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mytherapyisreading14 · 2 months ago

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Drunk Confessions

Summary: You got drunk during a night out with your best friend and accidentally send your Professor a photo of you in lingerie. Now you try to avoid him, which is not really working.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, dirty talk, dom!spencer, semi-public sex, hair pulling, thigh riding, spanking, fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, oral sex (kinda, he comes in her mouth)

Word Count: 4,6k

Author’s Note: My last posts got so many likes, I didn’t expect that at all, thank you sm!! <3

Your alarm goes off - 8:30am. You groan. Your head is pounding and the sun shining into your room is just way too bright. Your stomach turns and you close your eyes to escape the wave of nausea. You slowly sit up and search for your phone on the nightstand. It feels like your head is going to explode. You reach out and unlock the screen, turning your alarm off.

It's way too early. And you drunk way too much last night. It was a chaotic but nice yesterday, a night full of laughter, way too much alcohol and karaoke. Your best friend celebrated her birthday and you promised to go to your favorite bar with her. You have to smile when you think back to the night and start checking your messages. You see that she already texted you this morning to find out how you are doing.

How are you?

I have the worst headache after last night

It was fun though, wanna go again tonight?

Just kidding, I feel like I need a week to recover from this

You can’t help but laugh and answer her quickly. You are about to put your phone away to finally get ready when a new chat catches your eye. You freeze in shock. It’s your Professors name. The one you’ve been crushing on since you saw him for the very first time.

Back when you found out that you were getting a new professor, you didn't expect much, a lecture like any other with someone who was only concerned with reciting his material. But then he entered. He came through the door and for a moment it seemed as if time stood still. The room, which had just been immersed in the murmur of conversation, suddenly became silent.

He was tall - taller than you expected and his presence filled the room in a way that you couldn't put into words. He wore a simple but elegant suit that somehow effortlessly fit him perfectly. His hair was a little longer, curly and fell slightly over his forehead. And then he looked up. His big, brown eyes met yours and in a split second everything became clear to you. You immediately knew you wanted, needed, this man.

Now you stare at the chat in complete horror. He recently gave you his number for a project. That's how this whole texting thing could even happen. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Obviously you can't remember texting him. You were so drunk yesterday that you can't even remember how you got home.

You open the chat - and your heart stops for a moment. It wasn't just a message that you sent him. It was a photo. Of you, in lingerie. It’s one of your favorite sets, you got it a couple of weeks ago. "I wore this for you today, Professor. Do you like it?” You wrote in addition to the photo.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. You just stare at the screen, the picture of you that you should never, ever, ever have sent. And the worst part: He read it. But didn't reply. Confusion and panic spreads through you. You jump out of bed, your feet barely finding purchase on the floor, and your heart keeps racing. You try to think clearly, but your thoughts are a complete mess.

You reach for your phone again and frantically tap on the chat with your best friend, but you pause and call her instead. "Hello?" Her voice still sounds sleepy and hungover. “Oh my God, I need your help!" you gasp and immediately start telling her everything.

The line is silent, then you hear a short laugh. "Wait a minute... what? You did that?" You close your eyes and search for the right words. But before you can say anything, it hits you like a blow. You also have a lecture with him today.

"I’m not coming today," you tell her. “You can't just cancel!" she says immediately, and you hear her getting herself settled in her bed. Her voice sounds determined, but also worried. "You know how it is, our seminar today. We can't miss it. We said that celebrating wouldn't stop us," she says. "Celebrating isn't what would stop me either. Seeing him definitely is," you say and lean back with a groan.

You close your eyes and sink even deeper into the pillows. Your stomach clenches when you think about it. She’s right, you really have to go today. But the text, the picture that you sent him - what if he wants to talk to you about it? Or worse, he reports the whole thing?

"I can't just sit in front of him today and pretend that everything is normal. I sent him a picture of me in lingerie... I can't face him. It's just... it's just too much!" There is silence on the other end of the line for a moment. She still hasn't said anything, and you know she's thinking. Then you hear her take a deep breath.

“Okay, the thing with the picture, that's really... a little crazy. But hey, you can skip the lecture. Just disappear after the seminar and then hide in your apartment. Or you can go and hope that when you run into him, he'll do completely different things after you seeing this photo. I bet you looked hot, was it the new set you recently bought?” she asks and you can hear her grin even though you're on the phone.

Obviously she knows about your crush on your professor. You couldn’t stop talking about him after your first lecture and she took every opportunity to tease you about it. You look at your phone as if it were the only thing that could help you think clearly. Of course she's right. You have to go to your seminar. And you can really skip his lecture. Still, the idea that he might be thinking about it makes your heart beat faster and not just in excitement.

“You're right, I... okay, I'll come," You say after a short pause, but the thought of maybe running into him still makes you nervous. “You'll see, it won't be as bad as you think. You'll get through the seminar, it's only an hour. And then we'll be out and we can take our time for everything else. And you'll just avoid your favorite professor today," she continues to teases.

“Today? More like forever," you mutter and finally get up, even though the thought of getting out of bed still paralyzes you. “See you soon then. I'll shower and get dressed now, then I'll come. Let’s meet outside the building, okay?" you ask. "Sure!" she calls out happily. "See you soon and don’t forget to wear another fancy set for your professor today. Just in case you run into him,” she jokes.

After you hang up you put the phone on the pillow and stand there for a moment, your legs heavy, your head still about to explode. But then you take a deep breath. It'll be fine, you just have get through the seminar. With a sigh, you go into the bathroom and take painkillers first. Then you start getting ready.

You turn on the water and let it run hot. A short time later, you go into the shower. The hot steam envelops you and slowly your body feels a little alive again. The nausea subsides and the hangover becomes more bearable. After the shower, you get dressed in peace - black skirt, a comfy sweater and your favorite sneakers. You quickly walk through the apartment again to make sure you packed everything and when you leave the house, you somehow feel less like a wreck.

The smell of freshly served pasta is still in your nose as you say goodbye. You got lunch together after your seminar and it was nice to get a little break and talk about everything that happened. Now you are ready to leave but you still have to go to the library to get a book that you need for your upcoming assignment first.

“I still have to go to the library," you tell her, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “Are you coming with me?” you ask her. “I’m sorry, I have to pick up my sister now. But be careful, you don’t want to run into your favorite professor, or do you?” she teases again. “I’m not going to run into him. I’ll hurry up and leave immediately. I’ll call you later. See you tomorrow," you say and give her a quick wave before you set off.

The campus is full of students rushing through the halls, carrying their books around or sitting in groups and discussing. You slip into the library and head straight to the section where the book you need is. Unfortunately it’s at the top of the shelf and you realize that you probably won't be able to reach it. You jump up a few times, but the distance between you and the book just seems too big. You sigh. If only you were a little taller.

As you attempt the jump for the third time, you suddenly feel a presence building behind you. One that seems familiar. Your heart beats faster and a nervous tremor takes hold of you. You turn around and stare straight into Professor Reid's eyes. He is standing just inches away from you and you can hear the soft sound of his breathing.

The look he gives you is almost piercing - warm, but somehow also searching. He leans forward slightly without saying a word and effortlessly grabs the book with one hand. You avoid his gaze as he hands it to you. “Thank you," you murmur, trying to hide the slight nervous tremor in your voice. He nods and stands still for a moment.

"You weren't at my lecture today." You stare at the book in your hands and feel your stomach clench. This is not good. “I..." you take a deep breath. "I haven't been feeling so good. My head..." He waits, his eyes still fixed on you, and you get the feeling that he wants to hear more. You feel his gaze on you and when you finally raise your eyes to look into his eyes, there is a silent understanding, and for a moment you wonder if there’s more. “Sick, or...?" he asks calmly. You hesitate and bite your lip.

"I went out partying with my best friend yesterday, it was her birthday… we drank a little bit too much and... well, I'm not feeling so good today. That’s why I skipped." His expression remains neutral, but something in his gaze changes. You can hardly believe it, but it's almost as if he's interested. He frowns slightly. "I understand," he then says. "But it's not ideal to miss class, especially when important topics are involved."

You nod. “I know, Professor. I won’t happen again.” You just want to get out of this situation, and as you try to take a step back he stops you. "No, wait. I need to talk to you." You pause and turn back to him. "About what? I don’t really have the time -" you begin, pretending you don't have any idea what he wants to talk about, when he cuts you off.

"Doesn’t matter, it’s important. We'll sort it out in my office." His gaze is intense as he steps towards you. The thought of him asking you to come to his office makes your heart beat faster. The idea of being alone in a room with him is tempting. "Okay," you say quietly, unable to prevent a nervous tingling from spreading in your chest. You follow him, even though your legs feel like they're made of jelly.

He leads the way, his steps calm and determined, and you can barely keep your eyes from lingering on his back. As soon as you reach the door to his office, he opens it and lets you enter first. You step in, your heart now beating loudly in your ears. The moment he closes the door behind you, you realize that it is more than just a conversation about the seminar.

The look he is giving you now is not the look of a professor. It is the look of a man who wants more than just academic discussions at this moment. And the thought that you’re alone with him in this room inevitably leaves you nervous and intrigued at the same time.

As the door closes behind you, you’re left breathless for a moment. His office is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the crowded hallways outside. The room is sparsely decorated, except for the desk covered with stacks of paper and a few personal items. He is still standing at the table, his arms loosely folded in front of his chest and looks at you.

"Sit down," he says calmly, pointing to the chair on the opposite of the desk. You hesitate, then finally sit down, your heart pounding in your chest. The nervous energy inside you grows as you try to organize your thoughts. Before he can say anything else, you can’t hold it back any longer. The words come out of you hastily, almost in a rush, and you feel your body tense.

"The picture, it was a mistake! I didn't mean to... It wasn't meant for you. I was drunk, and it was stupid of me, really. I'm sorry." You look at the table, avoiding his gaze. But as you say the last words, you immediately notice how the atmosphere in the room changes. He remains silent for a moment, but then his body language shifts slightly - his gaze becomes more intense, the tension between you almost tangible.

"Hmm," he says after a pause, his voice deep and calm, "so the picture wasn't meant for me?" You flinch when you hear his question. What exactly does he want to hear? What does he want to know from you? You try to stay calm and answer hesitantly.

"It... it's none of your business." His expression hardens instantly. "It is," he says, and his voice sounds sharper, more determined now. "Because you sent it to me." Your heart beats faster as he continues. "I don't think it was an accident, even if you were drunk. You wanted to send it to me. And you did."

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You open your mouth, trying to say something, but you can't find a way to defend yourself. Instead, you just stay still, looking at your hands, which are resting nervously on your lap.

He laughs quietly, a mocking, almost challenging laugh. "So you're really sure it was an accident, huh?" He slowly leans forward, rests his hands on the table and looks straight into your eyes. The look in his eyes has changed, and something in his expression shows you that he is the one in control.

"Do you really think I haven't noticed how you look at me in class? How you keep watching my hands? How you press your thighs together when I approach you?" His words hit you and you freeze for a moment. Your cheeks burn hot, you feel your heart pounding uncontrollably, but you keep quiet. Everything inside you screams to defend yourself, but you stay silent because you know he’s right.

"I noticed from the beginning, angel," he continues, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can’t believe he just called you that. It turns you on immensely. "I know you didn't just do it because of the party and the alcohol. You also sent it to me because you wanted to." He leans further forward, his presence overwhelming, and you can't help but feel small even as you try to assert yourself.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words stick in your throat. What could you say? That he's wrong? That would be a lie. “You sent it to me," he repeats, his voice now almost like a command. "Because you wanted to show me. And I don't think it was an accident. You were drunk, yes, but you wanted me to see you like this."

Your body is paralyzed. It feels like the room has suddenly become smaller. You can hardly breathe. His words and his look have completely captured you in that moment. “I... uh," you begin, but the thought that he is in control, that he sees you like this at this moment, leaves you speechless and you’re unable form a proper sentence.

He remains silent, only his eyes continue to focus on you. "You have to understand that you can't just play with me like that." His gaze becomes more intense, and for a moment it seems as if he wants to say more but then he slowly stands up, walks around the table and stops right in front of you.

"I'll show you something," he says in a calm but unmistakable voice. "And you will understand why it wasn't just an accident." Your heart beats faster. His hand reaches for your chin, lifting it up and tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches and you lean closer, craving his touch. “Get up and lock the door for me,” he says and pulls his hand away slowly.

You do as your told immediately and when you turn around, he is sitting on his chair with his legs spread. He looks so hot and you desperately clench your thighs together to relief the pressure between your legs. “Good girl. Come here,” he says and pats his thigh. You shiver in excitement and when he notices a grin spreads across his face.

You go over to him and when you stand in front of him, he pulls you down into his lap. He leans forward to whisper into your ear “That’s what you wanted, right? To be my good girl. That’s why you send me that picture. You wanted to end up here,” he says and places his hands on your hips. You press yourself closer against him and inhale his scent, he smells like cinnamon, peppermint and aftershave, it’s addictive.

However, you get interrupt by his hand reaching into your hair to pull your head back. You gasp in surprise and he leans closer to you, looking deep into your eyes again. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer,” he says and you can feel yourself getting even wetter. “Yes, that’s true. I - I always wanted that,” you manage to say and he releases your hair, satisfied with your response.

Then he leans forward and you finally feel his lips against yours. It’s even better than you always imagined and you start to grind against his leg, desperate to release the friction between your legs. But Spencer quickly stops you. “Did I allow you to move?” he asks and you shake your head.

He sighs in disappointment but before he can say anything you quickly answer him. “No, you didn’t,” you say and his grip on your hips looses a little. “That’s right. I didn’t. And you’re not allowed to move until I tell you to. You’re going to listen to me and do exactly what your told, do you understand?” he asks. “I understand.”

“See, it’s not that hard. You listen to me, you behave and you’ll get your reward. Now, do you want to ride my thigh?” he asks, his hand slowly sliding behind your back to your ass, squeezing it. “Yes, please. Can I?” you ask and he leans forward to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth. When he pulls back you can see his eyes sparkling with lust. “So polite, I like that. Yes, you can,” he says and you finally go back to moving against his thigh.

It feels good, so good and when Spencer starts to slide one hand under your shirt to grab your breasts you press closer against him. You can feel that you soaked your underwear trough and wearing only a skirt, you can already see a small wet stain on his pants. His gaze follows yours and he chuckles. “Someone’s needy,” he says and you nod, leaning against his chest, grinding down more against him.

“Spen - Spencer, I’m going to come,” you whimper but he pulls you back by your hair again. “It’s Sir for you, angel,” he says and you correct yourself immediately. “Please Sir, can I come on your thigh now?” you breath out and he grabs your hips again, stopping you.

“No, not yet,” he simply says and you whine when he stands up and you lose contact. “But I thought - “ you start but he doesn’t let you finish. He turns you around and pushes you down onto his desk. “Doesn’t matter what you thought. I decided I’m not letting you come yet,” he says and flips over your skirt to expose your underwear to him.

“I see, another pair then the ones you wore yesterday. I’ve got to admit, I prefer the other ones, but you look pretty anyway, angel,” he says, sliding his hands over your thighs and your ass. “Last night when you send me that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits and you can feel your whole body reacting to his words.

A wave of confidence flashes through you. “Did I keep you up last night, Sir? Did you have to stroke your cock while you looked at my picture? Thinking about all the ways you want to fuck me?” you ask him and turn your head slightly back to look at him with a smirk on your face. His eyes darken and he tightens his grip.

“Oh you have no idea, angel. I’m going to show you exactly what I was thinking about last night,” And suddenly you feel a harsh smack on your ass. He just spanked you. And you liked it. Your breath hitches and you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. You don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.

His hand strokes the spot he just hit before going further down to pull at your panties. He takes them off and stuffs them into his pocket. You are convinced you’re not going to get them back. Then you feel his long, slender fingers sliding between your legs before he presses onto your clit. You gasp in surprise and try to press against him but his grip on your hips is firm, holding you still.

Then he pushes two fingers inside you. “So fucking wet.” His eyes wander over your body down to your legs hungrily, appreciating every curve and every spot. “I’ve never seen such a pretty pussy. And it’s all mine now. You’re all mine now,” he says. The way his fingers move and the way he stares at you intensely feels just way too good.

When his thumb goes back to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles, you can feel how your orgasm builds up inside of you and you can no longer hold back your moans. “Spencer - Sir, feels so good. Please,… I need more,” You clench around his fingers and he quickly puts a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet, angel. As much as I would love to hear all these lovely sounds you make, I don’t want to get interrupted. Not now, when I finally have you, after all this time.”

His fingers curl inside you and keep hitting your g -spot. You clench around them, he notices and chuckles. “Can I - please,” you stutter. “Yes angel,” he says, already knowing what you’re asking for and you come around his fingers. You never had such an intense orgasm from foreplay before, but you don’t mind. It’s even better than you always imagined.

He wants to give you a moment to recover but you want more. You somehow manage to turn around, even though your legs feel like they are going to give in any second and push yourself up on his desk. He looks surprised and opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt him by pulling him closer by his tie.

You wrap your hands around his neck and rank your fingers through his soft, brown hair before kissing him. You moan into his mouth and he groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “Thank you, Sir. That was amazing,” you say with a smirk on your face when you pull back. “Now is the time to lose your pants and relax, I want to return the favor.”

“As much as I want to see you down on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, we don’t have much time left. Office hour starts in less than 30 minutes. And I need to fuck you. So drop it and spread your legs for me. Now,” he demands and you obliged, sitting further back on his desk with your legs spread.

He takes a step back and starts to unzip his dress pants. When he takes out his cock your eyes widen. He is even bigger than you expected. “Are you on the pill?” he asks while he starts to pump his cock. “I am,” you say. “Good. I want to fuck your pussy and then, since you suggested sucking me off, come inside your mouth. I want you to taste me. You don’t swallow until I say so. Do you understand?” he asks, sliding his cock through your folds to tease you. “Yes Sir, I understand,” you whimper and he wastes no time and pushes inside you.

His first thrust already make your eyes roll back and you feel like you’re going to die from the intense pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waits and your hands are on his back, pressing him even more against your body. Everytime a whimper or a moan escapes your mouth his thrust become deeper, rougher and faster. You can feel him throb inside you and he keeps hitting your g- spot over and over again.

One of his hand is sneaking through your breast, squeezing it and toying with your nipple. You graze his back with your fingernails and make sure to leave marks on him. Your mind goes blank and you lose yourself in the pleasure completely. After a few more thrust you can feel the orgasm building up inside of you. “Close,” you breath out and he nods. “Me too. You can come on my cock now.”

You let go and your orgasm is even more intense than you expected. You moan his name so loud that he quickly covers your mouth with his hand again. He picks up his speed and a few thrusts later he pulls out of you to shove his cock into your mouth. You can feel his cum inside your mouth and taste him, just like he told you to. He watches you closely the whole time while he recovers from his own orgasm.

“Now swallow,” he says and you do. Then he pulls you forward with both of his hands to kiss you. The kiss is different this time, more gentle and caring, not just full of lust. When he pulls back you both smile. “I guess sending you this picture was not bad at all. And I was so worried.” He laughs. “I’m glad you send it, angel. Now I finally have you all to myself. It's a shame I couldn't take more time for you right now. There's a lot more I'd like to do with you,” he says with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t you show me after your office hours, Sir?” you say with a smirk on your face. “Make sure to be here on time, angel.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #professor reid #professor x student

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darealsaltysam · 5 months ago

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hey tumblr. you should read my xmen fic. the second chapter just came out. this image tells you all you need to know about the plot. thanks <3

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littlcdarlin · 1 month ago

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Event Horizon

summary: When you start university to do your master’s in physics, you are more than surprised to meet your professor: Joel Miller, an old friend of your parents' who moved away years ago. word–count: 15k warnings: professor kink, power imbalance due to Joel being reader's professor, illegal relationship (overage & consenting), dbf!Joel, big fat age gap (unspecified but written with early 20s & mid 50s in mind), unprotected piv, just overall daddy issues (no use of the word daddy)

note: Okay, time to tell you I am a big nerd and studied physics in uni. Truth is, I quit to pursue a career in the arts, so my knowledge of masters level physics is...a little rusty. Please be lenient with me if I messed anything up. Also, I know most people hate physics, but I promise Joel makes it hot. Warning: explanation of the Dirac equation as foreplay. Also, I'm European and have no fucking clue how the American education system works but I don't care enough to do research. Enjoy <3333

event horizon noun ASTRONOMY a notional boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape. a point of no return.

Uni felt different at eighteen, when everything was about moving out, drinking beer at frat parties, and kissing boys who didn’t grow up in the same town you did. It was an exciting time, the degree itself fading into the background of all sorts of new experiences, but now that you’re doing your masters, you plan on focusing on your your grades more than on partying.

You enrolled in a new university, farther away from home, with a better physics program, and although you’ve grown up considerably, you still feel that tingle of anxiety you did when you first walked to your dorm, fresh out of high school. This time you won’t have to share with another student, spending your saved money on a bit of privacy that is a single dorm room, but still, you wonder if you’ll make friends here, or if you’ll spend your night hauled up alone, watching trash TV and crying because you’re lonely.

The room is small, blank, but functional with a bathroom you share with another student and a small kitchenette, and immediately you dream of all the ways you could decorate it. You didn’t bring much, just a big suitcase and a few boxes your Dad dropped off earlier. You feel slightly guilty for leaving your parents behind, but the relief outweighs the guilt – you won’t have to come home every Sunday for dinner, visits will be scarce. You love you parents, but the distance is much needed.

You get to unpacking your clothes, reveling in the fact that you can listen to music without headphones in your very own space. You could do it in your underwear, or naked, you could sing and dance along, and nobody would be bothered by it. It’s going to be a tough two years, the program you chose more than challenging, but a childish sort of giddiness fills you – no roommate to be considerate of, no parents to visit and take care of every week. This time in your life is about you, and only you – your career, but also your well-being. You promise yourself to do what makes you happy, instead of looking out for everyone else all of the time, and you’ll start by ordering Thai food and watching the trashiest movie with the hottest actors you can find on the little flatscreen you brought with you.

***

Your first lecture is Computational Physics – the one you’re looking forward to the least. The reason you decided to study physics at all was the predictable logic behind each problem, but the more you studied, the more complex the problems got, until they were impossible to solve analytically. Now you get to solve fluid dynamic equations and simulate quantum systems on a Monday morning instead of having a peaceful cup of coffee and taking a walk around campus.

The lecture hall is big, and you pick a seat that is neither too far away to be able to read the professor’s notes, nor close enough to immediately be pinned as an over-eager teacher’s pet. In the end, you plop down next to a girl who’s sitting alone, something about her shaved head and countless earrings making you think she wouldn’t make fun of you even if you didn’t understand a single thing all lecture.

"Okay if I sit here?", you ask somewhat timidly, trying hard not to sound too much like an eleven year old Ron Weasley boarding the train to Hogwarts.

"Please," the girl answers, "I don’t know anybody here."

