophie Sapp Moore, Monique Allewaert, Pablo F. Gomez, and Gregg Mitman. "Plantation Legacies." Edge Effects. 22 January 2019. Updated 15 May 2021. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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Geologists and other scientists will fight over [the definition of the beginning start-date of the Anthropocene] in scientific language, seeking traces of carbon dioxide that index the worst offenses of European empire which rent and violated the flesh, bodies, and governance structures of Indigenous and other sovereign peoples in the name of gold, lumber, trade, land, and power. [...] The stories we tell about the origins of the Anthropocene implicate how we understand the relations we have with our surrounds. In other words, the naming of the Anthropocene epoch and its start date have implications not just for how we understand the world, but this understanding will have material consequences, consequences that affect body and land.

Text by: Heather Davis and Zoe Todd. On the Importance of a Date, or Decolonizing the Anthropocene. ACME An International Journal for Critical Geographies. December 2017. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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From Aime and Suzanne Cesaire, C. L. R. James, Claudia Jones, Eduoard Glissant, through Sylvia Wynter, Christina Sharpe, and so many others, critical anticolonial and race theory has been written from the specific histories that marked the Black Atlantic. [...] Glissant also reminds us, secondly, of how cunning the absorptive powers of [...] liberal capitalism are - how quickly specific relations are remade as relations-erasing universal abstractions. [...] This absorptive, relations-erasing universalism is especially apparent in some contemporary discourses of […] liberalism and climate collapse - what some call the Anthropocene - especially those that anchor the crisis in a general Human calamity which, as Sylvia Wynter has noted, is merely the name of an overdetermined and specific [White] European man. […] [T]he condition of creating this new common European world was the destruction of a multitude of existing black and brown worlds. The tsunami of colonialism was not seen as affecting humanity, but [...] these specific people. They were specific - what happened to them may have been necessary, regrettable, intentional, accidental - but it is always them. It is only when these ancestral histories became present for some, for those who had long benefitted from the dispossession [...], that suddenly the problem is all of us, as human catastrophe.

Text by: Elizabeth Povinelli. “The Ancestral Present of Oceanic Illusions: Connected and Differentiated in Late Toxic Liberalism.” e-flux Journal Issue #112. October 2020.

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The narrative arc [of White "liberal humanism"] [...] is often told as a kind of European coming-of-age story. […] The Anthropocene discourse follows the same coming-of-age [...] script, searching for a material origin story that would explain the newly identified trajectory of the Anthropos […]. Sylvia Wynter, W.E.B. DuBois, and Achille Mbembe all showed how that genealogy of [White subjecthood] was [...] articulated through sixteenth- through nineteenth-century [historiographies and discourses] in the context of colonialism, [...] as well as forming the material praxis of their rearrangement (through mining, ecological rearrangements and extractions, and forms of geologic displacements such as plantations, dams, fertilizers, crops, and introduction of “alien” animals). […] As Wynter (2000) commented, “The degradation of concrete humans, that was/is the price of empire, of the kind of [Eurocentric epistemology] that underlies it” (154).

Text by: Kathryn Yusoff. “The Inhumanities.” Annals of the American Association of Geographers, Volume 11, Issue 3. November 2020.

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As Yarimar Bonilla suggests in regard to post-Irma-and-Maria Puerto Rico, “vulnerability is not simply a product of natural conditions; it is a political state and a colonial condition.” Many in the Caribbean therefore speak about the coloniality of disaster, and the unnaturalness of these “natural” disasters [...]. Others describe this temporality by shifting [...] toward an idea of the Plantationocene [...]. As Moore and her colleagues write, “Plantation worlds, both past and present, offer a powerful reminder that environmental problems cannot be decoupled from histories of colonialism, capitalism, and racism that have made some human beings more vulnerable [...].” [W]e see that contemporary uneven socioecologies associated with the rise of the industrial world ["the Anthropocene"] are based [...] also on the racialized denial and foreshortening of life for the sacrificial majority of black, brown, and Indigenous people and their relegation to the “sacrifice zones” of extractive industry. [...] [A]ny appropriate response to the contemporary climate emergency must first appreciate its foundations in the past history of the violent, coercive, transatlantic system of plantation slavery; in the present global uneven development, antiblackness, and border regimes that shape human vulnerability [...] that continues to influence who has access to resources, safety, and preferable ecologies [...] and who will be relegated to the “plantation archipelagoes” (as Sylvia Wynter called them) [...].