"Did you move here, too?"

"Yeah, I’m from New York."

"You look it," you say with a smile, eyes drifting over her clothes and jewelry.

"Thanks…I guess?", she answers, her grin revealing a charming gap between her front teeth. "I’m Alva."

You introduce yourself, thankful to have found someone you can stick to already. Throughout the lecture you find out that apart from being much cooler than everyone else in the room, Alva has a biting sense of humor, and a near endless knowledge of computational physics. You make a mental note to ask her to study together, her explanations much easier to understand than the professor’s.

The two of you spend your lunch break together, and you tell her a little bit about yourself, but way too soon it’s time to go already – you have Advanced Quantum Mechanics in a different lecture hall. This you find way more interesting, basic quantum mechanics was one of your favorite lectures during your bachelor’s degree. As Alva and you sit down, you find yourself hoping you’ll be able to help her out this time, or you’d feel like a leech for making her help you with Computational. She doesn’t seem bothered, though, and keeps babbling happily about a band she recently discovered.

"– Britpop, but they only put out two albums. I think they were like a student band or something? They’re wildly underrated, I’ll send you a song, their debut is called The Sun Is Often Out."

Your thoughts start to wander off a little, eyes drifting over the old-fashioned chalkboards, when the door at the front of the lecture hall opens, and a tall man walks in – a man you recognize.

"Holy shit," you whisper, interrupting Alva’s rant about the Longpigs, and she turns her head to look at what you’re staring at.

"Damn," she says with a grin, "if I wasn’t gay, I’d want a piece of that."

"No," you snort, "I know him. He’s my Dad’s friend."

Alva opens her mouth to say something, but at that moment, Joel Miller steps forward, checking to see if the microphone is working, and introduces himself to the hundreds of students in front of him. His voice is deep, and as warm as you remember it, but that’s where the accuracy of your memories ends – your childish brain failed to register the tanned forearms and rolled up sleeves, the carelessly styled curls, the perfect side-profile. He’s got grey streaks in his hair now, which should send you into a crisis about time passing and your own little life being finite, but instead it makes your stomach swirl with something dangerous. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller, who organized backyard barbecues with your father and bought your favorite vegan sausages when your Dad rolled his eyes at you, who made strawberry lemonade instead of lemon, because he knew you preferred it, who helped you with your physics homework when you were graduating high school and didn’t rat you out when he caught you smoking at seventeen – he’s handsome.

There’s still a familiarity about him, the way he moves and talks, although it’s unsettling to see him in such a different environment. You’re used to band-tee-Joel, beer bottle and tongs in his hands, a breezy smile on his face. He looks different here, in a white button-down, with a stern expression on his face, as he’s reading the names on his list to check attendance. When he calls Alva’s name and she raises her hand, his eyes flicker upwards, but he doesn’t look at you. Still, your stomach lurches. If you listen carefully, you can detect that southern twang in his voice you’re sure most people would miss, and it fills you with satisfaction to know you’re the one who knows him best in this room – you’re sure half the lecture hall must see how attractive he is.

When he reads out your name, there’s a surprised lilt to his tone, and your heart threatens to skip a beat.

"Here."

Your eyes meet, and although his expression doesn’t change, he holds your eyecontact for a second too long. Alva nudges your side and grins.

Your plans about outshining Alva and returning the favor of helping with a lecture are quickly buried by Joel Miller’s beautiful hands – thick fingers holding a piece of chalk almost tenderly, twirling it around when he isn’t writing on the chalkboard. You vaguely register him introducing the Dirac equation, but as interesting as you would normally find it, your thoughts are stuck between memories of barbecues and the realization that you will have to call the man who taught you to drive Professor Miller.

If Alva notices your wandering mind, she doesn’t comment on it, which you’re thankful for. You do notice her throwing you a couple of knowing glances, as you copy down what Joel is writing down, mixing up gamma, delta, and the Dirac spinor.

"Alright, so you all know how Schrödinger’s equation works great for quantum mechanics, but it doesn’t play nicely with Einstein’s relativity, right? That’s a problem because electrons move fast, sometimes close to the speed of light, so we need an equation that respects both quantum mechanics and special relativity. That’s where Dirac steps in."

He’s still got that warm way of explaining things your Dad never managed when you needed help in high school, like he enjoys clearing things up for people. He’s a born teacher, patient when you panicked in the car because you confused the clutch and the break, persistent when you wanted to throw your physics book against a wall. Look, kid, think of it this way: Push harder, it moves faster. Make it heavier, it’s harder to move. If you apply a force F to an object with mass m, it will accelerate a. That’s why your Dad’s car takes longer to stop than your bike. Even now, he manages to make a far more complex equation than Newton’s second law tangible.

"Dirac's equation is like the grown-up version of Schrödinger’s equation. It explains how particles with spin-half, like electrons, behave when they move at relativistic speeds. The gamma mu matrices make sure the equation works in four-dimensional spacetime, meaning three space dimensions plus time. The psi is a spinor, which is just a fancy way of saying that an electron isn’t just a simple wave function, it actually has spin built into its nature. Now, can anyone think of a situation where we would need to use this equation instead of the regular Schrödinger equation?"

Nobody raises their hand, most people still busy with writing down Joel’s complicated notes, and as if on cue, his eyes are on yours when you look up from your notebook. He raises an eyebrow, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch almost imperceptibly. Then, he calls your last name, a formal Miss dripping off his tongue as if he hasn’t called you kiddo for most of your life. It’s almost like he’s making a joke only the two of you are able to understand, and the thought thrills you to your bone. Two can play this game – you smile back.

"Sure, Professor Miller. You’d use it for studying high-energy particles, like electrons in particle accelerators, because it accounts for relativistic speeds. It’s also needed for situations where particles are created or destroyed, which Schrödinger’s equation doesn’t cover."

Again, his eyes linger on yours, and his slightly amused smile turns into a more genuine one at your answer. You let out a relieved sigh.

"Exactly," Joel answers, his attention on the rest of the class again, "Someone payed attention during Basic Quantum Mechanics. Now, here’s where it gets wild. When Dirac wrote this down, he realized it naturally predicts antiparticles, meaning for every electron, there should be a mirror-image particle with opposite charge, which we now call the positron. That was a huge deal because it wasn’t something people were expecting, it just fell out of the math."

For the rest of the class, Joel doesn’t continue that little game between the two of you, but whenever he asks a question, his gaze flickers over you, and your stomach gives an embarrassing little jump. Alva grins whenever this happens, but for most of the class she’s busy following Joel’s explanations.

"I want you to read up on today’s lecture," Joel says at the end of the lecture, and writes down a few page numbers on the chalkboard, "and solve the problems I mentioned earlier. Attendance isn’t mandatory, we’re all adults here, but I urge you to come if you’re interested in graduating in the next three years. Trust me, it’s easier to just do the work here than in your dorms. Now, enjoy the weather, see you Monday."

You and Alva pack up your things, and before she can ask you which class you have next, you pick up your backpack.

"I’m gonna say hi to him," you tell her, nodding in Joel’s direction, "my Dad and him go way back."

"Sure," Alva says, a cheeky smile on her face, "it’d be rude not to."

"Meet you outside?"

"I’ll be at the vending machine. Go get him," she jokes, and you snort.

Joel is packing up his course materials when you make your way down the steps and to his desk, but he looks up when he hears you coming towards him, and immediately his face splits into a smile. If you were anywhere else and ten years younger, he’d probably ruffle your hair.

"Good lecture," you say, "Dad didn’t tell me you’re teaching again."

Joel puts his piece of chalk into a tin box and nods.

"I don’t think he knows. You know how it is, we never get around to callin’ and I haven’t been home in a while."

So this is a new development, perhaps even Joel’s first semester back at university, too.

"What about the contracting? Don’t you miss the…pipes?"

He chuckles at your lack in basic contracting knowledge, his eyes not moving from yours.

"Ah, that was always Tommy, he just needed a little help. Company’s doin’ well now, though, so he’ll manage without me."

You think you remember Tommy – a man good-naturedly chasing you and the rest of the giggling neighborhood kids with a harden hose – but the memory is too vague to be sure it’s really him.

"You’ve grown up," Joel says, almost accusingly, and you shrug and smile. "Doin’ your master’s already. How come you’re familiar with Dirac?"

His accent is much thicker now that it’s only the two of you, and you notice a hint of pride when he asks about your correct answer to his question during the lecture. The satisfied feeling it gives you is still the same as when he high-fived you after your drivers test, or when he patted your back after you solved a problem for school without his help.

"Summer reading," you admit, trying hard not to sound like a nerd, "Basic Quantum Mechanics was my favorite lecture as an undergrad."

Joel smiles at you, and puts his notes into his leather bag. He slings it across his shoulder, and nods towards the door.

"How would you like to grab a coffee and tell me all about what’s been goin’ on with you and your old man?"

Your eyes flicker briefly over his hand, gripping the strap of his bag, and you raise an eyebrow.

"What’s the policy for staff having coffee with their students, Professor?"

Joel holds your gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I’m actually not sure, Miss, I’ve never had to check before."

He’s playing along, and it feels dangerously blurry – yes, he’s your Dad’s old friend, your childhood neighbor, but it feels like more than just joking around.

"Does that mean I’m your first, then?", you ask, voice sweet and close to flirting now. The smile freezes on Joel’s face, and his gaze becomes almost calculating.

"Am I yours?" he asks you softly, and the double-meaning behind his question isn’t lost on you. You feel a thrilling pang in your stomach – Joel Miller is flirting with you.

***

You do end up getting coffee after you tell Alva you’ll meet her later, Joel reassuring you it won’t get him into trouble, and you’re fascinated to see he still drinks it black. What fascinates you even more is that you remember how he takes his coffee, and you wonder why your brain filed this fact away as important, not to be forgotten.

"So, when did you graduate? Sorry I missed it."

There’s honest regret in his voice, which surprises you. Joel was always a warm person, but you figured he cared for you as much as he would have for any kid living across the street.

"Last June," you tell him, dropping a sugar cube into your cappuccino. "I spent the summer working, and now I’m here."

"How d’you like it so far?"

You give a nervous chuckle, torn between the honest truth and pleasant small talk. You opt for the former – this is Joel, after all, not some stranger.

"To be honest with you, I oscillate between enjoying my freedom away from Mom and Dad, and being scared shitless by starting over somewhere new," you admit, looking at your coffee. You haven’t told people about your fear, and it feels good to finally admit it – the grip your parents have had on you makes your newfound freedom almost uncomfortable.

"What d’you mean, startin’ over?", Joel asks, his voice strikingly gentle. You sigh, and shrug.

"I know the distance is good for me, but it was comfortable, just doing what my parents expected of me. I had good grades, nice friends, and just the right amount of drunken nights for them not to worry about my social life too much," you explain, "and now it’s like…there’s so much room to be someone else, cause they won’t see it anyway."

You look up, embarrassed to have spilt your guts like this, but Joel looks thoughtful, his thumb moving along the handle of his coffee cup.

"Sorry," you mutter, "I know they’re your friends, but they can be…"

"Overbearing?"

You smile at him gratefully and he smiles back.

"Look, I know your parents pretty well. They love you to bits, but as an adult I imagine it must be stiflin’.“

"Yeah," you sigh, grateful for his understanding, "I feel like I don’t know who I am when I’m not…their kid."

Joel nods, and sips his coffee, apparently pondering what you said.

"I promised myself I would only do what makes me happy while I’m here," you tell him sheepishly, as if it’s a secret, and Joel laughs.

"Well, I’m not expectin’ you to hand in any homework, then."

You grin, too, and shake your head. It’s surreal, Joel being your professor, and you wearing your heart on your sleeve for him.

"Don’t worry, Professor Miller, I’m not dropping your class."

"You’d better not, it’d really hurt my feelings," Joel says, eyes trained on yours. Again, that blurriness set in motion by the change of his role in your life: neighbor to professor to – what?

"What about you, though? This your first semester here?"

"Second," he tells you, "but I still don’t feel at home. Once a Texan, always a Texan, I guess."

You cock your head and watch him drain the last of his coffee, the cup tiny in his hands.

"What?" he asks you, curiosity evident in his voice.

"You look so different," you say, and Joel scoffs.

"Well, that’s real nice. Know I’m not thirty anymore, but geez–"

"No," you say with a grin, "it’s not that. I don’t know, I’ve just never seen you teach before. Or dressed this nice – I remember you mowing the lawn in a Fleetwood Mac shirt, not checking attendance in a button down."

Joel’s cheeks go slightly pink, and he scoffs again.

"Well, I can’t show up here in a band tee, can I? Gotta dress the part," he mutters.

"I get it. You suit it," you tell him, if only to see that blush appear on his face again. He looks up at you, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds, then he shakes his head.

"What were the odds of us meetin’ like this, huh? I gotta call your father and tell him."

Something about that bothers you, you’d prefer for your parents not to know. You like sitting here with Joel, reminiscing the old times, without anybody getting a peek in.

"Or not," he says gently, seeing the expression on your face.

"Sorry," you say, "course you can tell him."

"You apologize a lot," he tells you, and you fight the urge to say sorry once again. "It’s okay, I’m not tellin’ anyone, kid. ’S just you n me."

That pang in your stomach again, and you nod.

"Alright," you answer, "just us."

You get a refill for the two of you, and a blueberry muffin to split, which feels strangely intimate, but Joel pats his stomach and jokes about keeping an eye on his figure, so you grin, and ask the barista to cut it in half. Joel asks you about your friends, and you tell him about Alva.

"Oh yes," he says and swallows a bite of the muffin, "that punky lookin’ kid who sits next to you?"

"Yeah, she’s nice. Haven’t really met anyone else."

"Geez, I’m not keepin’ you from findin’ frat boys to hook up with, am I?"

You laugh, the idea of sitting here with a twenty-something year old kid named Cole or Josh instead of him so absurd, you can’t help it.

"No," you tell him, "I’m honestly enjoying the fact that I don’t have to have someone else in my dorm anymore."

"Well, that’s a relief to hear," Joel says, "they’re all dipshits."

You remember him telling you something similar about the boys in high school, and it makes you smile. He’s still got that protective streak, then.

"To tell you the truth, I’m glad you’re here," you say quietly, "if I’m not making any friends, I can come crying to you."

Joel watches you for a couple of seconds, not laughing as you intended, but taking your words seriously.

"Course you’ll make friends. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll have forgotten all about physics cause you’ll be skippin’ classes left and right to hang out with people."

You don’t tell him, but you think it’s very unlikely you’ll skip any of his classes. Still, you appreciate his words and how confident he seems to be in your ability to open up to people.

"Well, will you give me the answers to your exams if I skip your class?"

"No way," he says with a cheeky smile, the crinkles around his eyes prominent. "I don’t do preferential treatment. You wanna split another blueberry muffin?"

You grin.

"Thought you were watching your waistline."

"I am, that’s why I’m only eating halves."

***

Your afternoon with Joel leaves you on a high for the rest of the day, feeling much less lonely now that you’ve had a conversation beyond the usual so how many siblings do you have? and where did you do your undergrad?

You start spending your lunch breaks with Alva and some friends she made in another lecture, all of whom are very nice. In the evenings you all go to see a movie or have dinner together in any of your dorm rooms, and although you walk around campus holding out one eye for Joel, you don’t see him for the rest of the week. There is always a nudge of disappointment in your stomach, when you glance in the direction of his office, and the door is closed, but you’re so busy, you don’t dwell on it too much. The days pass in a blur of new lectures, swapping music with Alva, and evenings spent as a group of six, and suddenly it’s Sunday again. You aren’t too sad the weekend is already over, and you know exactly why you’re looking forward to Monday, but you don’t allow yourself to think about Joel any more than you can help.

In the afternoon, while you’re doing Joel’s assignment for the next class, your mother calls, and you answer the phone with a mixture of feelings.

Hi, my darling, how are you doing?

"Hi, Mom. I’m good, just doing my work for tomorrow. How are you?"

Good, good. How was your first week? Did you meet anyone nice?

Hah, if she only knew. It feels deceptive, not telling her about Joel, but you like that for now, he’s just yours.

"Yes, this girl called Alva. We and some guys hang out a lot, there’s a cinema near by, but the lectures are pretty hard, so we only have the evenings off."

Well, I’m glad you found some nice people! Dad says hi, he’s making dinner. Anyway, baby, we miss you terribly. Do you know when you’ll be coming home?

"I just got here, Mom."

You sigh so quietly your mother can’t hear it, guilt already nagging at your heart. Sunday is the day you would usually be coming home for dinner, and you know it’s no coincidence your parents called you now.

Of course, you’re right. It’s just not easy for your Dad and me, you know? You’ve never been this far from home, and you’re our baby.

Yeah, you think, your adult baby. You sigh again.

"I don’t know if I’ll come this month, I’m still sort of settling in. But I’ll let you know if there’s a free weekend next month, alright?"

Sure, that sounds great. Will you send us some pictures of your friends, and your room?

"Sure," you say, but it bugs you that you’re giving in. Already, you’re breaking the promise you made yourself, and letting your parents further into your life here than you’re comfortable with.

"Mom, I gotta go, I’ve still got some problems to solve and I’m meeting Alva for dinner soon."

Okay, darling, enjoy your night! And make yourself heard. I love you!

"Love you, too! Talk soon."

Your kind, clingy mother, whose greatest pain is not knowing if you’re safe. In a way you miss her, and you feel guilty for being annoyed. Still, you know you have to gently nudge her away from you, or she’ll suffocate you one day. It makes you angry with yourself, because you know your Mom would have liked nothing more than to hear all about your week, but as soon as she asked you a question, you felt like your seventeen year old self again, getting yelled at because you stayed up past your curfew, and your parents didn’t know where you were.

Tears of frustration spring to your eyes – the mix of feelings too much for you to handle. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, breathe in shakily, and try to focus on your assignment again, but now you’re riled up, and the tears won’t stop.

It’s hard for you to deal with disappointing your parents, forcing them away when they would like nothing more than to know everything that’s going on in your life. So, instead of preparing for Joel’s lecture, you cry on your bed, feeling lonely and angry with yourself for hurting them. You know your reaction is disproportionate, but everything you kept buried while you lived close to your parents comes bubbling out of you.

You call Alva, tell her you have cramps because of your period and just want to stay in bed. She’s understanding, asks you if there’s anything she can do, even offers to bring you takeout or a hot water bottle, which makes you feel all the worse for lying to her. You decline her offer, tell her you’ll meet her Monday morning. In the evening, you regret not letting her bring over a real meal, eating cold pasta in your underwear, tears still running down your face and making your head pound.

***

On Monday, you feel slightly better, your headache is gone and your face isn’t as puffy as you expected it to be. Still, you’re in a solitary mood, and are glad to find Alva is able to keep up an entire conversation virtually by herself – you just grunt from time to time, or give noncommittal movements of your head in vague agreement. You hope if she notices your bad mood, she just thinks it has to do with your period.

Computational Physics is hell – you dislike it on the best of days, but guilt ridden and tired, you’re barely able to pay attention at all, and the professor’s handwriting is so bad, you end up copying down Alva’s notes instead. She’s kind about it, slides over her notebook at an angle that makes it easy to read, and you make a mental note to thank her for being so kind to you while you’re offering nothing but a scowling expression all day. Maybe you’ll cook for her, or make a mixtape of your favorite songs, just to show her you’re interested in being actual good friends.

Lunch passes easily, as always you sit with Alva and the guys, and there’s enough people for you to stare at your mashed potatoes and repeatedly stab them with your fork instead of eating them. They taste like flour mixed up with water, and you dream up your father’s Sunday dinner instead, but it does little to help with the taste.

"So, you lookin’ forward to flirting with Miller in front of the whole lecture hall again?" Alva asks you, as you’re making your way to said room. You glare at her, but can’t help the corners of your mouth twitching.

"Wasn’t flirting with him," you answer, kicking a pebble, "I grew up across the street from him, I’ve known him practically my whole life."

"Whatever you say, grumpy," Alva teases, nudging your shoulder with hers. You’re overcome with a rush of gratitude for the way she treats you, persistently kind and humorous. You chuckle, your mood lifting slightly.

"He’s probably been waiting for you to turn legal," she continues, and you groan.

"Gross, Alva, he’s not a creep."

"I’m just saying, if your little connection gets you the answers to his tests, you could sell them and become rich."

"I already asked him, he said no," you say darkly, thinking of the nights you’ll have to spend studying to pass his exam. This makes Alva laugh her brilliant laugh, and you can’t help but smile, too.

"Damn," she grins, "I’d try if he wasn’t a guy."

You snort.

"You try with Professor Carter, I need the answers to Computational," you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

"You’re joking, but I bet once you get her out of her frumpy cardigans, she’s a real–"

"Okay, stop," you grown, the image of Professor Carter taking off her cardigans worse than her keeping them on – if possible. Alva giggles.

"I’ll help you with Computational," she says, "if you help me with Quantum Mechanics."

"You’re good at both," you argue, and Alva shrugs.

"Not like you, though. I spent like four hours doing Miller’s assignment last night."

You want to tell her you didn’t do it at all, but before you can open your mouth, she spots a friend in the crowd, grabs your arm and drags you over to him.

The three of you sit down together, closer to the front than the week before, which gives you a direct line of sight to Joel’s desk. When he walks in, your stomach jumps – he’s wearing a tie today, a dark burgundy or blue, you aren’t sure from this distance, flecked with specks of white. Again, his hair is styled in that carelessly disheveled look you like so much, and the image of him putting gel in it makes you smile. He gets out his materials for the lecture, and looks up, his eyes finding yours – you smile and he gives a small nod. Again you’re struck by how different he acts in front of the class, how serious he seems. You think of his laid back manner when you had coffee, and struggle to make the images align. Joel clears his throat, and the chatter around you stops.

"Quiet, please, everyone. Thank you. So, last week, we found out that Dirac’s equation predicts the existence of antiparticles. But instead of just accepting that, let’s think deeper—mathematically, what feature of the equation forces this conclusion?"

Joel jumps right into the lecture, and just like last week, nobody raises their hands – you curse the people around you for their lethargy, because sure enough, Joel’s eyes land on you. Before you can shake your head to signal to him not to ask you, he calls your name.

"If I remember correctly, you were already familiar with Dirac’s equation last week. What would you say, what does the existence of negative-energy solutions tell us, and why couldn’t we just ignore them?"

You wish you could answer him, know he asked you because he was sure you’d know the answer, perhaps hoped your enthusiasm for the subject would get the rest of the students to participate more, but you didn’t do the assignment, and you’ve already half forgotten his question. You swallow.

"Um…I…I’m not sure, Sir," you say, watching the way his brows furrow, and looking down at your notes. Alva shoots you a curious look, and when she sees your expression, she raises her hand. You’re thankful to have Joel’s attention diverted, feeling like a fool in front of hundreds of students you’re trying to make friends with.

"Dirac’s equation gives positive and negative energy solutions, and at first, the negative ones didn’t make sense. Dirac suggested they represent antiparticles, like the positron, which he predicted. The idea was that electrons could, like, jump into these negative-energy states, creating a hole that looks like a positron, which was later confirmed experimentally," Alva explains instead of you.

"You're close, but electrons don’t actually 'jump into' negative-energy states. Instead, Dirac proposed that these states are already filled, forming what he called the Dirac Sea. A positron isn’t an electron jumping down, it’s actually a 'hole' left when a negative-energy electron gets excited to a positive-energy state. That distinction is important because it explains why positrons have the opposite charge. Good answer, though, thank you Ms. Bennet."

Joel’s eyes flicker over to you again, but you show no reaction, and he continues with his lecture without asking you another question. Alva glances at you inquiringly, and you sigh.

"I wanted to do the assignment yesterday, but my cramps were really bad," you explain quietly, and she nods sympathetically.

"Call me next time, I’ll send you my answers," she whispers, and you smile gratefully. It seems you really hit the jackpot in friendship when you sat down next to Alva.

***

After Joel’s lecture, you and Alva make your way over to the vending machine, because it has the sour patches she likes, and in her own words she’ll combust if she doesn’t eat some right fucking now.

"Shit," she curses, "they’re stuck."

"Let me," a voice comes from a behind you, and when you turn around, Joel is smiling at the two of you. "Took me a while to figure this thing out, too."

Alva steps aside, and Joel bangs his palm against the side of machine. You jump, but the sour patches make their tumbling way down to the dispenser.

"Great! Thanks, Professor Miller," Alva says, ripping the bag open and offering it to the two of you. To your surprise, Joel takes her up on it, and Alva grins at you.

"You were quiet during today’s lecture," Joel says tentatively, when he’s swallowed his sour patch "everything alright?"

You glance at your shoes.

"Um, yeah. I wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and I left your assignment for last, so…I didn’t do it."

Joel’s expression grows worried, and Alva glances between the two of you.

"Hey, I’m meeting Max for coffee," she tells you, "see you later?"

"Yeah," you answer, grateful she’s granting you this time alone with Joel, "see you, Alva."

When she’s gone, Joel is still looking at you with that worried look on his face, and you sigh.

"Sorry about the assignment," you say, "won’t happen again."

"I’m not worried about the assignment," Joel says earnestly, but then he turns his head, and you know he doesn’t want someone listening in. Sure, you can be seen chatting in the university cafe, but this conversation is rapidly blurring the lines between scholarly and – something else.

"I…have some materials in my office that might make it easier for you to catch up with the lectures again," Joel tells you, and you understand the underlying meaning. Let’s talk in my office.

"Thank you," you say, relieved, and Joel nods, eyes still glued to yours, brows still furrowed. You walk to his office making smalltalk about the lecture, which to anyone listening in would seem like a normal conversation between a professor and an interested student.

Joel opens the door to his office for you, and lets you step in first. It’s small, cramped bookshelves on the walls and a sturdy desk in the middle that is littered with notes, pencils, books, and a couple of old coffee mugs. You notice he put part of his books sideways onto the shelves, which you find weirdly endearing. This is the Joel you know – clutter and warmth.

He closes the door behind you, and you turn around to watch him drop his bag and walk over to the kettle in the corner of the room.

"Coffee?"

"Please," you sigh, "if you don’t have anything stronger."

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t answer, just turns on the already filled kettle, and gets two clean cups for the two of you.

"I only have drip coffee," he tells you, "I don’t drink that crap the machines brew up."

"That’s fine, I enjoy the medieval feel of it."

"Watch it," he answers, a smile tugging on his lips, "don’t insult my coffee filter in front of me."

You grin, and walk over to his bookshelf to have a look.

"So, what’s going on?" he asks you while pouring the boiling hot water over the coffee grounds. Again, the Joel you remember – empathetic, but unusually direct. You sigh, turn around and shrug.

"Mom and Dad called yesterday, and I could tell they missed me, but I just…I cut them off after two minutes."

Joel places the cups on his desk, and leans against it. His sleeves are rolled up again, and when he crosses his arms, you feel that familiar pang in your stomach.

"And now I…I don’t know, I feel so guilty, Joel. They’re not even being dicks about it, but I just know they’d prefer for me to check in with them more…and the worst thing is, I know it’s not a big deal. They’ll get over it, they’ve got a good life without me constantly in it, so I don’t know why my stupid brain can’t just let this go, you know? One I miss you, darling, and I’m reduced to this pathetic mess, instead of just, I don’t know, getting my shit together."

You shake your head and clench your teeth, once again embarrassed to come crying to Joel about your parental issues, but he’s the only one you can tell. Sure, Alva would probably listen, but you don’t feel like explaining your family to a near stranger. Joel just gets it. Joel knows you.

He’s looking at you, arms still crossed, and for a second you worry he might not want to hear about your little breakdown, but then he sighs.

"You have your shit together all of the fuckin’ time, kid, I think that might be the problem," he tells you quietly. "You’ve always been so hard on yourself."

He’s right, once again he sees what you struggle to show the world, and his words make tears spring to your eyes. You will your eyeballs to suck them back in, but of course, Joel sees.

"Hey now," he says, taking a tentative step towards you. One tear drops from the end of your lashes and down your cheek, and the dam is broken again – they come spilling in floods. Joel crosses the room in a second, and there is a slight moment of hesitation between the two of you, before you bury your face in his chest, and let your restraint fall. You cry quietly, feel him wrap his arms around you, as he rocks you back and forth.

"You’re alright," he tells you, "Shhh, it’s okay, you’re alright."

"S-s-sorry about the assignment," you manage, and Joel’s hand starts stroking your back.

"Jesus, kid, stop worryin’ about the fucking assignment," he tells you, voice low and worried. "You don’t gotta be so strict with yourself. You’re doin’ just fine."

He smells so much like home, you think you might never stop crying.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with me," you hiccup, "One week here and I’m a mess already."

You feel Joel rest his chin on your head, and his arms tighten around you.

"There’s nothin’ wrong with you, you hear me? You hold yourself to high standards. Creates pressure, kid."

As always, he’s right of course – you want to excel academically, you don’t want to hurt your parents, you want to stay true to yourself and do what makes you happy, you want to make friends without compromising your grades. It’s impossible.

You breathe in shakily, your eyes closed, face buried in Joel’s chest, and for a second he is all that exists – just Joel, all around you, pulling you to the earth. Slowly, your breathing calms, Joel still rocking you soothingly, holding you close.

"There we go," he mutters, when your chest stops shaking, "that’s good."

When you pull away from him, he puts his hands on your shoulders to really look at you, and although you’re embarrassed by your outburst, you’re glad he doesn’t shy away from you.

"I want you to start being a little more lenient with yourself, alright? You don’t need to worry about an assignment on top of everything."

His hands are rubbing your shoulders, his eyes are kind and warm.

"Maybe not about yours, but I have like five other lectures –"

"Okay, so try to stop worrying about my assignments, just mine. Won’t bite your head off if you don’t do them, and I’ll only ask you questions when you raise your hand, alright? In fact, for the rest of the term, I want you to hand them in late."

Despite yourself, your lips pull up in a small smile.

"That’s silly, Joel," you say softly, but he shakes his head.

"It’s not silly, it’s practice to get you out of your comfort zone."

You consider his words for a moment. You do keep a pretty tight reign on yourself, and just the thought of doing every assignment late makes your skin crawl with anxiety. But when will you get another chance to step out of your comfort zone as safely as now, with Joel? He’s offering you a way to try it without actually risking your grades. And who knows, perhaps it actually will take a little bit of pressure off of you.

"Okay," you answer, staring up at Joel with puffy cheeks and teary eyes. "Alright."

He smiles at you, but he still looks worried and you wish he’d pull you close to him again. It’s such a relief to have this sort of human contact with someone who really knows you.

"Feel better?"

You sigh, and nod.

"It’s just a lot, you know, uni and my parents, and every social interaction feels like such a chore, cause I don’t know people yet. I feel like I’m not even relaxed when I’m asleep."

Joel hesitates for a moment, before he speaks, but when he does, he sounds determined.

"Come over tonight, I’ll make us somethin’ to eat, and you don’t have to worry about talkin’ to anyone. We’ll watch whatever you’d like. You still enjoy those crappy horror movies?"

You smile at the shared memory – Joel letting you use his living room to watch slashers your parents didn’t want you to see. One summer, when the heat was so stifling you barely went outside, you practically lived at his place, and when you’d seen all the DVDs he owned, he got you more from the video store.

"I do," you say quietly, the fact that Joel remembers more important to you than his proposal to spend the evening together. You feel significantly less alone, all of a sudden.

"Alright, then. Be over at seven,“ Joel tells you, and you nod, wiping your wet face with the back of your hand.

"Thank you, Joel," you say, and hug him again, because you don’t know how to tell him in words what you’re feeling, and his big, warm body against yours feels more than soothing.

"Course, kid. Just don’t tell Alva, or they’ll fire me."

You smile, your arms still wrapped around his neck, as he holds you.

"But I don’t wanna get you in trouble, what if–"

"No," Joel interrupts you, "no what ifs. No worryin’. I forbid it."

And you accept it, leave it to Joel, because he tells you to – because you don’t have any room in your head for more worries, and because you trust Joel not to do anything reckless. You trust him, period.

***

You text Alva you’re having dinner alone, that your cramps are still acting up, and you do feel slightly bad for lying, but you would never risk Joel’s job. The idea of having dinner with him at his place should make you nervous after your change in feelings about him, but you’re just looking forward to having a meal with someone who knows you, and lets you be yourself.

Joel asked you to be there at seven, so you spend the rest of the afternoon in your dorm room, wondering if you should change your outfit or if it would seem desperate – in the end, you keep the jeans but change into a blouse instead of a sweater. The part of you that stares at Joel’s forearms during class now wants to look pretty for him, so that he’ll ask you over again. You know you’re being ridiculous, but it doesn’t stop you from putting on your nicest perfume.

You’re ten minutes early, so you sit in your little second hand car and try not to panic. You know Joel is merely trying to be a good…friend? Ex-neighbor, Dad’s best friend turned professor? There’s no real etiquette to cling to in this situation, for either of you, and although you’re positive Joel doesn’t have any ulterior motives with you despite his flirting, you know he could lose his job if someone finds out you went to his house. Even if you just watch slashers together the way you did ten years ago. It makes you anxious to know he’d risk something clearly important to him for just that – he moved to a different state, quit his old job, started over completely, and is now willing to endanger that new life just because you’re stressed. At the same time it seems ridiculous anyone could forbid the two of you to spend time together after having known each other your entire life. The thought is absurd, and still, you need to be careful.

You get out of the car before you start to hyperventilate, and ring Joel’s doorbell – it feels strange for him to live in a new house. He opens the door with a smile, and absurd relief floods your veins when you realize he’s wearing an old Led Zeppelin shirt and a pair of worn jeans. This is your Joel.

"I come bearing gifts," you announce, stepping into the house.

“Christ, where did you get this?”, Joel asks, taking the six pack of beer from you, so you can take off your jacket. “I didn’t know they sold Shiner Bock outside of Texas, I’ve been survivin’ on Bud”.

“Brought it with me,” you explain, “figured it’d help if I got homesick, you know, in multiple ways.”

You grin, and Joel shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Old enough to drink, well I’ll be damned. I remember when you begged your Dad to let you have a coke and he asked me if I thought the caffeine would stunt your growth.”

“Did it?”

“It might’ve,” Joel says with a chuckle, “but he didn’t let you have it.”

“Well, he isn’t here now, so let’s put those in the fridge.”

“No," Joel mutters, “no, he ain’t.”

While Joel puts the beer away, you take a look around his living room – despite your reservations about the new house, it reminds you of his old place. It’s got the same masculine and warm feel to it, dark wood, books all over the place, no bells and whistles. Joel is a practical man, and it’s charmingly etched into every part of his life – except for his new work-look. The room isn’t as cluttered as you remember Joel’s old house back in Texas, but you assume he hasn’t had time to accumulate clutter yet. No old newspapers are lying around, no birthday cards stacking up. You wonder if he’s lonely here, teaching all by himself, hundreds of miles away from the place he last grew roots in.

“Do you miss home?” you ask him, when he comes back from the kitchen with two bottles of beer in his hands. He looks at ease, much more himself than back at university. His jeans are faded, his shirt a little too big on his already broad frame, and his hair is clean and curly the way you like it – no gel twisting it into all sorts of un-Joel-like styles. Warmth floods your chest at the sight of him taking a swig of his beer. His crowfeet are a little more pronounced, and his hair has more grey strands than it did back home, but he’s still got that distinctly warm, no-nonsense feel to him.

“Sometimes,” he answers, offering you the second bottle. Your hand brushes his when you take it from him. “But I’m pretty busy here, you know, got a whole lotta lectures to plan, papers to grade and that sort of stuff.”

You nod, and sip at your beer.

“Have you…you know, met people? Made friends here?”

Joel plops down on the couch, and smiles up at you.

“You worried about my social life?”

You shrug, and smile almost timidly.

“You know me, kid, I like bein’ by myself.”

That’s true, for as long as you’ve known Joel, he’s been alone. You know he has nieces and nephews who adore him, and your Dad mentioned a woman once, but it must have been at least twenty years since they were together. You wonder why Joel doesn’t seem to want that sort of a domestic life, surely many women would be happy to let him put a ring on them.

You walk over to the window, and watch a blackbird tug at a writhing worm.

“Have you met someone at uni you wanna be by yourself with?” you ask with a small grin, turning back to find Joel already watching you. “I heard Professor Carter’s still single.”

“She’s very intelligent,” Joel says earnestly. You give him credit for not laughing about his colleague, and suddenly you feel bad for calling her frumpy with Alva. “But I think I’ll leave her to her simulations. Why am I bein’ interrogated?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, and glance out of the window again, “just making conversation.”

“Your turn, then,” Joel answers, and takes another swig of beer. “Any frat boys catch your eye? Or frat girls?”

You glance at him, a smile on your lips, and raise your eyebrows.

“Hey, I don’t discriminate. I thought, maybe Alva…”

“No,” you answer, feeling fond of him for considering the possibility. “Alva’s a friend. The guys are…well, they’re frat boys.”

Your voice carries enough disgust for Joel to laugh.

“Right,” he says, and his eyes are warm when they meet yours again. “Just us two loners, then."

“Cheers,” you say with a smile.

“Cheers.”

***

Joel’s cooking is a mystery to you – he loves to eat, and when he does cook, it’s always delicious, but he only ever makes one of five dishes. Again, that practicality shining through. Why try something new if you’ve perfected your routine? He made pasta for you, wasn’t sure if you’re still vegetarian and makin’ your Dad’s hair fall out, and you smile into the neck of your beer bottle, when you watch him drizzle dressing onto a carefully arranged side-salad. Throughout dinner, you tell him how much you love it at least five times, because you can tell he put effort into the meal. You know it’s not technically a date, but having a dinner he made just for you, in his home – it feels like one.

You steer the conversation away from heavy topics like your parents. Although Joel offered you this evening to make you feel better, you want to spend it with him rather than in your head, so you ask him about books and music, about his lectures, about Tommy and the kids. You like watching how his face lights up whenever he talks about something he particularly loves. Joel is a quiet man, but you found out years ago it isn’t shyness, but a disinterest in most mundane topics – he doesn’t like gossip or superficial small talk. When he tells you Tommy made him godfather of all of his children, the pride is evident in his voice, and you don’t have to fake your enthusiasm, although it amuses you, too – Tommy loving his big brother enough not to consider anyone else.

"She calls me uncle Joe," he tells you with a chuckle, "Can’t pronounce her Ls yet, but I’ve considered legally changing my name."

When you’re done eating, you help him clear the table, but when you reach for the sponge to do the dishes, Joel shakes his head.

"Let me do that later, kid. You wanna watch a movie?"

So the two of you plop down on the couch with a bag of M&Ms and another round of beer, and Joel hands you the remote.

"Go wild," he says, chuckling when you excitedly turn on he TV to open Netflix.

"Wow, a streaming service? I thought you’d just hoard DVDs for the rest of your life."

Joel huffs, and instead of answering, he leans forward, and reaches for something under his couch table. When he turns his head, he’s got glasses on his face, thick-rimmed and black, and so startlingly sexy, you almost drop the remote.

"You…you’ve got glasses?"

"Yeah," he answers, his eyes meeting yours, and you swallow. "When your eyesight deteriorates, that’s when you know you’re gettin’ old."

You hum but don’t answer, just hold his gaze for a second and look back to the screen. You try to ignore the familiar pang in your stomach at the sight of Joel in his new glasses, and skip through movie after movie, mumbling seen it, seen it, that one sucks, seen it, until Joel reaches over and snatches the remote from you.

"Hey–"

"I can’t read anything if you skip through them that quickly."

"You’re not supposed to read, you’re supposed to go with the vibe of the cover."

He glances at you with furrowed brows.

"Okay, sorry, didn’t know you’re a filmbro," you grumble, but it’s almost entirely fake – you couldn’t be annoyed with him, not when he pushes his glasses up his nose, and carefully considers which button to press on the remote.

"I don’t know what that means," he answers, and starts reading the description of a romantic comedy about Christmas.

"I’m not watching that."

"You don’t even know what it’s about."

"It’s September, Joel."

He huffs again, but finally reaches the horror movies. Surprisingly, it doesn’t take the two of you long to pick one, and the thought of two hours of brainless, scary entertainment on a couch with Joel makes you practically melt into his couch.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you during the opening credits, so you glance over and he smiles.

"Comfy?" he asks, his voice hoarse from relaxation.

"Yeah," you answer, and smile when hands you a blanket. He’s not exactly close to you, but it still feels a little intimate when you spread the blanket out and offer him the other end. He moves over a little, so that the blanket covers his legs, and when you concentrate you can feel his body heat next to you, so you try hard not to – and instead get lost in the movie.

It’s not particularly good, but the story does get under your skin a little, and when there’s an unexpected shriek, you violently jump and instinctively move closer to Joel. He chuckles, but doesn’t give any reaction to your arm suddenly pressing against his. He doesn’t move away, either, so you don’t, fear suddenly not being the only thing bubbling up in your stomach.

"Jesus," you mumble, the creeping music making you anticipate another jumpscare. You’re right, it does come, but prepared though you are, you still wince, and turn away from the screen slightly. Out of sight, out of mind. Joel turns around, too, and when he sees your widened eyes, he grins.

"How’s that Christmas movie lookin’ now?"

"I’m not scared," you say, and there is some truth to it, "I’m just not good with jumpscares."

When the next one comes, you can’t help it, you clutch his arm next to you, your nails digging into his firm muscle, and Joel glances at you again.

"Sorry," you say quickly, letting go of his forearm now marked with five tiny crescent shapes. "Jesus, Joel, sorry."

"It’s fine," he says, and the amusement is evident in his voice, "you sure you’re into this? There might be some cartoons–"

He stops talking when you glare at him, but his mouth is twitching under his beard. You’re determined to watch the entire movie, and you try not to let any reaction show, wanting to prove Joel wrong.

There is one particularly scary scene – it’s not necessarily violent, but the music and shaky camera movements make your pulse race, and you turn your head slightly, so as to look at something else. Joel glances at you again, but he doesn’t laugh this time, just puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. It’s grounding, the warmth of it, how his thumb digs into your muscle and his fingers spread out over your back and neck.

"You don’t gotta force yourself to watch this, kid," Joel says gently, all teasing humor gone.

"No," you say stubbornly, but move even closer to him. His touch is a welcome distraction from the movie, and although you know it’s stupid and reckless, you lean into him, and Joel puts his arm around you. It’s closer than you’ve been to him except for hugging, and your heartbeat starts to quicken for all the wrong, non-horror reasons. When you flinch, Joel tugs you against his side, and it feels natural to hide your face in his shoulder.

He was never touchy with you, or anyone for that matter, so something must have changed. You wonder if he’s trying to comfort you, or if you might not be the only one who can feel that strange pull between the two of you.

When the movie ends, Joel regrettably removes his arm from around your shoulders to switch off the TV, and although you’re slightly disappointed, you scold yourself for expecting something else.

"Not bad," Joel says with a small smile, and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Very brave."

You scoff, but feel the corners of your mouth twitching, too.

"I used to be less of a wimp, but I guess you soften with age."

"You’re twenty-three," Joel argues, "that’s young."

Yeah, too young. Too young to lean over and kiss him, or climb into his lap, or expect anything other than paternal care when he’s got his arm around you. You look at your lap, all of a sudden feeling stupid and silly for having dreamed up an absurd fantasy about the man in front of you.

"Hey," Joel says gently, "what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, "nothing, I had a really great evening. Thanks, Joel."

You can tell you’ve confused him, but he nods, doesn’t question your sudden change of mood, and stands when you get up from the couch.

"Anytime, kid. You call me if you’re havin’ a bad time, alright? My door’s always open."

He’s so kind, so recklessly, stupidly, lovingly kind, and all of it is directed at you. You curse yourself for it, but again you feel that familiar burn in your eyes. Joel reaches out and easily pulls you towards his big body, hugging you the way he did in his office just this afternoon. He doesn’t ask you what brought on your tears, just lets you cry into his Led Zeppelin shirt that smells so much like home, like a childhood you won’t get back to. You remember whiffs of that smell when you were watching movies on his couch while he was at work, too pissed off at your parents to spend the summer at home. This scent was there when you attended a neighborhood barbecue after fighting with your father and Joel grilled some vegan sausages for you without comment or question. He’s always looked out for you like this, quietly, without demanding an explanation, just a solid, comforting presence in your life.

Your tears stop after a couple of minutes, and you take a step away from Joel, wiping your face. He looks so worried again, brows all furrowed and arms hanging limply at his side. Didn’t he flirt with you, though? Didn’t he prepare dinner for you the way a date would, ask you about your dating life, ask you to coffee? You don’t think you would be able to handle another evening like this one not knowing what Joel really thinks, so in a moment of hazy recklessness, you lean up.

His eyes meet yours, all warm and strangely unguarded, but before your lips brush his, a hand on your shoulder stops you. Without saying something, you move away from him, and nod to yourself, his reaction all the information you needed.

"Sorry," you say very quietly, not managing much else now that you’ve humiliated yourself in front of the only person you really know in a six hundred mile radius. Joel runs a hand through his soft hair, and inhales deeply.

"No," he says, his voice a little strained, "no, don’t be. I just…Jesus, kid."

He rubs his palm over his beard in such a familiar way, your chest aches a little. It’s ridiculous how much you want to touch his face, to feel him again, skin on skin. So you don’t turn and run the way your embarrassed heart is telling you to, just watch him collect his thoughts, standing in front of him like a wet and beaten dog.

"Look," he begins, "I won’t say I’m not flattered, but that’s…it’s a bad fuckin’ idea. It’s…it’s chaos, and on top of that most people would argue it’s wrong."