Text by: Mimi Sheller. “Thinking Beyond Coloniality: Toward Radical Caribbean Futures.” Small Axe (2021), 25 (2 (65)), pages 169-170. Published 1 July 2021. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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Indigenous genocide and removal from land and enslavement are prerequisites for power becoming operationalized in premodernity [...]; it was/is a means to operationalize extraction (therefore race should be considered as foundational rather than as periphery to the production of those structures and of global space). [...] Wynter suggests that we […] consider 1452 as the beginning of the New World, as African slaves are put to work on the first plantations on the Portuguese island of Madeira, initiating the “sugar-slave” complex - a massive replantation of ecologies and forced relocation of people […]. Wynter argues that the invention of the figure of Man in 1492 as the Portuguese [and Spanish] travel to the Americas instigates at the same time “a refiguring of humanness” in the idea of race. [...] The natal moment of the 1800 Industrial Revolution, […] [apparently] locates Anthropocene origination in […] the "new" metabolisms of technology and matter enabled by the combination of fossil fuels, new engines, and the world as market. […] The racialization of epistemologies of life and nonlife is important to note here […]. While [this industrialization in the nineteenth century] […] undoubtedly transformed the atmosphere with […] coal, the creation of another kind of weather had already established its salient forms in the mine and on the plantation. Paying attention to the prehistory of capital and its bodily labor, both within coal cultures and on plantations that literally put “sugar in the bowl” (as Nina Simone sings) […]. The new modes of material accumulation and production in the Industrial Revolution are relational to and dependent on their preproductive forms in slavery […]. In 1833, Parliament finally abolished slavery in the British Caribbean, and the taxpayer payout of £20 million in “compensation” [paid by the government to slave owners for their lost "property"] built the material, geophysical (railways, mines, factories), and imperial infrastructures of Britain and its colonial enterprises and empire. [...] A significant proportion of funds were invested in the railway system connecting London and Birmingham (home of cotton production and […] manufacturing for plantations), Cambridge and Oxford, and Wales and the Midlands (for coal). Insurance companies flourished [...]. The slave-sugar-coal nexus both substantially enriched Britain and made it possible for it to transition into a colonial industrialized power […]. The slave trade […] fashioned the economic conditions (and institutions, such as the insurance and finance industries) for industrialization.

Text by: Kathryn Yusoff. "White Utopia/Black Inferno: Life on a Geologic Spike". e-flux Journal Issue #97. February 2019. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

[friday-answers]

they are gonna hate me for this but...

OSEMANVERSE MOOTS ‼️‼️ may i have your attention!!!!????

my lovely friend is a film student who created their final project inspired by radio silence, creating a film version of a universe city excerpt (well, multiple excerpts cut up into one) with some of their own words.

i think it is AMAZING with this awesome fucking TWIST at the end which is just so so cool

if you would be kind enough to check it out, it's here! on youtube ^_^

thank you :,] hope you enjoy it as much as i do

[xia0ming56]

Making sherlock n co art every few months bc im purposely waiting for episodes to pile up so i can binge them all. Call me a master of self control🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[ros3ybabe]

Spanish Media/Input Recommendations?

Can you guys comment me some good media/input recommendations for someone learning Mexican/Spain Spanish? I' talking about any and all that you guys find interesting, whether you learned Spanish on your own or it's your native language!

Books

Podcasts

Tv Shows

Movies

Youtube channels

Songs/Musical Artists

Favorite Spanish teachers/tutors on Italki

Literally anything!

Thank you guys <3

[uowdubai]

Educational podcasts are a valuable supplementary tool for both formal and informal learning settings.

Let us see how these podcasts have the potential to affect the educational possibilities of the present and the future. 

Visit: https://www.uowdubai.ac.ae/podcast

[essektheylyss]

Okay but the confirmation that the Granddaughter is supposed to have reached a state of tranquility and detachment but hasn't, and is instead aggressively and desperately shoving down all of their emotions without being able to excise them has sent them to the top of my faves list immediately.

I'm also really looking forward to seeing if the Fold wizard on deck survives whatever just happened, because I would love to find out if all Granddaughters have actually excised their emotions, or if in reality, they're supposed to be practicing tranquility but don't actually have a grasp on that until later, after their Realization. I would not be surprised to learn, especially after Artifice's whisper last episode, that this is something of an initiatory secret that isn't meant to be fully understood until later, once Realization has been had.

[captainrohandavid]

Educational Podcasts from UOWD

Are you eager to expand your knowledge and engage with educational content? Look no further! The University of Wollongong in Dubai (UOWD) offers a variety of insightful and enriching podcasts to support your learning journey.

Visit:https://www.uowdubai.ac.ae/podcast

[quisters]

Arthur must constantly be passing out with his frankly atrocious lack of blood at this point

[notyourtoday]

Caption on post -

American influencer River Wand condemns Israeli war crimes against journalists in the Gaza Strip, asserting that Israel targets these journalists due to their reporting on its acts of genocide on the Palestinian population.

By @pulseofpal on Instagram.

[notreyev]

hello tpp tumblr. has this happened to anyone else