You swallow. You know all of this, have turned it over in your head ever since you stared at Joel’s rolled up sleeves for two hours on that first Monday, but hearing him say it makes your stomach churn.

"Yeah," you mutter, and trace Joel’s shadow with the very tip of your foot, "yeah, of course. Sorry I put you in that position, wasn’t right."

Your face still feels puffy, and you know you’re probably all red and pathetic looking, begging Joel for scraps of his attention, but all of a sudden, he lifts his hand up to your face, and cups it in his broad palm. His thumb strokes your cheek, and when you meet his eye, the expression on his face is tender.

"It’s alright," he tells you softly, "I can see you worryin’ at the speed of light in that pretty head of yours."

Something in your chest flutters at his words, at the rough and warm cadence of his voice. He reads you so easily, one turn of your head and he knows you’re lost to your thoughts.

"I shouldn’t have let myself toy with this idea," he continues, and your stomach flips. "I should’ve realized you’d pick up on it. It’s on me, alright? It’s on me not to start anythin’."

You can hear the implication – I’m the adult here. It’s not what you want to hear, but just the mention of Joel toying with this idea, as he put it, is enough to lift your spirits. So you weren’t crazy.

"I’m an adult," you say weakly, never having felt more like a child. Joel nods.

"You are, but I’m still in a position of power here. Be wrong, to abuse that."

His thumb is still moving over your cheek slowly, making it hard to think straight.

"So dinner and a movie doesn’t abuse it?"

You don’t want to argue, you don’t know why you keep disagreeing with him, and the way his face falls, you wish you hadn’t said it.

"No, it…it does, you’re right. Jesus, of course it does. I don’t blame ya for bein’ ang-"

"I’m not angry," you say softly, and tentatively turn your head in Joel’s hand. You press a kiss to his palm, his warm skin pressed right against your mouth. "I’m not your student, Joel. I mean, of course I am, but I know you. It’s different."

Joel’s eyes are glued to your face, and he looks so conflicted you wish he’d just throw you out of his house, if only to solve his dilemma.

"It’s still wrong," Joel mutters, his eyes glued to your lips since they brushed his skin "even if you take away the fact that I’m your fuckin’ professor. Your Dad…"

"My Dad is half a continent away and finds a way to be unhappy with whatever choices I make, so I might as well make the ones I want to."

The very first day, before you even met Joel, you decided to do what makes you happy while in university, and although this certainly wasn’t what you had in mind, you know it’s what you want. The only thing you want, in fact.

Joel sighs, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Joel, I’m not trying to…look, if I’m wrong about this, just tell me, but I feel…I just wanna be close to you all of the fucking time," you say quietly, "and it’s okay if you don’t, really. I just…I want you to know it’s not nothing to me."

Saying I don’t just want to hook up with you would feel too straight forward or crass, but you think Joel gets the gist of what you’re trying to say, and he closes his eyes briefly. You study his face behind his glasses, the wrinkles and freckles from years in the sun. You do feel anxious about his answer, but whatever it is, you’re glad you told him. It’s out in the world now, the way you feel when he holds you, and he can do with it what he pleases – you’ve handed him the reigns.

"I…I know what you mean. Me too," he says very quietly after a beat, his eyes open and looking directly into yours again.

A triumphant pang of affection pulses through you, and you put your hand over Joel’s, which is still resting on your cheek. He looks conflicted, but his other hand holds your waist now, and tugs your smaller body closer to his again. He’s solid as a brick wall in front of you, and you figure you’re allowed to touch, so you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Joel mutters, and strokes your lower lip with his thumb. If you had more guts, you’d let it slip into your mouth, but you’re still afraid he’ll pull back if you make a wrong move, so you just let him caress your mouth tenderly.

"Whatever you’d like," you answer just as quietly, and you know it sounds sexual, but you mean it in every way – if Joel wants to be nothing but your professor, you’d take it, and if he wants to keep you here in his house indefinitely, you’d let him. Joel keeps looking at you, taking you in as if he’s considering whether the risks outweigh whatever magnetic or gravitational pull the two of you have between you.

"Stay," he say after a while, and although his face looks slightly regretful, his voice is determined, "just…sleep here tonight. I like havin’ you here."

You want him to kiss you, to pull you onto his lap on the couch, to take you upstairs right now, but Joel seems to be restraining himself, so you just nod.

"Me too," you whisper, echoing his words back to him, and for just a second, his thumb digs into your lip a little harder, but then he pulls away.

"Testin’ my goddamn restraint," he mutters, and takes a step away from you. "I’ll get you something to sleep in."

***

Joel gets you one of his band tees you love so dearly, and just the idea of being enveloped by something that smells like him all night makes it a little easier when Joel tells you he’ll take the couch instead of inviting you to sleep with him in his bed.

"No," you say softly, "it’s fine, you just sleep in your bed, Joel. I’ll take the couch."

He looks critical, so you offer him a soft smile.

"I don’t know if your back could take it," you tease, and he seems torn up between laughing and frowning. In the end, he just shakes his head, mutters something that sounds a lot like bad fuckin’ idea, and gets you a blanket and pillow.

He brings you a clean toothbrush and towel, let’s you use his bathroom (you look at the shower the entire time you’re brushing your teeth, trying hard not to think about what Joel looks like using it in the mornings), and when you’re done changing, you unlock the door again.

He’s there, sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes trailing over your form in his much too big shirt. It’s long as a dress on you, coming down to your naked thighs. Joel visibly swallows and gets up from the bed.

"You got everythin’ you need?"

"Yes. Thank you, Joel."

There’s a beat of silence and you almost think Joel’s about to cross the room, but he just runs his palm over his beard the way he always does, and nods.

"Alright. Just shout if there’s…well, you know. I’ll be here."

"I will."

"Alright. Okay…goodnight, kid."

"Night," you almost whisper, voice soft, and right before you reach the door, Joel clears his throat.

"I…you were right about dinner and the movie. I wasn’t just tryin’ to be friendly," he says quietly, and your stomach swirls. Before you can walk over to Joel and do something about it, he sighs.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

***

You wake to the sound of something dripping, and when your eyes flutter open, you can see Joel’s back from the kitchen. He’s wearing his work outfit again, a white button down and dark pants, sleeves rolled up. It smells like coffee, and with a smile you realize he must be brewing his beloved coffee – no machine, just a filter. He looks broad, even from your spot on the couch, and you enjoy peeking in on him. You study his movements, the way he reaches for a cup, how his fingers absentmindedly drum on the kitchen counter while he waits.

When he turns around, his eyes find yours, and he smiles.

"Mornin’. Did I wake ya?"

"’S fine," you yawn, pulling the blanket up to your chin, not yet ready to get up. "I have classes at ten anyway."

"’S eight," Joel tells you, "Coffee?"

"Yes please," you answer, and stretch your limbs under the blanket.

Joel brings you a cup, complete with a little bit of milk and sugar, and you move your feet so he can sit down on the couch.

"Sleep well?"

You sip your coffee, let it burn your tongue and close your eyes at the taste. When you open them, Joel’s gaze lingers on your face.

"Yeah," you answer, "thank you for…you know."

He nods, takes a sip of his coffee, and looks at his lap. He looks like he wants to say something, but he’s very quiet, and you feel anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

"Joel, do you want me to leave? It’s fine if you do," you ask him softly, not wanting to make things awkward for him. It would be rational of him to ask you to leave, the smart and ethical thing to do.

"No," he answers quietly, still not looking at you, "I want you to stay."

Stay? On a Tuesday morning, after you almost kissed him and he told you he couldn’t do that, after you spent the night on his couch? When you have classes in two hours, haven’t showered yet, are half naked and wearing his clothes, on his couch under his blanket? When you’ve got friends wondering where you are and probably ten unanswered messages from Alva?

"Alright," you say, agreeing as easy as breathing.

Finally, he looks up, and his expression is so conflicted you reach out for him. Your hand finds his and you squeeze it. He keeps looking at you, his hand limp in your grasp, as if any movement of his muscles would incriminate him.

"You shouldn’t," he tells you earnestly. "Stay, I mean. You shouldn’t stay."

"I know."

You don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t move his away.

"It’s a really, really bad idea," he adds, and you’re not sure who he is trying to talk out of whatever this is. "It’s risky. Could blow up both our lives."

"Yeah," you say, and watch him sip his coffee, "okay."

Then, a tentative flex of his fingers against yours, and finally, he’s squeezing your hand just as tightly, and before you can process what that means, Joel is leaning over you, dangerously close. Your breathing quickens, you register how soft his hair looks, how strong his hand is. He leans in further and you sit up a little, still cocooned in his blanket. His face is close to yours, his eyes fiery with something you can’t pinpoint, and you sigh, when he closes the gap between you.

He tastes of coffee and toothpaste, and you wish you’d gotten the chance to shower, but the thought disappears almost immediately when you hear Joel groan. His kisses you languidly, deeply, and your fingers come up to his beautiful arm, barely wrapping around half of his biceps. He cradles the side of your face, pulls you closer, makes your stomach clench with need. It feels inevitable, the way he touches you, like you only exist in a physical form to be touched by him.

His free hand peels the blanket off your body, lets it slide to the floor without ever stopping his the kiss, and you moan softly, when his hand touches your waist. The sound makes him break away, stare down at you, pupils blown wide.

"Fuck, you look good in my clothes," he mutters, nudging your jaw with his nose, and pressing a kiss there. "You should really, really go home."

Your head falls back slightly to give him better access to your neck, and he brushes his lips over your pulse point. Your heart skips a beat.

"I – I know," you breathe, fingers digging into his arm. His beard scratches your skin deliciously, and it takes everything in you not to whimper or beg. Joel’s hand slips under your shirt – his shirt – and instead of finding your waist again, he digs his thumb into your hip, stroking the fabric of your cotton panties. The fire in your stomach burns brighter, and you almost buck up into him. Joel Miller, the Joel Miller who until recently had a key to your childhood home, who lent it to you whenever you forgot yours inside – he’s sucking bruises into your skin, and toying with your panties. It’s dizzying, his familiar voice when he hums in satisfaction, even rougher than usually.

His fingers trace the waistband of your panties towards the front, until they find a small, silky bow, and Joel groans. He doesn’t take your underwear off, doesn’t even touch you where you need him the most, just keeps playing with the little bow, until your hips twitch without your permission. A little lower, and he would be able to feel how wet you are, how wet you have been all night. You didn’t do anything about it, not while you were a guest in his house. It would have felt wrong. You can’t imagine anything feeling more right than Joel’s mouth and hands on you, though.

"Jesus," Joel curses, "I should stop bef–"

"No," you whine, all dignity turned to hot air by Joel’s fingers, "please, Joel, please don’t stop."

He curses again, and moves his big body so that he’s not just hovering above you, but actually on top of you, your thighs falling open for him easily. At the movement, his shirt hikes up your thighs, and you know you’re basically on display for him, your soaked underwear leaving little to the imagination. He’s still fully clothed, his perfect button down all wrinkled now.

"Look at you," Joel breathes, lightheaded with desire, "this all for me?"

So he saw, when you moved to accommodate his broad form, saw how soaked you are, knows you ruined your panties just because he kissed you.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please–"

Before you can beg further, his finger presses down on your clit, and he watches your face contort in pleasure, as it shoots up your spine. You whimper, staring into his eyes, and he stares right back, as you start to grind your hips against his palm.

Your head feels blissfully empty, all worries about this relationship, uni, your parents, gone from you with a simple, practiced movement of his hand. The whimpers keep falling from your lips, and Joel curses.

"So beautiful," he mutters, "tell me what you need, angel."

It’s not a question, it’s an order.

"I – fuck, I need you i–inside," you groan, and Joel’s lips find yours again.

"Yeah? Need me to fuck you good, even though they’ll throw us both out?"

It shouldn’t turn you on. You’re jeopardizing both your own and Joel’s career, and he’s turning it into dirty talk. Still, your pussy doesn’t lie, and the way it throbs for him, aching to get him inside, makes all doubts disappear from your mind.

"Yes," you answer, unable to say much more as Joel keeps drawing tight circles into your clit.

Your hands drift from his arms towards his front, and Joel curses, when you paw at his belt buckle. It takes you a second, but then it’s open, the sound of the metal exciting you – it sounds like a promise.

Joel finally tugs your panties down, and for a second you’re self–conscious about not being clean shaven, but the second he sees you bare and glistening for him, his fingers dip into your folds, gathering your wetness with no hesitation.

"Fuck me," he groans, bringing his hand up to his face and tasting you, holding eye–contact the entire time, "prettiest pussy I’ve seen in my life."

You twitch under him, dragging your gaze away from his eyes and to his fingers. A moan escapes you, your hands have gone slack on his waistband, and Joel smiles down at you. Then, he does the same motion again, drags the tips of his thick fingers through your sticky arousal, but instead of sucking them clean himself, he holds them up to your mouth. His eyes burn, when you wrap your lips around them without a moments hesitation, and he feeds you your own slick.

"Taste so sweet, huh?"

You don’t answer, just swirl your tongue around his fingers, and suck on them. Joel watches your mouth intently, lets you take your time.

"Good girl," he praises you, and you clench around nothing, "so fuckin’ needy for me."

He drags his fingers from your mouth, and finally pushes into you, the stretch much tighter than with two of your own. Your head falls backwards, and Joel curls his fingers.

"No, baby, look down here," he orders, and immediately you lift your head again, and watch him pump two thick digits in and out of you. It’s dizzying to think it’s the same hand that waved to you from over his fence for years and years. You feel a coil building in your stomach, and you moan.

"Fuck, Joel," you moan, his name leaving a delicious aftertaste in your mouth. His beautiful forearm flexes with every movement, your slick is dripping down his fingers, and those damn sleeves are still perfectly rolled up.

With a few more curls of his fingers, you gush around him, barely having time to warn him, and he praises you, calls you his good girl, drags his fingers against that spongey spot inside of you until you see stars.

When he slips his fingers out of you and holds them up to your face again, you clean them up with your mouth as Joel watches with bright eyes. To think that he’s the same man who taught you Dirac not twenty-four hours ago – already, you want him inside again. When you’re done, he fumbles with his own clothes, and you watch him this time instead of helping.

"You look so good like this," you mumble, eyes raking over his broad form, "Professor."

His eyes snap up to yours, and you grin.

"Fuckin’ Christ, kid," he mutters, popping open the buttons on his shirt, "you can’t say shit like that."

"You don’t like it? You know, I watched you during your lectures and dreamed about…well, about this."

His expression is unreadable, but if you’re not mistaken, his hands move even faster now, and then he shrugs out of his shirt. You almost moan at the sight of his naked torso, so broad and solid.

"You need to pay attention in class," Joel answers, as he opens his pants. Your breathing grows a little shallow when he reveals his boxers underneath, his bulge huge.

"Can’t," you mumble, "not with you looking like this."

He chuckles at that, at the honesty and need in your answer.

"Don’t worry," he says softly, "I’ll fuck it outta you. Won’t be needing’ me in class, not if I’m still leakin’ out of you."

Your lips part, your pussy clenches – a smile tugs on the corners of Joel’s mouth at your reaction. He drags down his boxer shorts, and your eyes snap towards his cock, so thick and dripping in precum. You whimper, you can’t help it, and Joel’s smile widens.

"We’ll make it fit, baby," he says, reading your mind, and then bends down and kisses you again. You try to tug your shirt upwards, but Joel’s hands find your wrists and he holds them tight.

"No, want to fuck you in it," he breathes against your lips, and you press your hips upwards until he groans. He pumps his fist over his cock a couple of times, and aligns it with your entrance.

"Deep breath, baby," he mutters, and you obey, staring up at him as he starts pressing into you. It’s tight, much tighter than his two fingers, and your eyes glass over with pain, but Joel goes slow. His hand strokes your tummy, helps you relax, while he pushes on consistently. You feel like he’s punching the air from your lungs, eyes wide with the stretch of him, as he nips at your jaw and neck to distract you.

"Know it’s a lot, but you can take it, angel."

"Y-yes," you moan, and screw your eyes shut, "please don’t stop, Joel."

Joel’s breathing is ragged with restraint, and suddenly his hips snap forwards – and he’s fully buried inside of your tight body, nestled right against your cervix.

"Back to Joel, are we?" he teases, and gives you a couple of seconds to get used to him. You whimper and claw at his arm.

"I – ah – I’ll call you Professor Miller ’f you want," you slur, as he starts dragging his cock out of you again. You tremble under him, the feeling almost more intense than when he pushed inside of you.

"Yeah? That get you off? Or – fuck– is it the fact that I’m friends with your parents?"

It really, really should be a turn off, to be talking about your parents right now, but the way Joel says it, the way he points out just how debauched it is what you’re doing – you can’t help but moan. You blush, too, can feel the heat in your face, but you’re tired of being ashamed of wanting him the way you do.

"Both," you answer, and this time Joel groans, his hips snapping into you at a rougher pace. The head of his cock hits your spot every time, and you let out little sounds of pleasure with every drag of his cock, unable to form a coherent sentence. Joel’s hand finds your clit again, rubbing circles as his other one pressing down on your stomach.

"Feel that?" he asks you, and you do, you feel him all up in your guts, "you take it so well baby, take all ’f me."

"Yes," you answer, eyes glassy with pleasure, "want all of you, Joel."

He bites your shoulder, keeps rutting into you, and soon you feel another orgasm building.

"Close – ah – so close," you whimper, and Joel speeds up his thrusts just slightly. You clench around him, right on the edge.

"Come for me, angel, give it to me."

You do, your hips bucking, back arching.

"Ah – fuck, Joel, Prof–"

"Say it," Joel orders, fucking you through the waves of pleasure.

"Professor."

He comes, too, twitching deep inside of you and spilling rope after rope of come. It feels right, like you’re his. His groan is rough, his thrusts sloppy, and you feel your pussy spasm around him in a third, weaker orgasm, or maybe it’s just aftershocks from your second. You’re limp underneath him, letting him use your body how he needs to.

"Fuck," he curses, "did so good for me."

He slips out of you, and you can feel his spend drip out of you. You’re weak, soft like jelly, sweaty and entirely satisfied.

"Jesus," you breathe, when he falls down next to you, his couch mercifully being big enough.

"Yeah," he answers, "Jesus."

***

Turns out, Joel Miller is a dirty talking bastard during sex, and a big softie afterwards. He makes you tea, strokes your hair while you sip it, then carries you up to his shower and gently washes your body his his sponge. Throughout, he’s quiet, and you wonder if it was too much, the mention of him being your professor, of your parents, but you’re too afraid to ask. He brushes your forehead with his lips when he dries you off, and pulls another of his shirts over you head. Your panties are entirely ruined, it’s all you’re wearing.

When you’re clean again, and relaxed, Joel pulls you onto his bed, wrapping you up in his arms.

"Did you…was that too much?" he asks you softly fingertips tracing over your thigh lazily.

"It was just right," you answer quietly, and he hums.

"You didn’t feel like you…I mean when you called me Professor, you wanted to do that, right?"

You look up at him, and press a soft kiss against his jaw.

"Of course, Joel. Wanted everything we did, I promise."

He nods, but you can tell there’s still something bothering him.

"You know that’s not what you are to me, though, right?" Your voice is soft. "You’re just Joel."

He brushes the top of your head with his lips.

"I mean it," you press on when he doesn’t answer, "it’s like a costume, Joel. I know it’s your job, but it’s…I don’t think of you as like, an authority figure or something. I just thought you looked hot in that slutty shirt."

"Slutty–?" he sputters and you laugh.

"Sure, you know, with your sleeves rolled up, and that first button popped open."

"’S not slutty."

"You showed your forearms. Half the lecture hall felt like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time."

Joel makes an exasperated sound, half amused and half offended.

"I mean it," you say again after beat, humor gone from your tone, "and it’s not just sex to me. You know that."

"Yeah," Joel answers slowly. "’S more to me, too."

It’s a hell of an admission.

"What are we gonna do?", you ask quietly, and Joel sighs.

"You’re gonna go to class," he says, voice dark, "and I’ll try very, very hard not to call your father and tell him I’m fallin’ for his daughter."

You bury your face in his chest. With anyone else, it would be too much, too fast, too intense. But this is Joel. It’s not fast if you’ve known him your whole life, is it? You kiss his chest, and he seems to understand.

"We’ll figure it out," Joel says quietly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

For a second you do want your parents to know, want them to see that someone does treat you like an adult, want to look them in the eye and say I’m with Joel now and there’s nothing you can do about it. I have my own life now and it includes this kind man. It’s childish, you know it is. You lean up, catch Joel’s mouth in a kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, “We’ll figure it out, Professor.”

#event horizon #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #professor!Joel miller #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel x you #Joel Miller x you #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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darkst4lker · 5 months ago

Text

detention. // remus lupin

professor!lupin x fem!reader

plot: on your last day of sixth year, you get detention with professor lupin, developing a huge crush on him since then. two years later, you graduated from hogwarts and were invited to join the order of phoenix by the weasley twins, so you arrive at the black family house where you've been provided with a place to stay by the order after recently being kicked out of your home. is then when you discovered that you would have to live under the same roof not only with sirius, but also with your big crush from years ago, remus lupin.

tw: professor x ex-student, nothing inappropriate happened when y/n was a minor, like a huge age gap (reader is 19, almost 20), mostly romance/fluff i guess, a little angst, mentions of the reader being a slytherin, reader is friends with the twins but she's older than them by a year, mentions of smoking, sirius black being sirius black it's his own warning, low caps on purpose.

notes: english is not my first language, thank you for the support on the other one-shots!!! ALSO HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! ♡♡ xoxo.

ps: i wrote this listening to speak now (the whole album) by taylor swift and it was an INTENSE experience.

it was your last day of sixth year and you couldn't believe that your last hours before dinner and taking the train were going to be spent on remus lupin office. now you really regretted following the twin's ideas for once.

in your eyes it was an innocent last-day-of-school prank, but it ended up with you three accidentally setting the whopping willow aflame for like twenty seconds before the three of you managed to stop the fire. yet, professor snape was the one to see the whole sequence of events, meaning he was completely livid and not so forgiving as others professors could be so he sent you and the twins straight to detention.

and that's how you ended up in professor lupin empty classroom, in detention, for three hours. of course snape separated you from the twins, so not only you were going to be sitting in one of the classroom benches for a long time, you were also alone.

remus was finishing getting some papers in order as he supervised you, and you sat quietly in the front row, completely bored as you looked at what he was doing to entertain yourself. in one moment, his eyes went to you, noticing your clearly irritated face.

the moment snape appeared in his door grabbing you and made him take care of your detention time (only to put more work on him last minute, he believed) you made him remember the times he used to do the same stupid shit with sirius, james and peter.

so, for the sake of the old times and the fact this was the last day of school, he decided to make your detention a little bit more entertaining.

“miss (l/n).” he called you, his voice calm as always.

“professor lupin.” you answered, still irritated but with the energy to speak ironically.

“what were you trying to do with the twins?” remus asked you, a subtle smile on his lips. he was looking at his work while he talked to you.

“when?” you answered smiling, trying to play dumb because the fact that the prank went terribly wrong embarrassed the hell out of you.

remus stopped organizing his paperwork as he raised his eyes from his work to give you a serious “don't pretend you don't understand” look, making you sigh in redemption.

“okay, im sorry professor, stop looking at me like that. it frightens me a bit.” you admitted as you rolled your eyes. “we were trying to set fireworks that were meant to activate when everyone went outside to take the carriages.”

his eyes relaxed when he got and answer and he continued with his work. he seemed to be just minutes away to finishing with his paperwork, though.

“you know, when i was your age i did the same kind of things with my friends.” remus said, chuckling a bit.

“no way.” you answered, clearly in disbelief. remus looked at you smiling softly for a moment.

“i swear” he added, and you instantly laughed.

“for merlin's sake!” you exclaimed, enjoying his confession and now feeling less alone than before. “the mysterious and innocent looking professor lupin ended up being a troublemaker, who could have guessed it?” you said, laughing.

he smiled as you laughed, still working on his papers.

“mysterious?” remus asked, an eyebrow raising in curiosity.

“y'know, what the other girls always say about you.” you added, trying to reference the constant things you heard from your classmates. “that you're mysterious because of your-... y'know.” you pointed at your face to reference his scars with all the delicacy you had. being a slytherin didn't helped a lot with having much tact, but for remus you tried. remus on the other hand, was usually uncomfortable with his scars but it warmed his heart a little that his students didn't think his face was completely unpleasant, as he did.

“they also say that you appear to be sweet and kind” you kept enlisting what you always heard, things that you also thought. things, that you firmly believed he didn't needed to know you thought. “and of course what i consider a classic at this point: that you're beautiful.” you ended up, a little smile on your lips.

remus stayed silent for a second before answering. a yawn scaped your lips as you were really tired. the whole thing with snape scolding you and the twins into oblivion had left you exahusted, yet you guessed remus wouldn't let you sleep on detention.

“those are all the things they say about me?” he asked, calmly. his apparently soft lips giving you a warm smile. somehow inside your chest you knew he wasn't as pure as he appeared.

in your eyes, remus had the look of a wounded man who couldn't afford to be innocent because he was already rotting since long ago, his soul marked with the kiss of something beautiful enough to torture a man.

there had to be a reason for the way this man was always looking like he knew something you didn't.

“yes. i think all the girls have a crush on you.” you said, answering his question like if your mind wasn't lingering on the way his fingers moved while manipulating every paper in his desk. that's what finally made you realize that in some point you were included in the affirmation you said, because remus lupin was too kind with everything and everyone for you to not end up completely mesmerized.

yet, you thought it was natural for you to develop a crush when this man guided your hand with his in class and whispered sweet instructions in your ear when he picked you to make a demonstration. i mean, who would not feel butterflies around him was the right question.

“i never noticed.” he lied, because in fact he did noticed, but it was fun to have someone gossiping with him about the class rumours. not that remus specifically enjoyed them though, but sometimes he felt like a gossip when discussing with, for example, minerva about all the things other students commented about him.

and right now, you were the one making him feel like a gossip. he honestly believed that you were his funniest student but also the most oblivious one.

oblivious, because you truly believed he didn't noticed you were one of the girls crushing on him too.

you smiled at remus, looking at him for a moment. you were aware that he probably lied about not noticing what the girls commented of him. he had this delicate demeanor in his face features that you couldn't fully explain, even if his skin was full of scars.

and every single one of those scars felt like a whole mistery waiting for you to solve. what you didn't knew yet, was that his scars were a prophecy of his damnation.

“i thought every teacher noticed.” you stated, smiling tiredly at him. as your thoughts became a little cloudy, you could notice that you were about to fall asleep, so you felt like you had to ask remus if you could rest a moment, or at least warn him. “professor lupin” you called him.

“yes, (y/n)?” remus answered, using your name. a chuckle settled in his lips as he used the same ironic tone you used earlier when he called your name.

maybe it was the fact that you were sixteen at the time, and your hormones were crazy or the way you suddenly started struggling to stay awake, but something in the way your name came out of his lips made you feel like you had a cloud of furious butterflies inside your body, eager to come out of you. his voice made your name sound so elegant that every letter curled in your guts and twisted your heart like a siren call straight from the deepest ocean.

a subtle blush settled on your cheeks, and you took a deep breath as you noticed how his smell was all over the classroom: chocolate, parchment, coffee, old book pages. autumn.

being in sixth grade meant that the amortentia was on your class program, and after some time alone with professor lupin, you quickly connected the dots of what was exactly the scent you smelt that one time snape put a calderon full of amortentia in front of your class and asked what was it.

yet you were getting too sleepy to deal with the huge crush you just realized you had with remus lupin in that moment. « i'll handle it next year » you thought, like if he wasn't in your amortentia scent, before finally answering him.

“nothing, i was just going to ask if it would be possible for me to take a quick nap here” you asked him, smiling clearly tired. “please professor lupin, snape exahusted the hell out of me.” you added, as if the plea would do something to help your case.

remus looked at you clearly trying not to laugh at the things you said. if you only knew he detested him just as you did, and that he always got exahusted from dealing with severus too.

he let out a deep breath before answering.

“go ahead. you do seem tired.” he said, having a little mercy on you. “i'll wake you when detention it's over.” remus added, now having finished with his paperwork and opening a book he had in his desk. it was the last day of school, and he felt like you deserved a little of good will from him.

you rested your head on your arms against the bench, closing your eyes softly.

“thank you professor, that's why you're my favourite.” you said, finally letting the sleep trap you in his arms.

remus watched over your dreams with the affection only him could possess. the sweetness he lacked as a wolf, he had it as a human.

so, when you had sleep over almost all your detention time, remus stood up from his desk chair and walked over you to finally woke you from your well deserved nap, fifteen minutes before dinner.

“y/n” he said, calmly. “y/n” he repeated.

you opened your eyes, moved your head a bit and looked up at him, standing up in front of you.

“good evening, professor.” your answer came out sleepy, pieces of your dreams lingering on your body.

“good evening, y/n.” he smiled at you from above. “here, take this.” remus said, placing a piece of chocolate in your bench, next to your head. “it'll wake you up a little.”

you didn't answer, as you were still trying to keep your eyes open.

“i need to get all these papers to my office, please leave the classroom door closed when you go to the great hall” he added, ruffling your hair with kindness before grabbing a pile of papers on his desk and leaving you alone in the classroom with the piece of chocolate as his only remain.

when you were awake enough, in the solitude of the classroom, you ate the chocolate piece and left, too excited and flustered with what just happened to remember that you had to leave the class door closed.

after that day you went home, spent your vacations there until your seventh year started, and when you got to hogwarts and dumbledore announced that your new professor of defense against dark arts was going to be alastor moody, your stomach dropped to your feet in deception.

that was the exact moment you damned your sleepy ass and how you thought you could do something about your crush «next year». you couldn't. you wouldn't.

and the worst part is that you knew that even if remus were there, nothing would have ever happen. he was a good man, and you were just a stupid girl thinking you stood a single chance with him. or maybe not, but still you wanted to see him every day again if it was possible.

the first night of your seventh year you cried like a heartbroken girl in your bed because you thought you wouldn't see remus again, and none of your dorm mates knew what happened to you or how they could help.

the only ones who knew what was happening to you were fred and george, because they were your best friends, and even if they did everything to make you feel better you were still crying for weeks like if someone had died.

and, being aware that harry potter surely would know what happened with lupin, the twins borderline interrogated him for days until he spilled out what he knew. so fred and george came back to you with the whole story: lupin was a werewolf and he had to quit because snape sniched on him with the students parents. obviously, you scolded them because harry had enough to think about with someone slipping his name into the goblet of fire but you were extremely grateful, and now you had an excuse to murder snape.

yet, you also had an answer to all the questions you had about remus. why his face was full of scars, why he looked so emotionally wounded, why he always seemed to know something you didn't, why he disappeared once per month. he was a werewolf.

so, settling with the fact that you would probably never hear of him again you kept your broken heart and your silly little crush in a box, graduated from hogwarts and went home. until one day, an owl with a letter woke you up early in the morning crashing into your window. you recognized fred's messy calligraphy.

« dear (y/n):

well that sounded awful. anyways, how is it going? be kind enough to write us a letter one of these days, we've been missing you.

since you're sooo good doing crazy shit with your wand (almost like us) me and george fred george recommended you to our parents for a little organization that's starting to rise again. we cannot explain more since y'know, the ministry is intercepting owls like crazy.

please come on september 9th at night to 12 grimmauld place. don't use flu. or maybe just come to our house first and we can take you there. yes, that's it, come to our home and we'll go together to grimmauld place.

we expect a letter to confirm your answer. or maybe just a letter telling us about you. please write us we're desperate!! and we miss you!!

ps: lupin will be there ;) SO SAY YES!!

sincerely yours,

fred george george and fred fred and george weasley »

you laughed at the whole letter, and when you read about remus being there, you decided to do what they asked you. you quickly wrote an answer and sent the owl back to them saying yes, but your parents ended up finding their letter.

your parents weren't the most tolerant people, being wizards with an opulent life and purist ideas just like the malfoys, so of course they weren't happy about you receiving a letter not from one but two weasleys. and for once you stood up to fight them back, confessing you planned to go with your friends.

that was the last straw, and days before of what fred and george stated, you were in their front door because your parents kicked you out of home with promises of disinherit you. you were a blood traitor on their eyes now.

the weasleys kindly received you and finally explained for what organization they were trying to recruit you: the order of the phoenix.

you agreed to join gladly, out of rage for your parents ideals and out of impotence because you openly believed what harry said: voldemort was back.

and, just as fred and george promised, on september 9th everyone went to grimmauld place, you included. it was a shiny full moon night and when you and the weasleys stood in front of the door, for a second you wondered if remus was okay. if his transformations were painful, if he was going to be comforted after.

when you got inside the house, the weasleys revealed to you that the plan was for you to stay at grimmauld place, and keep sirius black (who you recently found out that was an innocent) company the most part of the year. you were told that everyone would pass from time to time and that remus was probably going to be staying there the most of the time too.

so, you met sirius, who guided you to his deseaced mother's room and told you to leave your things there since you were going to be living there full time. you settled up and after a lovely dinner that molly prepared, you officially joined the order.

it almost felt like a fever dream, days ago you were at your parents house, and now you were joining a resistance and just hours away from seeing remus lupin again. a part of you was excited and other was scared of falling in love with him, heartbeat going crazy just at the idea of sharing a home with him.

you went to bed in the middle of a haze, the sheets embraced you with tenderness as you closed your eyes and the fatigue of all the events clouding your life catched up with you. you had a dreamless sleep until a scream suddenly waked you.

you didn't found time to change as you got out of bed almost running, worried that something had happened. yet, the moment you went down the stairs you saw arthur, sirius, moody and molly (who was clearly agitated and you guessed she was also the one who screamed) looking at someone laying in the sofa of the living room.

it was late for you to go back unnoticed, as sirius instantly saw you.

“(y/n)” he said, tenderly. “i apologize if we woke you.”

you didn't answered because in the exact moment he talked to you, arthur moved from his place and you saw the face you never thought you would ever see again.

remus layed on the sofa, his face was extremely pale and full of scraches, he had a nasty wound on his chest and in general, he looked sick. molly was helping to treat the deep cut on his chest and you quickly realized that was probably what made her scream.

you looked at sirius, your expression soaked in concern for remus state. it was almost unrealistic seeing him like this but you finally understood the violence involved in being cursed by the moon.

it was the first time you saw him in two years but your eyes couldn't fully believe what they were seeing. the one you adored so much in deep secret, was injured and almost unconscious.

a part of you knew you didn't had to seem extremely worried if you intended to keep your secret, but it was hard for you to restrain your feelings.

“is he-...” you doubted before the words escaped your lips. “is he going to be alright?”

no one but sirius payed attention to your presence as they were focused on remus. he looked at you with reassurance as you stood on the doorframe.

“yes, yes. do not worry, he has been worse.” sirius answered, giving you a calm smile. “go back to sleep, tomorrow it's going to be a long day and we'll have a meeting.” he added, as his attention went back to remus.

your feet refused to move for a couple of seconds and just when you were about to turn back and go to bed, remus eyes met yours. his gaze subtly widened and you felt like a deer in lights, provoking you to almost run upstairs just the way you did a couple minutes ago.

but as you left, remus felt ashamed of himself. after not seeing you for so long, suddenly now you knew what he was, who he was. what the beast inside of him provoked every full moon.

at the same time everyone treated his wounds, trying to make him feel better, in his mind he cursed his lycanthropy. remus couldn't help but feel like a constant burden, a beast who had to be kept captive.

as a couple of days went by, you didn't saw remus at all. molly insisted on him resting some days in bed since he was injured and his transformation had been quite violent so you only heard the news that she or sirius brought back of remus state when they went to check on him.

until one night you couldn't sleep, and you decided to go downstairs for a cup of tea. you tried to be silent as you got out of your room in your pajamas and went to the kitchen.

but oblivious as you always were, you didn't noticed that as you prepared your tea, your back facing the doorframe, someone else was also getting into the kitchen but with the intention to get a coffee.

“good evening, miss (l/n)” you jumped back as the teasing voice of remus lupin scared you, making you drop a bit of tea over the counter.

“shit-... prof- sorry-...” you said, surprised and nervous. the words struggled to find an order while coming out of your lips but you realized in time that remus wasn't you professor anymore and that he was probably joking.

the way he said your last name scratched your brain in a oddly specific way. or well, everything he said had that effect on you.

“im sorry, i didn't meant to-...” remus started to say but you interrupted his words, turning to face him.

“don't worry it's okay, i didn't thought someone else would be awake.” you answered, smiling at him.

the moment you looked at him you noticed that remus had the same loving and sweet gaze he had two years ago. all this time you believed that you may had been delusional about your crush over him, that maybe you had set a extremely high standard or that this was all a product of the idealized remus you had on your brain, but no.

as you saw him standing there, a comfortable brown sweater on his body and his now healed scratches on his face you realized that the man you've been crushing on was as wounded and broken as you once remembered. the same tender look on his eyes being a constant reminder of the cruelty of his destiny at the hands of the moonlight.

“you can call me remus, by the way.” he clarified, smiling at you and you nodded.

“remus... sounds good. better than professor lupin.” your answer was a little bold but you felt relief when he chuckled. “so, what are you doing here this late?” you asked as the cup of tea went to your lips and you took a sip, testing the temperature.

“i could ask you the same, you know?” remus smiled as he walked closer to the counter, meaning he was closer to you too. “i was craving coffee, and since the days after the full moon i can never sleep, a night coffee it seemed like a good idea.” he added, as he started preparing one. “also this is the only place in the house where molly allows me to smoke.” he said whispering playful like if he was telling you a secret.

then you gave a quick look at the ceiling and noticed that had some stains. stains caused by the cigarette smoke, you guessed.

you smiled at him and took another sip of your tea.

“are you feeling better, then?” you finally asked him, curious and nervous. the question had been repressed in your chest for a couple of days.

“well, sirius and molly took good care of me.” remus said, still preparing his coffee. “i feel a little numb this time, though. it was more intense than usually.”

“i was a bit worried.” you admitted, looking at his hot coffee on the counter, and then directing your eyes to his.

“i know, i saw you. and i heard you.” he answered, now grabbing a cigarette he had tucked behind his ear. “i thought you were scared of me, by the way you ran upstairs when i looked at you.” remus smiled a bit while speaking, but it became a melancholic smile when he said those last sentences. then he put he cigarette on his lips like a tender death kiss.

you realized how he was probably insecure about his nature. for him, a death omen. but for you, it felt like the moon loved him so much she needed to have him for herself once a month. but it was a exhausting love, the kind of love that consumes you to the core of your being and hurts your soul.

yet you wondered what kind of love remus had to offer, and if he indeed had feelings for someone inside his chest, who would be the one blessed with remus love.

when remus lighted the cigarette, he took a deep drag and released the smoke with a certain elegance that you couldn't explain.

“no, i could never-...” you stopped yourself from saying something you would probably regret. “i wasn't scared, i was embarrassed. i thought i was being intrusive. it was one hell of a entrance after not seeing you for two years, though.”

he smiled at you, more relaxed than before as he leant against the kitchen counter. the hand that didn't held the cigarette was now grabbing his coffee and your eyes quickly made their way to his fingers against the cup. you felt like you were sixteen again, looking at his hands.

when he answered your gaze found his again.

“you're right, it's been a long time.” remus took a sip of his coffee. “i hope you didn't got in much trouble after i left.”

“i became a bit worse.” you admitted. then your lips kept moving, saying things you didn't thought you would ever admit. “i used to have a crush on you, back in hogwarts. i was sad when you left.”

remus smirked, the cigarette separating from his lips before he responded.

“i know, the twins told me some weeks ago, before one of the meetings.” he confessed, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “they said you cried.”

a deep blush crept into your cheeks, and a intense feeling of embarrassment settled in your stomach. you left the tea on the counter, and covered your face.

“oh for merlin's sake, i can't believe they told you.” your hands left your face and you stared at the floor for a second.

“if it makes you feel better, i already knew.” remus said, finishing his cigarette.

you stared at him in disbelief.

“since when?” you asked, feeling like you could die of embarrassment.

“since the day you had detention with me.” he answered, calmly. “it is true? you cried?” remus curiosity won over him.

you sighed, defeated.

“yes, i cried.” your words were shy, but then you became a little confident. “fred and george told me snape was the one that made you quit, so he became my pranks target and i got a lot of detention time.”

remus laughed, and that made you blush even more and your heartbeat raised to the ceiling. he finished his coffee and spoke.

“i pity him, i wouldn't dare to provoke the rage of a young woman.” remus answered. “even less yours.”

“why-...?” you were about to grab your cup of tea again as you responded but his hand moved to the kitchen counter counter in that exact moment, meeting your hand with his.

when your hands touched, it felt like a shock of electricity running through your whole body. you instantly pulled back from his contact, looking at the floor.

feeling like you had your heart stuck in your throat, an inevitable realization came to you like a rush of adrenaline. you were too far gone for this to be only a crush. you've spent two years loving him endlessly, and now that you were with him you could only wonder if you would've kept loving remus like this if the twins hadn't recruited you, and he weren't beside you in this exact moment.

the typical boldness that layed on your chest had left you for a moment and you needed to take a deep breath. when the words came to you, they were far more brave that you could ever imagine.

“what if this crush never faded?” your voice trembled for a second. “what if it became worse?”

remus sighed and took his hand to your chin and forced you to look a him in the eyes in a sweet gesture.

“we can't, i'm too old for you.” he said, almost in a whisper.

“i never cared about that.” you answered in a heartbeat.

“well, i do care. it's not only the age, it's-...” he made a brief pause. “i'm dangerous, (y/n). im not good for you at all.”

“i don't care, remus. i'm not scared of you.” you moved closer, you could be in front of him.

remus was taller than you, a detail that never failed to make you weak before him. you looked up at his eyes.

“you don't even know me properly.” his voice sounded a bit shaky.

“i never thought i did, yet i always had the desire to do so.” everything he had to said, you've already had thought an argument ages ago thinking of all the things he could say if this situation happened.

and you never thought it would, but luckily the gods or whatever above heard the constant plea of your heart.

“i can't keep a job because i'm a werewolf, (y/n) please think of what you're saying for a second-...” you interrupted him.

“you could say your face will turn green every night and i wouldn't care. please, just give me one chance.” you said, almost in a whisper. a sweet plea for him to spare your heart.

remus thought you were a beautiful woman, brave, ambitious and oddly astute. an intelligence made for chaos and not exactly for books, but he knew better than to ruin you and in his eyes just even trying to date you would feel like setting on fire to your promising life.

he was a monster, fearful that his lycanthropy could hurt you or affect you forever, not to mention he was frightened that his children could end up being cursed like him.

but then he looked at you, so willing to have him, so in love and he felt his heart melting.

maybe you could try, right? just a try.

“i-...” remus began to say. “i think we can try.”

you sighed in relief as you got closer to him, your chest almost touching his.

his smell clouded your mind the same way it did years ago and you knew in your insides that if you someone put amortentia in fron of you, you would feel his scent as you once did: chocolate, parchment, coffee, old book pages. the smell of autumn itself.

his eyes, his voice, his smell, all of him provoked your chest to feel like it was about to explode, enchanting your mind like if some sort of love spell was being casted on your soul.

and now, he was yours. all yours.

one of your wildest dreams came true, and you knew your heart needed to seal the moment the best way you could. there was a gift, an offering to be made at the altar of your love.

there was something you never dared to give anyone else before, because no man was like him.

“you know, i saved something special for a moment like this.” the confession came out of your lips as you grabbed his face to lure him like a beautiful nymph and make him lean into your direction.

and even if he didn't say anything. your words hit remus straight on the face, twisting his guts and he just couldn't believe how nervous he was.

when his eyes looked at you as you grabbed his face and got closer, to him you looked divine just as a superior being could be.

in the moment you kissed him, it was a sweet kiss that made remus shiver from head to toe and take his hands to your waist almost like if you were made of glass.

the first time you kissed someone and it was him. it felt like you were putting a blessing on his soul, fixing even if it was just fo a second, the damage of his eternal curse.

remus wondered if he was the one who would fell in love deeper, noticing the control you had over him just with a kiss, how he suddenly could fall to his knees if you asked.

the soft exchange between your lips ended when a voice interrupted you both.

“for merlin's beard, moony.” sirius voice spoke from the doorframe. as remus avoided his look ashamed, you looked at him a bit irritated for interrupting. “don't look at me like that, (y/n). i didn't expected to find people kissing inside my kitchen when i came here to drink water.” he smirked, mocking you both

after a couple of seconds you laughed at his words, and remus followed you. the first fifteen minutes into this uncommon thing you had and you were already laughing at sirius together.

remus felt relieved and for a moment he believed that any difficulties you could have, you'll both be able to work it out together.

maybe it didn't matter if he was a werewolf or if you were this younger, or if he was frightened to hurt you.

because maybe remus wasn't as cursed as he thought.

i hope you enjoyed this, i spent DAYS writing it and im glad i got to release it for halloween!!! xoxo.

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mrshowlettsgarden · 5 months ago

Text

Cherry Kisses - Logan Howlett: the one where he gets distracted from your ranting

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ content warning: fluff, make out session, god bless this hunk of a man

─➭ take a walk in the greenhouse (master list)

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

Logan lets out a frustrated groan as he stands out on the balcony leading to the back of the mansion. “These damn shitass kids…,” he sighs aggressively as he pulls out a cigar and begins to light it.

He’s been teaching history to the students for years now and he still can’t get used to teaching the students. He doesn’t know how Charles, Storm, and you do it so easily - near effortlessly - and you have been teaching longer than him despite the fact he’s been living for almost 200 fucking years.

He lets out a puff from the cigar and blows it out to the air above him as he basks in the quietness of the outside. Everyone left for the evening since it’s a Friday night but Logan chooses peace and silence.

And peace and quiet is what it is now. But there’s one more thing he needs in his arms and it’s-

“What has Charles told you about smoking here, my love?”

Ah…the only woman in the damned world that has kept him sane is here. You’re always there when he needs you the most.

His wife…

Logan turned around to find you standing tall and all in your glory. You have your arms crossed over your chest with your hip popped out and a faux serious look on your face.

“Seriously, Lo. After 10 years, you still haven’t broken the habit. Even just for a couple of hours during the day,” you exaggerate with a laugh.

Logan has a soft smile on his face as he listens to you rant about his smoking habit as he continues to take puffs out of the cigar. He was supposed to break the addiction a long time ago but he stopped listening to you rant once his eyes fell to your glossy lips.

Wonder what flavor it is…

“You also still leave ashes along the railing and it leaves burn marks.”

You’re still ranting with no true seriousness behind it but it still doesn’t hurt to keep trying to talk him out of smoking. Charles has threatened Logan that he’ll turn him into a six year old girl for smoking while he was using Cerebro. As you were about to go in that particular rant your words were caught in your throat when you noticed him stalking towards you with a curious but dazed look on his face.

You huff, “Logan, are you even trying to listen to - mph!”

Asshole, cut you off with a kiss but who are you to break that kiss? What kind of loving wife would you be and not enjoy the kiss?

You feel one of his hands cup your jaw to keep you close with his free muscled arm wrapped around your waist. You moan into his mouth when he pulls you tighter in his embrace. Your hands clutch his gray flannel as you try to ground yourself but he makes it so hard to do so, especially when he nearly whimpers in your mouth.

After what felt like a blissful eternity, Logan is the first to pull away still holding you firm against his body. You're both softly panting into each other's mouths trying to catch your breath.

“Wha-what was that for?” you breathlessly giggle, “Are you trying to shut me up?”

“Cherry,” he mumbles a whisper against your lips, “Fuck - your lips taste like cherry, baby.”

“Oh…,” you mumble as he continues to barely touch your lips with his. You feel an ache between your legs and you want more from his teasing. “I-I got it a couple days ago… You like it?”

He answers you with a softer kiss followed by another one and another then one more.

“I love it, baby,” a kiss.

“Fuck, gimme more, yeah?”, another kiss.

“My pretty wife…”

And another kiss…

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan x professor!reader #logan howlett x wife!reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine fluff #wolverine x female reader #wolverine xmen #logan howlett fluff #james logan howlett

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rafescvntyclubgf · 6 months ago

Text

"𝐘𝐨𝐮" - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐩 | 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 | 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 | 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬

*Rafe is in his 40s

𝖈𝖔-𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍: @nadvs

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝓌𝑜

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️warnings contain spoilers ⚠️

Stalker!Rafe, Perv!Rafe, reader is Rafe’s friend’s sister, swearing, Rafe is a perv, age gap, public masterbation, fantasies about the reader, blood, mentions of murder, mentions of gun violence, mentions of general violence, suicide attempt, Rafe goes through her phone, peeping Tom, steals nude pictures, watches the reader masterbate, praise, Rafe’s POV

📖 College Professor Rafe Cameron has been dating you for months. You just don’t know it yet.💋

🔪 I smile when you look over your shoulder, the light pouring in from outside the lecture shining on you like a beacon. A fuckin’ angel on earth. My girl. 🔪

🔪Hello, You.🔪

6.8 K

Rafe’s POV:

“Oh, shit.” I look out on the lecture hall, crammed wall to wall—mostly old birds and a few young professors sprinkled amongst the AARP members. Jesus Christ. I match the eyes of one of my old lecturers from my time here. She gives me a little smile, and I nod, making a blush creep across her wrinkled cheeks before the lights fall low.

Do I deserve my name on a plaque on an office door at this fine university? Absolutely fucking not. But I paid for the building after all… American History; all first-years. You can’t mess that shit up.

I relax into the wall a bit, accepting my fate, lifting my coffee to my lips, taking a sip. “R.” I hear a familiar voice. A couple of heads turn toward me, leading me to a familiar face. I smile and chuckle as I shuffle toward the aisle, scooching through the crowd.

“Hey, man,” I greet him, shaking his hand before slipping my leather bag off my shoulders, taking a seat.

“R.C.,” he breathes, surprised to see me here, happy nonetheless.

“Zachary.”

“Guess they're hiring anyone these days,” he taunts, jabbing me in the side playfully, making me snort out a lazy laugh. I can’t lie; I’m happy to see him here. One friend is plenty. The guy is a fuckin’ nerd, but he’s a good person. “Pretty sure we both had class in this lecture hall,” he sighs blissfully, recalling a simpler time.

“Yeah, man. I think we did… How long have you been workin’ here for?” I ask between sips of coffee.

“Ten years.”

“Jesus, man,” I huff. We've been outta school for that long, huh?

“Nah, buddy,” he groans. “Longer. Started working here right after graduation. Been workin’ my way up the ladder ever since.”

“That’s great,” I nod, watching our Dean of Students strut across the hall's main floor. “You like it here?”

“Love it,” he smiles. “Why are you here?” Zach furrows his brows, asking the question he wanted to ask from the beginning. It’s no secret I got money to spare. There’s gotta be some reason I’m here. I’m sure he’s curious.

“I got bored. Thought I’d go back to school; just did it casually. N’here I am.”

“Here you are,” he echos through a weak laugh. “I mean, you own the place at this point. Huh?” Zach wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

“Almost,” I chuckle, fully aware that the Cameron Library and The Cameron School of Business makes this current faculty position a little absurd.

“Glad to have you here. Truly,” he adds earnestly.

“Good to be here, man,” I smile as I relax into my seat a little more, getting ready for a day of gettin’ talked at, I’m sure. Zach adjusts in his seat, pulling his phone out of his slacks, thumbing over his messages.

Sis: Did you want anything to eat?

Zach: Nah. I’m fine.

Sis: Sounds good. Black coffee, two creams, two sugars?

Zach: Please and thank you.

“So…” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “Do you have any family here? You married or what-” I question, trying to be as calm as possible.

“Nah… Not really the marriage type. Family, yeah, my sister goes here now.”

”No shit?” I ask, trying not to be too interested, but I can’t help but catch his lock screen. Him and an absolutely stunning woman posed next to each other in front of the Golden Pavilion in Kyoto. They weren’t cuddled up with each other, just smiling… That smile. I run my hands down my shirt, smoothing out any wrinkles, raking my fingers through my hair, pushing it back slightly. Please be her.

“She’s a Kappa Girl.”

“Not a Kappa Girl,” I taunt through an exaggerated groan. He scoffs and rolls his eyes away. If it was anything like it was back in the day that house in nothin’ short of a brothel.

“She isn’t like that, Cameron,” he drones. “She doesn’t even live at the house. She’s got good grades. Like good good. Fuckin’ great actually—above a 4.0. They recruited her. The Kappas took some heat after gettin’ in trouble a few too many times. They were gonna lose their charter, so they switched from a social sorority to one based in education. Fuckin’ nerds,” he adds, making me chuckle, dissing her just like I had dissed him just a few short minutes before.

“Runs in the family. Huh?”

“Fuck off,” he snickers. Zach hangs his head low, pitching the bridge of his nose as he lets out an exhausted sigh.

“You good?”

He nods and yawns, eyes set on the speaker up front. “These old bitches can go fuckin’ hard. We went to Lord Fletcher’s last night. Janice over there can drink you under the table… Six advils today already. Y/n is comin’ over with a coffee for me. Thank god. I’m hurtin’ over here,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Zach’s eyes brighten as he looks toward the lecture steps. I feel my heart racing in my chest, my palms sweating, almost too nervous to look. I mean, that could have been his ex-girlfriend. But what if it’s the best-case scenario? What if it’s her? What if she’s you, princess? I turn my attention to the end of the aisle, watching that same girl shuffle along the line of people, clutching coffees, doing her best not to spill.

Fuck me.

My eyes travel up your body, your bare legs on full display, making my stomach fill with butterflies. You lean in, your sweet perfume amplified by the warmth of your flawless body from the late August heat. The second the coffee leaves your hand, I’m trying to get your attention on me. “I’m Rafe,” I smile, extending my hand toward you.

You juggle your books and your own coffee in your hands clumsily, extending a hand as well, making me instantly feel bad for putting you through the hassle, but the contact is worth it— soft and smooth, a firm grip on mine. You bat your long lashes at me. I can’t tell if you’re just trying to get a better look in the dim light or if you like what you see, but my heart is racing regardless.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rafe,” you reply, talking directly to me… “See you at home,” you whisper to Zach, who gives you a little wave as he swipes through his phone again. I smile when you look over your shoulder, the light pouring in from outside the lecture shining on you like a beacon. A fuckin’ angel on earth. My girl.

Hello, you.

It’s been sixty-seven days since we met—sixty-seven beautiful days of studying my favorite subject. You’re lovely, princess. Everything about you is. Even the little things you do out of habit. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re stressed, lips pursed, eyes wide. I know every look, every smile, taking each beautiful change of your face into memory. I can read you like a book.

I wanted it to be natural. How blatantly obvious would it be if I rushed into rekindling a friendship with your brother just to rush into a relationship with you? I had to ease in. Infiltrate the family; make myself a staple in your home so I could learn more about you.

There’s no one else better suited for you than me, baby. There is no one that will anticipate your needs like I can. Take care of you like I will. I’m going to make my move… I just need a little more time. I don’t want to lose the part of you that I get to see when you don’t know I’m watching.

I tilt back, relaxing into the doorframe of Zach’s office as I wait for you to stop by with his lunch. You’re so sweet. I know you’re cuttin’ it close with you’re next class. Fuck, my girl’s thoughtful. I smile to myself, lowering my head to not bring too much attention to myself.

“Who’s got you smilin’ like that, buddy?”

Shit. I look down at the phone, thumbing out of your Instagram, moving to Tinder. “Uh, I just matched with that bartender at Lord Fletchers. I think,” I mumble, giving him a slight smile.

“Juliette?” He asks surprisedly. “Isn’t she datin’ the head football coach?”

My stomach sinks, caught in a simple, stupid lie. “Nah, not her. A different one. I don’t know,” I brush him off, furthering my disinterest by pretending to swipe through some more.

Oh, shit. Here you come. I lift my eyes, matching yours. Your smile doubles as I catch your attention. “Hi, Rafe,” you sing. My name rolling off your lips so sweetly. Oh my god.

“Hi, y/n,” I respond warmly. Your hand snakes around my waist, squeezing me. “You ready for that test tomorrow?”

You sucks your teeth and shake your head. “Not ready enough to go on a date tonight, I don’t think. But I haven’t gone out in so long… I think it would be good for me to give my brain a rest the night before, don’t you?” You ask as your stunning eyes soften on mine, looking up at me for approval as I try my best not to fall apart in front of you or, at the very least, lose my shit. How did I miss this?

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I press the words past my lips. You smile and nod before setting the food down on the desk. “Well, I gotta run-”

”See you tonight?” I add hastily, trying to get more info about your plans just in case.

“We got that intramural basketball game tonight,” Zach reminds me, making my palms sweat just knowing that if the date is early enough, I won’t be able to tag along or intervene.

“Chett said 9 PM at Little Angie’s.”

“Chett? As in Chett Ryan?” I ask in disbelief as you mention the star quarterback. A good-looking dude, but he’s a fucking idiot and a Grade-A asshole. You’re way too good for him. He doesn’t deserve you. Doesn’t even deserve to breathe your air-

“Yeah,” you answer through a smile, yanking me out of my thoughts.

“Well, I’m goin’ to Lexi’s house, so you and Chett will have the place to yourselves if you wanna come back after the bar,” Zach chimes in. My body trembles with rage, holding back every urge to crawl over the top of his desk and choke him out for even suggesting it.

“It’s our first date, so I don’t know if that’ll happen but thank you,” you smiles giddily, making me physically ill. ”Shit,” you hiss, your attention pulled to your watch, clocking the time. “I’m gonna be late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Rafe, for the test,” you add breathlessly as you race away, fleeing for class.

“You proctoring tests now?” Zach laughs lightly, furrowing his brows.

“Ah, yeah,” I whirr, scratching at my 5 o’clock shadow, trying to find an excuse while also trying to gather my emotions as my whole world crumbles around me. “I-I owed Steve a favor for covering my class last week,” I stutter, confessing half the truth. Sure, Steve subbed for me, but only so I could follow y/n on her trip to Georgia Tech for the football game to ensure she was safe… Zach should be thanking me, honestly. Fuck off. The football game… I bite at the skin on my lip, putting together the pieces of why you had even gone in the first place. For him. For Chett… No, baby. Why?

“Cameron?” Zach chimes in. “You’re a little more dazed than usual, friend. You good?” He asks through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, man. I’m good,” I nod. “It’s only a few hours.”

“What?” Zach asks confusedly.

“Proctoring…”

”Yeah…” He nods, his face laced with concern for me; I don’t even know how long I was drowning in my thoughts of her. I’m sure he’s wondering what’s going through my mind— why I’m acting weird. “You sure you're good? You seem upset.”

”Nah, man. I’m good. Just have some shit goin’ on I need to take care of,” I smile softly. “See you tonight?”

“Yeah… See you tonight, brother.”

“These are nice,” I breathe as I run my fingers along the pink petals with a smile, the spray of roses sitting pretty amongst the rest. “These, thanks.” I pull them out, handing them to the attendant, finishing into my back pocket for my wallet.

I head out the door, walking out onto the street; the busy college town teaming with students, pouring in and out of the bars. Cigarette smoke wafts all around, competing with the aroma of the late-night food trucks. I look ahead, catching the Little Angie’s neon boot sign kicking ahead. My excitement builds as I get closer and closer. You’re here. I look down at my phone, catching your location in the heart of the bar—my girl.

Shit. I look down at my other hand, tossing the wildflowers Chett had gotten you. He doesn’t know you at all… He doesn't know what you like. He doesn't deserve you. No one does. No one but me.

I push through the front door, heading back toward the bar as I match your pin to my surroundings. My eyes pull taunt as I try to spot you through the thick crowd. I take a seat, ordering a beer before turning my attention back to the search. My eyes work across the low-lit room, scouring for you. I can’t believe you’re still here after he stood you up. It’s almost like you knew I’d come and save you, princess.

There you are. Fuck, are you even real?

When I’m around you I swear I forget how to breathe. I find myself having to tear myself away—telling myself that staring too hard will do nothing but bring attention to the obvious, but I am so in love. How do I even look away? You’re perfect.

You looks sad. I know that’s my fault, pretty girl, but I promise I’ll make it all better. You rest your cheek in your hand, slumped over in your seat, swirling your vodka cranberry defeatedly. Your beautiful eyes glisten. I can’t tell if it’s just sheer beauty or if they might be glossed with tears. Your eyes shut heavily, shoulders relaxing a little more as you submit to your drunken state.

Oh, sweetheart. You need me.

“Can I close out my tab?” I ask the bartender, who gives me a little nod and a smile. I turn my attention back to you, watching as you sway ever so slightly with the music pouring from the speakers.

“Here you are, sir,” the bartender calls. I turn fast, scribbling a tip and a total. My stomach falls as I pull my hand away, leaving behind a red thumbprint, remnants of my run-in with Chett lingering. Fuck. I grab the slip of paper off the bar top, brushing my hand along my dark-wash jeans, thumbing through my wallet to grab some cash instead, tossing a tip on the counter in exchange. I push off the bar, walking toward my girl, checking myself as best as I can in the darkness to make sure that I don’t miss anything else, catching a few specks of blood on my white shirt. Shit. I grab the zipper of my quilted jacket, hiding the mess.

What was I thinking? I was so excited about gettin’ to you that I didn’t even think about cleanin’ up. I look down at my right hand: split knuckles, bloodied and bruised. I tug down my sleeve, just praying there isn’t any more I can’t see. “Y/n?”

Your eyes lift to mine, softening and welling with tears. “Rafey,” you slur out a whimper, eyes pinching shut. Your tears tumble down your cheeks as you try to get out your next few words to no avail.

”What’s goin’ on, princess?” I ask gently as I sit beside you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“Ugh…” You humpfs. “I got stood up.” You hiccup before rolling your eyes in annoyance with Chett and your own emotions. “I can’t believe I’m even cryin’ over him, Rafey. I know he’s an asshole.” You cry, making my heart melt as you use that little nickname not once but twice.

“He is,” I laugh lightly, making you nod and sigh.

“Are you… M’shit. I’m sorry,” you mumble. “M’kinda drunk.”

“Hey. Hey. It’s alright,” I coo.

“Are you meeting a date?” You ask, and I swear I can see a new sort of sadness in your eyes at the idea of it. I follow your gaze, eyeing the arrangement of roses in my hand.

“Oh, me?” I stall. “Uh… No. I-uh… I came in here after our game. I saw you hangin’ out here for a while. Kinda put two-and-two together. N’when I went outside to have a cig, I bought them off some guy on the street.” I look back to you, my whole story all for not as you practically fall asleep at the table, your beautiful face propped up and smushed in your hand. “Bought them for you, honey,” I sigh blissfully as I use a pet name I've always wanted to use knowing tomorrow it wouldn't matter.

“Thank you, Rafey,” you whisper. Three times… “So - So… So good to me.”

“Let’s get you outta here. Huh?” I ask as I reach into my wallet, pulling out a hundred, tossing it on the table. You close your eyes and nod your heavy head.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” I breathe as I scoop my hand around your waist, lifting you to your feet. You melt into me, resting your head on my chest, snuggling in. I can’t help but lean down, pressing a kiss on your hair. I breathe you in, relishing this simple moment with you. “I love you, princess…” You look up at me, smiling sweetly. I hold my breath, even if you heard me say that there’s no way you’ll remember tomorrow. But still…

“Can we get pizza?” You ask, making me laugh.

“Anything you want you get, sweetheart.”

I know there’s nothing more to worry about, but I can’t help but get a little jealous knowing you dressed this way for Chett. You sway to the music on your record player, drunkenly singing along to the track between bites of pizza. You’re happier than when you were at the bar; your sadness before I came is long gone. You flash me a smile, setting my heart ablaze, pointing at me playfully as you circle your hips to the beat, dropping it to the floor, showing me the perfect glimpse of your plump ass. Fuck me. I bare with the pain, not wanting to make it blatantly obvious that my cock is strained in my pants.

“Help me?” You pout as you walk to me, lifting your hands in the air.

”With what…” My voice trails away as you step even closer. Your tits line up with my eyes from my seated position on the foot of your bed. My hands instinctively reach up, resting on your hips, testing the waters.

“Pajamas.”

“Oh - Oh. Of course,” I stammer as I lift your shift dress over your head. I hold back a moan, my head and mind racing out of control as I stand this close to you, the girl of my dreams in nothing but your bra and panties. And not just any panties, the panties I had taken from you last week. The panties I had wrapped around my cock that I had cum all over more times than I could count. Of course, I washed them and put them back, but what luck. It’s fate. Just stay calm.

You lets out a sleepy little yawn, stretching slightly, your back arching. Your cleavage pops a little more against the dainty lace; my eyes strain as I refuse to blink. I run my hand down your side, watching as goosebumps spread across your bare skin at my touch. Your nipples peak, teasing me under the barely-there fabric.

Help her, Rafe. I swallow hard, focusing on the task at hand, fighting back everything that I want to do. You move a little closer, slotting yourself between my thighs. I know it will be over if I look up and match your eyes. You’ll be too embarrassed in the morning if I do anything more—if I do what I need. I can feel your eyes on me. Your hand moves higher and higher, your soft touch cupping my chin, guiding my eyes to yours.

Holy shit. You smile down at me, your eyes hazed with lust and liquor. You run your thumb along my bottom lip, biting your own. I’m dreaming. I have to be. “Thank you,” you smile, your voice coming out so crisp and clear. This is no dream… This is just heaven on earth. Deep breath. Help her get into her pajamas and let her sleep it off. Tomorrow. If she genuinely wants me now, she’ll want me tomorrow. She needs me. Her trust is in me. I can’t mess this up. I need her too badly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” I whisper, allowing myself to drink you in a little more. I mean, I don’t want you to think I am not thoroughly enjoying this… This is the best moment of my life. Of course, after meeting her, that is.

I reach over on the bed, grabbing your satin pajama top. You take a little breath, going to say something, holding back, settling on a smile instead. I bet you were gonna ask for something from me. Probably wanting me to take off that pretty little bra of yours instead of giving her clothes to put on. I want to be your knight in shining armor tonight. I want to protect you; I want to keep you safe.

Tomorrow night, princess. I promise.

I’m addicted. I’m down bad. I’m in way, way too deep, but I can’t stop. I’ll never stop. You have no clue what you do to me. You have no idea how much time I have invested in you— in us. I have never been more fulfilled, princess. This is my destiny. You are mine; you just don’t know it yet…

You smile at me sheepishly, tucking some hair behind your ear before putting pen to paper and checking in for your test. You're hungover. I can tell—dark circles painted under your beautiful eyes, and the usual soft glow of your skin dimmed. You’re smart… You’ll have no problem taking this test, and if you do, it’s nothing I can’t fix for you.

You walk over to a locker, stripping off your purse and jacket, checking your phone before stuffing it inside as well. Holy shit… You shut the door, forgoing the lock altogether. Fuck, you’re too good to me, sweetheart. I’m sure you want me to take a peek. Don’t you? A smirk tugs on my lips, arms crossing over my chest as I stare you down.

You stride toward me, shoulders slumped. I’m sure you’re gonna apologize. I smile at you, wordlessly telling you I know what you’ll will say. You laugh weakly, letting out a deep, self-deprecating sigh. “Sorry about last night, Rafe. Thank you,” you smile sweetly, your voice just above a hush, not wanting anyone else to hear.

“You’re alright, Y/n. Glad I could get you home. Are you feelin’ alright?” I ask as I step a little closer.

“M’a little hungover,” you sigh. “I—I never get like that, I swear-”

“I know you don’t,” I stop you. Your brows rumple, my tone a little more knowing than you expected. ”Your brother mentioned you don’t really drink like that,” I correct myself, and you smile.

“Well, I’ll see you later, Rafe. Thank you.” You reach out, giving my bicep a squeeze that has my eyes darting to your hand on me. Oh fuck. You're walking toward the testing room before I can look up at you again. The door fans shut behind you, leaving me alone with the equivalent of your fuckin’ teenage diary. Everything I could want to know about you that I don’t know yet is on here. Please be unlocked.

“Shit,” I hiss, slamming my fist against the locker, eyes darting around fast as the sharp sting of regret pierces through me at my outburst. Pull it together, Cameron. I close my eyes, doing my best to compose myself as I tuck your phone at my side, walking back toward the desk. I look at you through the privacy glass. My girl is none the wiser—I smile as you answer the next question. Her birthday. Keep it simple. That's gotta be it. It’s not like she's got shit to hide.

I type in the six-digit code, my tension melting away; shoulders relaxing as I crack the code without any effort at all. Gotta hit the big four: messages, search history, pictures, Instagram. Don't get too greedy. I feel my cock twitch at the thought of this being in your hand. My mind instantly sails away to the shit you looks at that you’d probably delete your search history for. Hopefully, I caught you on an off day. Focus. Focus. Focus. I look over my shoulder as you breeze past the next question.

Messages, first.

Nothing crazy. A few to her friends, her brother, and a lab partner. My blood turns cold as I see Chett’s name. I click into your messages, teeth grinding, fist clenching as I read through the exchange.

Chett: you free tonight?

Y/n: I have a huge test tomorrow I'm sorry! Friday?

Chett: yeah we can do something on Friday too

Chett: cmon pretty. I owe you a beer

Y/n: just a beer? 😉

Chett: fuck… that's a yes?? Lets go to dinner then I owe you so so much

Y/n: I can't be out late tho

Chett: I know. I got you. I'm lucky ok. I know how you are.

Y/n: what does that mean?? 😂

Chett: your a good girl

Chett: i’ll meet you a little angies at 8. I've got workouts late ok??

Y/n: okay 💕

Chett: you better not stand me up

Y/n: never ☺️

Chett: on my way

Y/n: I'm at the bar

Y/n: found a table. We still on for 8?

Y/n: ???

Y/n: are you okay?

Y/n: just ran into your buddies. They said you ran into Kenzie on the street. Just fuck off alright? Why would you ask me out if you two were still a thing?

Y/n: I knew you were an asshole

Okay. Okay. Shit. My hands tremble as I read and reread your words. Just a clusterfuck of feelings seeing you this excited, this angry; this upset over that asshole. He ran into Kenzie? I'm sure they caught up. I'm sure he had second thoughts about your date. About you? How could someone have second thoughts about you? I knew I did you a favor.

I click into the search history. Cleared. God damnit. That leaves two more pieces to the puzzle. Instagram and pictures. I pull up your socials, thumbing to the shit only I get to see. The DMs are the same as your texts; it's nothing crazy. Search bar… I click into it, seeing your recent searches. Chett… You motherfucker. Haunting me, you goddamn dick- Oh…

Rafe Cameron

I blink a few times, pinching my eyes closed before fluttering them open as I see MY name on YOUR screen. “No fucking way,” my voice comes out needy and hoarse, cracking with all the want I feel for you. I gasp for a breath, filling my lungs with needed air. How is this happening? I rub my hand across my mouth, snuffing out my smile. Jesus Christ. Best day of my fuckin’ life.

I look over my shoulder, praying I have enough time to browse your hidden folder in your camera roll. Five questions left. I open the folder, my hand instantly reaching for the edge of the desk, my rock-hard cock finally giving way as I cum in my slacks at the sight of you in lingerie. My heart pounds in my ears and chest as I thumb through the rest, watching in horror as a wet, warm spot forms on my khakis. Fuck. There’s five more pictures… My goddess. My fuckin’ princess… Look at you, baby. Two more questions left. Put the fuckin’ phone back, Rafe. The phone trembles as I unhide all five, moving quickly to your messages before typing in my number, sending them to myself, deleting everything fast. I swear I could’ve cum again just feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, knowing what I have saved for myself.

I swipe everything closed as I walk back to the locker bay, stuffing the phone inside your purse, slamming the door shut before the testing door swings open. I turn my body away, walking toward the exit, checking on a knock that never happened; turning my body in the opposite direction before matching your eyes. “So, how did it go?” I smile, positioning myself so you can’t see the absolute mess you caused.

“Good, actually,” you sighs, relief laced in your tone and demeanor as you pop open your locker. I step behind the desk, leaning into the counter just enough to ensure that my little secret is safe.

Good girl.

I swear I can’t go to bed without my nightly ritual; I stand outside your window, hidden just out of view, cloaked in the darkness of the hedges gathered around the perimeter of your apartment. Some nights I have the pleasure of being in your space; other nights, I settle for the next best thing, but honestly, even here is paradise.

Some nights, you stay up late, the apples of your cheeks glowing in the dim of your room as you browse your phone; other nights, you moves through your apartment chatting on the phone with your friends, smiling and laughing, every fiber of my being just wishing it was me on the other line. But on special nights, nights like this, your hand slips into your night stand pulling out your favorite vibrator, playing with your pussy like I could only dream of doing.

I never get to see what goes on underneath the covers or hear the sweet noises you make, but I get to see the pleasure painted all over your face. I can’t help but pull my cock out of my pants, stroke my dick while you work on yourself. Are you thinking about me? I always dreamed you were, but after seeing your search history, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. What if you're saying my name? My beautiful girl.

“Fuck, baby,” I pant as you grab the covers, throwing them off your body, my precum mixing with my sweaty palm as I take in the sight before me. I watch as the silicon cock glistens with your slick, making me spit on my dick to mirror the sight. My fist works over my dick, whimpering and moaning your name as I keep your pace. My thigh muscles tremble as I fixate on your every movement.

I know I should walk away, but there’s no force on this earth strong enough to pull me away from this. I bite my lip as you throw your head back into your pillow, back arching off the mattress.

And just like that, I fall deeper and deeper into my mind. “Where are we fuckin’ tonight, princess?” I mumble, envisioning us in the same room. “My office? Fuck, you’re bad, sweetheart? You sure? Sure you can’t wait until we get home? God damn, angel. You need it that bad? Need daddy’s dick right here, right now?” I moan as my muscles clench tight.

I swear I draw blood, pinching my bottom lip between my teeth as you drag your hand up, pulling your shirt with it, exposing your perfect breasts. You squeeze and twist your nipple, circling softly just like I would. “My lips will be on you, I swear to Christ,” I moan, picturing my parted lips sucking down on your tits; catching your breasts in my mouth as they bounce.

“Stop hidin’, honey,” I grunt as your legs draw closer, and I swear you heard me because your thighs widen on the mattress, splaying out for me and only me. What I wouldn't pay to bury myself in your cunt, princess. I’ve sucked on your panties more times than I can count; memorized your taste. I need the real thing. I wanna feel the warmth of your body against me, tongue pumping in and out of that tight little hole of yours.

Your mouth falls open, chest heaving, muffled cries heard through the glass. Just a whisper, but my ears have never been more blessed. I look down at my cock for a split second, just enough time to run some spit down on my throbbing head, making me hiss out a breath. I make a tight fist, imagining myself sinking into your slick pussy as you lay on a pile of my class papers, a little pleated skirt riding up around your waist, your wet cunt just begging for me to fill it, sucking me in.

“Such a sloppy cunt. Fuck… Perfect for me,” I mutter, returning my eyes to you, watching as your arousal leaks out of your pussy as you continue to stroke, dirtying the sheets below. I run my hand across my sweaty forehead, slicking back my bangs in the process, switching my hold to my balls to play with them, trying desperately to cum with you for your second time. “Slow down, Y/n… Shittt. Pussy’s too good. You wanna come with daddy. Don't you? Yeah you do. Atta baby.”

Another muffled moan bleeds through the glass. I need to hear you. Fuck, I need to know what you sound like. I release my cock with a panting gasp, fumbling for the glass, resting my clammy palms against it as I hold my breath, cracking it ever so slightly. There we go. I move even closer, resting a hand on the brick wall, eyes rolling back in my skull as I wrap my fingers around my girthy dick again.

��Rafe…” She pants, and my eyes double, stomach falling, breath fleeing my chest, drowning in my own pleasure as my name leaves your lips. Say it again. Fucking say it, baby. Tears of joy fill my eyes as warmth spreads from my head to my toes.

I listen closely, catching the sounds of your sopping core squelching through your room, cries and sighs of pleasure coming back to back as I bite my shirt, holding back my own. “Just like that, Rafey. Fuckkk, daddy. I’m cumming,” you cry in a throaty, fucked-out voice that has me cumming harder than I ever have in my life, ropes, and ropes of cum painting the brick wall of your apartment building as I watch your finish.

I look down in exhaustion as my cum rolls down the wall, before closing my eyes in utter bliss, just imagining it leaking out of your cunt. My goddamn pussy. “Tomorrow-” I pant as I lift my trembling hand, pointing my cum-coated finger against the glass with a smug smile that I wish you could see. “M’taking you out and then we’re comin’ back here and I’m going to make every one of your fantasies come true, honey. M’gonna be all you need. I swear,” I coo.

I watch you as you lay there, hands trailing your beautiful body, calming yourself down with touch. You're lonely, baby. You don't need to be… Let me take care of you. You let out a sleepy yawn, stretching out on the mattress.

“Fuck,” I grumble, post-nut clarity setting in as I realize what the fuck I just did, regretting none of it, just hoping that someone didn’t see me. The street is empty. Just perfect. I grab my boxers, pulling them up as you tuck your toy into your nightstand, fastening my pants as you snuggle into your sheets.

No.

Your eyes lock with mine, and with that, time stands still. My heart hammers in my chest as your expression changes from confusion to terror. You let out a blood-curdling scream as I try to pull myself away, but I’m frozen with fear. Run. Fuck! You fumble for your phone as I walk away from the window, my eyes never leaving you until I’m falling back on the curb, struggling to my feet, sprinting as fast as my feet will take me.

“I’ve ruined everything. What the hell have I done?” My heart shatters into a million pieces as I run down the block, charging toward my car as I fight my keys out of my pocket. Tears and snot wet my face, my whole body sheened with sweat, shivering with adrenaline. ”Not only am I going to lose her, but I’m gonna lose everything else. My job. My reputation. Everything. Fucking everything.” I slam my finger against the keyless start; engine roaring as I peel out onto the street, trying to put distance between me and you.

What the hell can I say to make this better? No one will understand. I can’t fucking help it. I can’t help who I am. I can’t help that I love you. That I want to keep you safe. Is that a crime? I’m obsessed with you. It’s like— I think about you all the time. Every second of my fucking life. But isn’t that what love should be like?

I let out a shaky breath, catching my reflection in the rearview mirror, my cheeks soaked with tears, eyes glassy with emotion. If I can’t have you, I don’t want to live. I don’t… I-I can’t. My foot slams on the gas, barreling down the freeway toward the bridge, watching as the needle on the speedometer climbs higher and higher as cars swerve and dart out of my path.

What is the point if I can’t have you?

I’m nothing without you.

My knuckles ghost white, as I blink the tears out of my eyes, sobbing like a child as the speedometer blasts past 100. I feel the dismare in my heaving chest plaguing me like a virus, the only warmth in my heart gone now that I’ve lost you. Just fucking empty—goddamn hollow. The only thing I’ve ever truly wanted is gone. You were the best thing that has ever been mine and I didn’t even get to tell you… I lift my hand to wipe away the tears as the road blurs before me.

Days of watching you, not one moment forgotten. I was almost a part of your world. Why did I wait so long? Why did I wait until it was too late? You were saying my name? You wanted me just as bad as I wanted you…

The world around me gets a little brighter as I pull onto the bridge, illuminated with streetlamps, before the world dives off into the dark waters below.

What if she feels guilt? What if she blames herself? What if this ruins hers too?

I thread through the gap of cars, vehicles slamming on their breaks around me, unable to swerve on the bridge like they were on the road before making every move sharper; more erratic—the line thinning, between life and death.

Maybe she’ll forgive me after I’m dead…

RING. RING. RING.

I look down at my phone, seeing your brother's name light up the screen. “Hello?” I choke the word out, biting my lips to hold back my sniffles and sobs as I speed closer and closer to the edge, waiting for him to blow out my speakers. ‘ASSHOLE. PERV. STALKER. PSYCHOPATH-’

“Hey, Rafe. You good, man?” He asks worriedly, his gentle voice pulling me out of the pit. My foot pulls off the glass as I’m hit with a sliver of hope, before slamming on the breaks. My tires screech as my car skids across the bridge, stomach falling as I get so close to the edge that the grille of my Cadillac kisses the guardrail, nothing but blackness and open water before me.

“M’Yeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

You dive into my arms, hands wrapped tightly around my waist as you bury your head in my chest. Your warm, wet tears soak through my shirt, blessing my skin as I hold you close. “Thank you so much for coming, Rafe,” you sniffle.

“Of course, Y/n,” I whisper as you tremble in my arms like a leaf. “Did you get a good look at him?”

You shake your head, letting out a frail little sigh. “No…”

“Go inside. Aight? You’ve been through enough. Let me check it out. I’ll be in in a second. Okay?” You nod, looking up at me with doe-eyes and a trembling lip. I cup your tear stained cheek in my hand, brushing your skin nice and soft. You tilt into me, needing me closer. “I’m sorry you went through this… But, it’s just some creep. I’m not gonna leave you tonight. I swear.”

“Thank you,” you whimper.

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

“Now, you, get inside and try to relax. Huh? It’ll only take me a second.” You nod and step inside, holding my hand until the last moment.

I walk down the stairs, strolling through the landscaping to your window. I suck my teeth, looking down at the stained brick before lifting my hand, running my thumb along my tongue, scrubbing the little cum mark I left with my finger. “All clear,” I whisper, smiling to myself as my night takes a turn for the better.

I walk up your steps, stepping into the apartment as you pour a glass of wine for you and I. “Thank you, Rafe. I’m so glad you’re here,” you smile, your voice weak as you walk toward me in your satin pajamas, passing me a glass.

“Call me anytime you need me. Okay?” I smile as I reach my hand out for you. You tangle your fingers in mine, moving a little closer, rising on your tippy toes, pressing a soft kiss on my cheek.

The two of us walk over to the couch, taking a seat. You snuggle into my chest just like you did at the bar. Your body relaxes in mine. The adrenaline and excitement of the night wears off fast, and it’s not long before your eyes start to beat closed. I don’t think I can sleep. I don’t want to. Truthfully, I could stay this way forever with you. Your soft sounds fill my ears as I focus on your breathing and the shape of your body in mine. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect moment with you, sweetheart. My girl. Mine. A satisfied smile plays on my lips as I reach over, flicking on the evening news.

“Hello, my name is Belle Lee, reporting live from the downtown district. An investigation is underway after a University student was found dead with multiple gunshot wounds. College officials have identified the victim as 22-year-old Chett Lee from Tampa Bay, Florida. This is an active investigation. Any tips or other information can be directed to the local authorities. Currently, there are no known suspects in this gruesome murder.”

A smirk pulls on my lips as I flick off the TV, darkness falling all around us. I lift you into my arms, holding you close, walking you to your room before setting you down on the mattress. I rub my thumb across you pillowy lips, not wanting to push it too far by kissing you goodnight. My belly stirs as I think about the cum I had just cleaned off the glass, any reminents now hanging on your perfect lips.

I’ll just have to settle for that tonight.

I stroke your hair gently, brushing it off your beautiful face. Just leave, Rafe… Just—I succumb to my urges, kissing your forehead instead, lingering as long as I possibly can before pulling away. Your eyes match mine, staring up at me.

“Stay.”

@nadvs it was so amazing brainstorming with you. I am such a fan of your work and you are such an amazing person 💕 thank you babe 😭.

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 13 days ago

Text

i dare you

a/n: for all of you hoes who are also hot for teacher, bon appetit, bitch ♡

summary: “no, I was thinking a little something else,” a mischievous grin slowly twisted up his lips, “how about, if we win, then you have to make a move on that professor,” he goaded, “but if you win, then we’ll–, I don’t know, what would you like?”

warnings: professor!peter parker x innocent!reader, smut, dark content, college au, polyamory, student/teacher relationship, forbidden romance, age gap, dilf!peter, babysitting, alcohol consumption, kissing, corruption kink, car sex, semi-public sex, voyeurism, panty sniffing, dirty talk, hair pulling, masturbation, fingering

word count: 3611

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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Staying back, you watched in your periphery as the other students slowly filtered out of the lecture hall, though your gaze stayed glued to the teacher as he packed up his things down by the wide chalkboard.

Professor Parker’s back was turned to you as you neared, and a murmur quickly rolled off your tongue, “professor, I just wanted to–,” but then as he whirled around, unaware of how close you had crept, his frame bumped directly into yours, and the half-empty cup of cold coffee in his grasp jostled in the clash and splashed down upon the both of you.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed as his eyes first flickered down to the large stain on his shirt before they blinked up to discover who was to blame.

“I am so sorry, oh no…” you gasped as you stared back at his ruined button-down, the sodden state of your own clothing not seeping through your guilt yet.

“It’s–,” the flash of anger that had momentarily sparked was swiftly squashed when his gaze fell upon you, “it’s alright,” he exhaled as his shoulders relaxed, “I have some spare clothes in my office.”

“Really?”

“Habit of being a dad,” he shrugged as he picked up his leather satchel, “this is not the first time I’ve spilt something on myself. Come, you can borrow one as well. I’m guessing you don’t want to walk around campus like that,” he faintly nodded to your t-shirt as his eyes fought not to stare.

“What?” you finally glanced down at yourself and noticed how the soaked coffee stain had turned the thin cotton of your shirt nearly transparent, “oh…” heat swiftly began to rise in your cheeks for a different reason other than just the mortification of the clumsy collision, “oh my god…”

Though you only shrugged on the button-down he handed you once you stepped inside of his office, merely covering up the sheer state of your shirt enough for you to get back to your dorm and change, your heart began to hammer in your chest as he absentmindedly stripped off his ruined shirt and didn’t realise what he had done till half of the buttons on the fresh one was fastened.

“So,” he swiftly cleared his throat as you struggled to blink away from the sliver of his chest that he hastily covered back up, “what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Hm?” you hummed, fearing drool might be leaking down your chin by now.

“When I walked into you,” he reminded your foggy head, “you started saying something, so what was it?”

“Oh, that…” an airy chuckle puffed out of your lungs as you averted your gaze, “it’s so silly now…” and you tugged open your backpack and reached into it before you uttered, “I know it’s cliche, but I brought you an apple…”

“Oh,” a smile warmed up the older man’s features as you plucked the fruit out of your bag and held it for him to grasp, “that’s cute.”

Once in his hand, he twisted around to place it delicately in the middle of the cluttered desk behind him.

“You know, now that you’re here,” he began before he turned back to face you, “I wanted to talk to you about maybe looking after Benjamin again.”

“I dare you.”

“What? No!” you shrieked at Andy as he cracked open another beer for himself, “he’s my professor!”

“So? That shouldn’t stop you,” he cocked a brow, “go ask Billy, he’s screwed more faculty members than I can recall,” he nodded to the frat guy currently propped up against the far side wall, chatting up some girl as the party buzzed around him, “come on, you said you have a crush on him.”

“Oh my god,” you swiftly buried your head in your hands, “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Well, then maybe don’t play truth or dare if you’re gonna be such a baby about the things you share,” he only chuckled in return.

Marc then draped an arm around your shoulders and boomed over the music, “you should go for it!”

“Stop, I’m not gonna seduce him,” you crawled out of hiding with a groan, “I’m not some siren.”

“No, but you are a hot little freshman, which is pretty damn close,” Marc smirked as you met his gaze.

A head then poked through the open doorway before it swivelled to find you, “hey, there you guys are,” Scott waved a hand, “we’re up.”

“Oh, finally,” Andy exhaled before you all began to shift into the room in the fraternity where the beer pong table was permanently set up in, “who won last round?”

“Curtis and Bucky,” Scott cocked his head as you settled in beside him on one end of the table while the two others migrated towards the opposite side.

“Aw, man…” Marc swiftly sighed, “they’re probably gonna take the crown again…”

And as you all prepared the table for another game, lining cups up in triangles on either end, Andy’s voice then found your ears as you grasped the small ping pong balls in your palm, ready for your first toss.

“Wait, how about we make this a little more interesting?”

Furrowing your brow, you shifted the lightweight sphere from one hand to the other, “interesting how? I don’t wanna put money on this, if that’s what you mean. My stepfather, and by proxy Steve, may be rich assholes, but that doesn’t mean I am…”

“No, I was thinking a little something else,” a mischievous grin slowly twisted up his lips, “how about, if we win, then you have to make a move on that professor,” he goaded, “but if you win, then we’ll–, I don’t know, what would you like?”

“Oh, wait, I get to choose something?” your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the temptation.

“Yeah.”

Mulling it over, you then uttered, “…well, my notes for pretty much all of my classes are really messy… so, if I win, then you guys could organise them all,” you pointed at both of your competitors with a smile, “rewrite them in nice legible handwriting, colour code it and everything.”

“Seriously?” Andy promptly squinted at you as a look of disappointment washed over his features.

“That's what I want.”

“You know you could have had anything, or anyone, as a prize, and you chose that?”

“What?” you blinked back at him as if you were a puppy, “it’s what I want.”

“Alright then,” a chuckle slipped through his sigh, “game on.”

“Oh, hey. You’re back,” you uttered as you picked your nose out of the textbook cracked open on your professor’s dining table and glanced up to spot him waltzing in through the door. He was slightly wet from the brief trek up the driveway and into the house as rain had begun to hammer against the windows.

“Yeah, that fundraiser dragged on for an eternity…” he sighed as he hung up his coat. Stepping closer to where you sat, he asked, “how did it go here? Is Benji down for the night?”

“Yep, he’s asleep,” you nodded, “we played outside in the garden,” you smiled as you reported, thinking back to how you and the six-year-old had played hide and seek, “he helped supervise while I made dinner, by the way, there’s still some left over in the fridge if you haven’t eaten yet,” you briefly pointed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, “and then we started reading Ronja, the Robber's Daughter as a bedtime story, and just as a fair warning, he is hooked. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up tomorrow morning with a burning desire to run into the woods and pretend that he is the daughter of a viking.”

Your collective giggles about the child filled the air a moment before it simmered down once more and Peter’s eyes drifted to your homework on the table.

“And what’s this now?” he planted a hand close to where you sat and leaned in.

“This is the assignment for your class, but don’t peek yet!” your fingers swiftly grasped the corner of the notebook in front of you before you tilted it mostly shut to hide the scribbled words from his view, “that’s cheating! You’ll just have to be patient and get it next week along with all the others.”

“I’ll try my best,” he chuckled as he gazed down at you.

And as you met his eye, your vision soon flickered down to the buttoned-up collar of his shirt before you remembered, “oh hey,” and you dipped down to slip a hand into the backpack you had leaned against the leg of the dining table, “I forgot to give this back to you earlier.”

“Oh, thanks,” his eyebrows floated up a tad as you handed him the shirt you’d borrowed, “I almost forgot about it,” before his fingers drifted up to push his glasses back into place.

A crack of thunder then ripped both of your attentions to the broad window behind you.

“Wow,” you murmured as you watched a bolt of lightning split through the darkness of the late evening, “it’s really coming down out there…”

“Yeah…” Professor Parker hummed before his glance shifted to you, “wait, was that your bicycle out front? You can’t ride back in this weather,” his head faintly shook from side to side.

“Oh, well, you live so close to campus, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense, I’ll drive you,” he pressed.

“You really don’t have to, it’s already so late.”

“Young lady, I am giving you a lift and that’s final,” he captured your timid gaze, “I can’t have my best student get sick or struck by lightning.”

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you breathed, “well, when you put it like that…”

“Let me just go put this away,” he raised the shirt in his hand up slightly, “and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Great,” you smiled before it promptly dropped as he slipped out of the room.

It had been the guys who had talked you into shimmying off your panties the next time you were here and placing them on his bedside table to enjoy, though you had all but forgotten about the lack of coverage currently beneath your skirt right until you watched your professor waltz right into the lion’s den.

“W-wait–,” you tried to stop him, but by the time you parted your lips, he was already long gone.

And before you even realised it, you had risen from the chair and your feet had begun to tip-toe after him. The dark hallway swallowed you whole as you crept through it towards the open doorway into his bedroom.

Hiding yourself in the shadows with your fingernails digging into the doorframe as you peeked inside, a silent prayer left your lips as you hoped he’d not notice the tiny ball of folded-up, pastel-blue cotton on the nightstand, at least not while you were still under his roof.

Though when he’d tossed the shirt into the hamper by his closet, his footsteps faltered when he turned to exit the room. As he stared at the small bundle, it wasn’t till he reached the bedside table that he realised what exactly it was.

Picking it up, he turned it over in his hand a moment before your palm soared up to clasp over your mouth and silence a gasp as he then raised the pale fabric up even higher till it reached his nose.

Though you knew that you should have, you just couldn’t tear your stare away from him, even after his free hand had squeezed the growing bulge in his pants, after he had freed his fat cock, and even after soft grunts began to tumble up his throat as he let his eyes flutter shut and his tight fist began to stroke his length.

And once he’d gotten himself off, his cum now staining your panties clutched tightly in his grip, he then crumbled them up and stuffed them into his pocket.

Scrambling to rush back to the dining room, you tried to ignore the throbbing between your thighs and the arousal that had begun to leak down them as well from that sinful display.

When you heard his footsteps echo down the hallway, you packed up your things as quickly as you could, tossing them into your backpack as you tried your best to pretend that nothing had just happened.

Clearing his throat as he entered the room once more, he then murmured, “you ready to go?”

“Mhm,” you twisted around to face him, however noticed how he refused to meet your eye.

Though you both tried to be hasty as you went out into the storm, strapping your bike to a rack on the back of his car, you were both still completely soaked when the vehicle’s doors closed behind each of you, low exhales acting as punctuations after the slams.

You tried to recall the long list of tips and tricks your stepbrother’s friends had pushed on you, but your mind went completely blank as all you could think about was the vision of your teacher touching himself before your very eyes.

And before Peter’s fingers could slip the key in and turn on the engine, you found yourself, in your flustered frenzy, leaning in to press your lips to his own.

The kiss was rushed and rather clumsy, but you stayed frozen, long enough for your tense shoulder to begin to thaw, though when you finally felt him slip from his stunned state, he only kissed you back for a split second before his hands grasped your shoulders and he tilted you away from him.

“What are you doing?” he demanded breathlessly as his grip stayed at your upper arms to keep you at a distance.

“I’m sorry, I just–,” you gasped shakily, “I think I might like you…”

“Oh fuck…” a long sigh slipped from his lungs as he bowed his head and closed his eyes, “this can’t be happening…”

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first, I just kind of panicked,” you tried, hearing your voice tremble embarrassingly.

“No, you shouldn’t have asked, because none of this should have happened in the first place,” he swiftly grumbled before he let his touch fade from your arms, “this is all my fault, I shouldn’t have crossed this line, opened my home to you and let you see me as something other than your superior.”

“Professor,” you shifted in your seat, “I’m sorry that I kissed you, I just thought that you might–”

“Kissed me? Oh, this isn’t just about you kissing me,” a soft scoff bubbled out of him as his head faintly shook, “miss Y/l/n, you can’t just leave your undergarments around for your teacher to find.”

Averting your gaze, you found yourself muttering just beneath your breath, “…well it didn’t look like you minded…”

“What?” he nearly growled, “what did you just say?”

“I–…”

“Were you spying on me?” he accused heatedly.

“I–, well–,” you panted, “I can explain, it wasn’t my idea–”

“So, what–, this is just some game you’ve got going with your little friends? See who can sleep with a teacher first or something?”

“No, it’s not,” you frantically shook your head before you had to tilt it in shame, “or well–, some people I know found out about the dumb crush I have on you and then they kinda dared me, gave me some suggestions on what to do…”

“Oh my god…” he exhaled slowly and averted his gaze, “…okay…” he then enclosed his fingers around the steering wheel, “I am gonna drive you back and then we will both forget that any of this ever happened, you got it?” he said firmly, though the hurt in your eyes he then spotted as you blinked back at him swayed him to take a step back and choose his next words very carefully, “look, you’re a very sweet girl, and I’m flattered, truly, but you don’t want me,” he faintly shook his head as he gazed back into your glossy eyes, “you should go be with someone your own age…”

“Should I?” you innocently uttered in a heartbreaking tone, “just like you shouldn’t be getting off to the thought of your students?”

Checkmate.

Slowly, you inched closer to his frozen form, “it’s okay,” you whispered when you leaned so near that your noses nearly touched, “I promise, I won’t tell anyone…”

And then as if something inside of your teacher snapped, he huffed, “fuck…” before he closed the short gap between you both and kissed you fiercely.

It felt as if he was trying to devour you whole as you began to make out in his car, rain still thrashing against the outside as his tongue fluttered against yours for a taste of your youth.

Your fingers soon drifted up to tangle his soaked tie in your grasp and you found yourself purring meekly against his lips as his own touch floated up your frame, ghostly against your sides, before he cupped your jaw.

But just as quickly as he had shattered, he once again pulled back, just ever so slightly to murmur, “this is wrong…” his hot breath fanned across your flaming cheeks, “you’re my student…” before you tilted up to steal another peck from him, one so sweet that it prompted him to crumble even further, “h-how old are you? You’re eighteen?” he asked breathlessly before you offered him a faint nod, “you’re eighteen…” he panted through his conflict, “holy fuck…”

You then kissed him again till his hands gradually began to gain more confidence as they raked across your frame. His touch was bold as it captured your tits, palming the softness through the wet clothing that clung to your curves, making you whimper into his mouth, a sweet sound that caused him to smirk faintly against your lips before he deepened the kiss even further.

“You can touch me, professor,” you panted as one of his hands soared up to weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, “it’s okay, I want you to.”

With his grip rooted in your hair and keeping you close, he held your eye as he then let one of his palms slowly wander down between your thighs till your skirt gathered around the watch on his wrist and his touch crept up to brush against your bare core.

Studying the reaction that flashed across your features closely, he groaned, “holy shit…” as your needy nectar soaked his careful touch, “is this for me? Really?”

“Mhm…” you struggled to nod as his fingertips swept up to graze against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck…” he shared your breath, “you really had me believing that you were just a good little girl who’d never pull a stunt like this…”

“Well, maybe I am,” you uttered raggedly as his caresses caused you to tremble with every rub and flick he granted you in his exploration of your haven, “maybe I just have some really bad influences in my life.”

“Yeah, well then lucky me,” two of his long fingers promptly swept down to slip inside of you, making you gasp at the sudden stretch before you squirmed, your legs instinctively wiggling further apart for him, “keep that devil on your shoulder if this is what it gets you.”

Loosing himself completely, it was as if he was possessed as the kind hearted professor you once knew was no longer the man sitting in the car next to you, certainly not the older doctor who soon began to fuck you with his fingers, making your pussy sing for him, and weep against the leather seat below, as he greedily rocked his digits inside of you.

Tilting down, he let his lips flutter against the collum of your neck as he murmured, “what else did your friends say you should do to get me to fuck you, huh?”

“They–, they–…” you tried to recall, but simply couldn’t as the sensation of his fingers, dragging in and out of your dripping cunt, rendered it an impossible task to accomplish, “fuck… I don’t know, I don’t remember…”

“You don’t?” a low chuckle rumbled in his chest at how flustered he’d made you.

“N-no,” your thighs trembled on either side of his hand as it momentarily withdrew to slip up through your soaked petals to offer your puffy pearl a brief rub, before his touch once again soared down to fill you up, “fuck, please don’t stop, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he pressed his nose against your cheek as he gazed down at your pussy, the front of your skirt now pushed up so high on your hips that one merely had to glance to catch sight of the leaky mess now on full display, “you gonna cum?”

“Mhm,” you nodded frantically as your eyes too fluttered down to peer at his fingers, shiny as they pumped within you, and your eyebrows knitted tightly in pleasure as the overwhelming high threatened to come crashing down upon you like an avalanche.

“Then do it,” the grip he had on the roots of your hair flexed as he then tilted your head slightly for him to capture your hazy gaze, “give me something to think about when I get myself off,” he groaned breathlessly as he kept up his ruthless pace, “cum all over my fingers like a good little girl.”

And as your cunt clenched down around his digits, your loud moans bounced off the car’s walls, “p-professor–, o-oh fuck!”

#lea’s writing #take her under your wing au #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker smut #professor!peter parker #doctor!peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker au #marc spector x reader #scott lang x reader #andy barber x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut

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lokigodofmyheart · 6 months ago

Text

DETENTION

Pairing: Severus Snape x Professor!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Y/N was hired to be the new DADA professor, the job Snape always wanted. She had been his student in her time in Hogwarts and now she’s back as his colleague. After a small gathering between the professors, a bit too much fire whiskey, she had told him she had a crush on him in her 7th year.

Warning/Content: smut, roleplay (professor/student), dom!Snape, oral sex (male receiving).

MASTERLIST KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“I had a crush on you in my 7th year. That’s why I used to get so much detention. I tried to get your attention.”

Snape sat alone in his chamber, his mind in a turmoil of emotions. He kept replaying in his minds the words she said. He couldn't believe she had confessed that under the influence of the alcohol.

The next day, classes seem long as he can’t take his mind off her and her words. Even the students noticed their professor seemed a little off. At dinner, he tried to avoid looking at Y/N or even interacting with her. She obviously noticed the way he was avoiding her the whole day, during meals, and she was already regretting telling him her feelings. Y/N just finished her meal and went to her chamber, wanting a good night of sleep and perhaps forget the stupidest thing she ever done.

After dinner, Snape walked to his own chamber, but somehow, he finds himself standing outside her door. His usual composed demeanor replaced by a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as he knocked on her door.

Y/N wasn’t expecting anyone, so she decided to open the door thinking it could be some kind of emergency. She was surprised to see Snape standing there. He didn’t wait for her invitation, walking past her inside her room.

“What are you doing here?”

Snape stopped inside her room, looking around at the decoration before turning to face her. His eyes trailed over her form, taking in her appearance now dressed in her pajamas. He was silent for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts and questions. “I have a question..." Snape started, his voice low and soft. He paused for a moment, unsure of how to word his question "You said you wanted my attention..."

Y/N sighs, she didn’t want to have this conversation “Yes...”

Snape's heart was pounding in his chest, anticipation and anxiety swirling within him. He stepped closer to her, closing the distance a little "You've...desire me?"

“I did...”

His mind was spinning, his breath hitching as he processed her response. He had never expected this, never expected her to desire him in her student’s years “Do you still do?” She only nods. He took another step closer, now standing directly in front of her "Have you...have you ever imagined...naughty things when you were a student?" Her cheeks flushed a little, before she nods once again.

Snape couldn't stop the wave of desire that washed over him at her admission "Such as...?"

Y/N took another deep breath. Since they were having this conversation, late at night, she might as well be honest. So, she looked at him, before she spoke again “I...I used to imagine that in detention, you would bend me over your desk...lift my skirt and just fuck me...”

The potion master’s heart practically stopped beating as he listened to her words. The image she had painted in his mind was both thrilling and sinful, and it sent a jolt of desire through his body "Is that still something you fantasize about now?”

“Yes...” Y/N’s voice was low when she answers him.

Snape's eyes darken with desire hearing her answer “That could be arranged..." he murmurs, his voice low and sultry.

The air was thick around them, a new mood settling. He looked at her one last time, before he grabbed her arm tightly, but not enough to hurt, and started pulling her along quickly to his classroom. Once inside, he shut and locked the door and put a silence charming on the room to prevent any interruptions.

He turned to face her, using his wand to transfigure her pajamas into her old school uniform. Y/N looked surprised, looking down at her clothes “What...”

Snape smirked at her surprise, his eyes trailing over her body in the tight, skimpy uniform. He took a step closer, towering over her "This is the fantasy, isn't it? Detention..." he smirked, his voice like velvet.

She nods with a small chuckle “Yes...so what now, professor?”

As he hears her tone, his eyes darkened further, a mixture of excitement and desire in his gaze “Now... you get your punishment, Miss Y/L/N." he purred, his voice low and seductive “Kneel.”

Y/N could feel her panties wetting already. She followed his orders and kneel before him.

Snape watches as she obediently kneels in front of him, and a spark of lust ignites inside him. He took a step towards her, grabbing her chin and lifting her head "You always talked back a lot. You need to learn to keep your mouth shut.” He says as his thumb brushed over her lower lip “Open it.” Again, she followed his instructions, making Snape let out a low growl of satisfaction.

His hands were quickly to open his pants and free himself from it. He was already hard. “I wonder if this works to shut you up…” The professor says, before he puts his hard cock inside her mouth.

Y/N closed her lips around him with a soft moan. He felt the vibration, as he groans too. His hands quickly went to her hair, grabbing it as he starts to guide her on his member. She never broke the eye contact with him, as he kept pushing deeper on her mouth and letting out soft moans as the feeling of her warm mouth around him.

Snape never looked away from her. The sight of Y/N on her knees, taking his cock in her mouth and in her old Y/H uniform... He let out a shaky breath, his composure faltering as he kept guiding her “You…look so pretty like that…with your mouth shut.”

She moans again against him and it was enough for him to tight his hold on her hair. He was almost lost in the moment, almost undone. But he remebered her fantasy and he had every intention of indulging them.

He pulled her by her hair off him and back on her feet. Snape’s gaze travels over her body. The uniform, her knees a little red from kneeling on the hard floor...He took a step forward, and began backing her up against the desk. He spins her around so her back was against his chest, leaning down so his lips was against her ear as he whispered "Bend over the desk."

Y/N looked at the desk, her heart racing with the thought of wat was about to happen. Seeing she was not moving, Snape placed a hand on her back and applied a bit of pressure, enough to push her slightly. His voice was low and gravelly as he spoke "I said…bend. Over.”

She let him push her to the desk, bending her over on the wood surface and Snape's eyes darkened as he watched it. He stood behind her, admiring the view for a moment, before his hand moved up her thigh, gripping the hem of the skirt and slowly pulling it up over her hips, exposing her panties.

He stepped closer, pressing his hard cock against her clothed pussy, his body taut with arousal. He leaned down, whispering in her ear "I wonder how many times you imagined this...in your seventh year..."

A low chuckle came out of her mouth “How many times did I had detention...?”

Snape’s lips curled into a wicked smile “Every week, for a different reason. Talking in class, not completing your assignments, messing up your potions, talking back... I wonder how many were fake reasons…” He let his hand wander, tracing his fingers up the inside of her thigh, moving ever higher “All those times... I had to put you in detention… I wonder if you ever hoped I’d punish you like this.” He whispered, his fingers finally reaching the edge of your panties.

“Yes...” She sounded just as desperate as she was for him to touch her.

Hearing the desire in her voice made snape let out a low chuckle, his hand continuing it’s journey, caressing her through the fabric of her panties "And did you ever think about me, after you left my classroom...?”

A soft moan came from her lips, feeling his fingers just teasing her through the fabric “Mhmm...”

Snape smiles as he hears her moan “Mmm, did you touch yourself as you thought about me?"

“Yes...”

His breath shuddering as she confirms his question. He pressed his body tighter against her, his hard cock rubbing against her through the very thin fabric of her panties while his fingers kept teasing.

“Professor...” Her voice sounded more like a moan.

A wave of desire went to his body hearing how she said his title “…Say it again.”

“Professor...”

Snape’s breath shudders as he hears it again. The sound of it coming from her lips is enough to drive him mad. He moves his fingers, finding the edge of her panties again, letting his fingers slide slowly down her thigh, taking the panties with him, until they are around her ankles. Y/N quickly stepped out of it.

The professor took a step back, taking a moment to admire her half-naked body, her pussy exposed to him like that. He kicked her feet away, parting her legs even more and Y/N let out a surprised gasp. He moved back to press himself against her, slowly rubbing the tip of his cock against her wetness.

Y/N moans at the feeling “Please...”

Snape smirks at her moan, teasing her a little more “Ready for your punishment?”

“Yes, professor...”

The way the title sounded coming from her lips was intoxicating for him. He used his hand to rub his cock again on her, before he positioned himself on her entrance and slowly slide inside of her with a low groan “You’re so tight...”

He gave her a moment to get used at him, caressing the skin of her hips, before he started moving in and out of her, making small groans. Y/N started moan as he moved, the feeling better than she imagined.

Snape leaned even closer, his chest against her back, so he could whisper in her ear while he moved slowly, taking his time “This…this is what you wanted…wasn’t it? Getting fucked by your professor...?”

“Yes...”

“Yes what?” He whispered again.

“Yes, sir.” He started moving a little faster at her answer, his breath quickening, his hands moving to her hair to keep her in that position as he fucked her.

The sounds she made and the way her body felt against his own, combined with the taboo nature of this whole scene, made his head spin and his lust grow. He started moving faster, harder, letting his desire take over.

Her moans started get more frequent as he was thrusting harder and faster on her. The only sounds besides their moans were their skin against each other and the desk moving ever so little as he kept pushing his cock on her.

Snape felt her starting tightening around him and he smirks “Are you close, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, professor...”

The potion master groaned again, his pace going even harder, more desperate “Good… me too…” *He was close, but he wanted, no, he needed her to cum first. His hand went to between her legs, rubbing her clit to make her orgasm first.

And it worked. Y/N’s legs were already shaking, and that made the perfect combination for her orgasm to hit her as her walls tightened around the professor’s cock.

The moment he felt her cum was his breaking point, when he finally came inside of the woman bending over his table. He rode his orgasm, until his body relaxed and he softened, pulling out of her.

Y/N kept laying there, without moving, as she tried to catch her breath after such an intense orgasm. Probably the most intense in her whole life.

Snape helped her get back to her feet and then sat her on his desk. Y/N watches him, as he gets a cauldron and started to brew something.

“What are you doing...?”

He started working on a potion while he spoke, his voice nonchalant and a slight smirk playing across his lips “It’s a Contraceptive Potion…we don’t want any accidents now, do we?”

“Oh...right.” She felt her cheeks getting hot. She completely forgot about that.

Snape quickly finished as she was sitting on the desk, watching him work. He handed it to her “Drink, should have no bad effects.” She drank it, and for once, it didn’t taste too bad.

“You look tired.” Snape says, watching as she stepped back on the ground.

Y/N smiled a little and nods “You tired me.”

He looked, noticing she was still in the uniform. He used his wand to transfigure her clothes back to her pajamas “I'll walk you back.”

The walk back to her chamber was silent, none of them daring to say anything. When they stopped in front of her door, Snape stopped her, turning to face her “You said you still desire me. You should know that I desire you too. More than just for a night.” Y/N smiled a little. “Good night, Y/L/N.”

“Good night, Snape...”

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus x reader #severus snape smut #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape smut #snape fandom #professor snape #professor snape x reader #professor snape smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #harry potter smut

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smolvenger · 1 year ago

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Hot for Teacher (Professor! Tom Hiddleston x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: After being private about your relationship, your professor boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston, introduces you to his students.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Some thirsty comments and cursing, but no smut. Established relationship and lots of fluffy moments. Grammar and spelling mistakes that slipped past me. Reader not being a student and being an Adult Adult (tm). A big fancy ball because I decided not some hum drum party was gonna do. (I'm the writer, I can do what I want). I rip off YouTube comments and Ana Huang and stuff I see on Tiktok and Instagram.

A/N: For @holdmytesseract's request! I am sorry this took a while due to stuff happening, but here it is!!!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You always visited the campus coffee shop on Mondays at 10 am to overhear students being thirsty for your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at their comments. They were leaving their English Literature Survey class. Only they weren’t discussing books.

“Sooo nice of him to lower the word count for the essay, he knows it’s a lot.”

“Holy crap, did you see how tight his shirt was today? I could practically see his titties.”

“He needs to quote Shakespeare again. I think I’m developing a kink.”

“If I caught my girl in bed with Professor Hiddleston, I’d tuck him in.”

“If I was at the club and Professor Hiddleston was hitting on my girl, I’d start to cry…because he didn’t choose me.”

“I’m a hardcore lesbian, but Professor Hiddleston is on my cheat card.”

“I’m a hardcore asexual, but Professor Hiddleston is so hot that if I had to get pregnant I’d want him to do the honors.”

You sipped up your drink, sitting in a far corner. Smiling bright as you heard them. Stifling a laugh so hard you could feel your drink always threatened to snort out of your nose. You would cup your face, ensuring they didn’t take note of you. Even get out the notes app on your phone to type them down. Not that you’d ever show him.

He was their hot Professor. But to you, he was just Tom.

Just Tom. A boyfriend who cared for you respected you, and listened to you. Who did the bare minimum and so much more. They didn’t know his flaws, living with each other's smells and body odors and functions and insecurities. And the little, beautiful moments that made you all the more in love with him. How you would both go to bookstores and geek out after certain works, make a mess in the kitchen trying a new recipe, or stay in your pajamas until 1 pm watching something on the TV. Did they know how loud he snored at night? Or how sensitive his neck was? Or that he was fidgety if he sat too long?

Then one of them said “His girlfriend is one lucky ass bitch. I wonder what she’s like?”

“Oh…he hasn’t said anything about a girlfriend, do you think…he’s single?!” one asked.

They all shot up like meerkats with big smiles.

You froze, only staring quietly at your drink.

Tom didn’t talk about you in class. Nothing. Nada. Goose eggs. They didn't know you existed.

So far you were sure they were not little homewreckers- not successfully, at least. You trusted Tom and he trusted you and his students respected his boundaries. But he blocked them on social media so they wouldn’t dig anything about him. Tom was a private person and he wanted that to be respected by his students.

When you both met to hang out and make dinner later that evening- his special Spaghetti bolognese recipe, he gave you a hug and kiss on your head.

“Oh, you missed a spot!” you teased.

His eyes crinkled beneath his glasses.

“Oh- uh,” he voiced out.

You dived in to kiss him on the lips, his beard scratching your chin.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Oh, just fine. Your students were…wondering about me today. I saw them at the shop.”

“They didn’t recognize you?”

“No- they don’t know what I look like. Or about me, period…we’ve kept it that way…”

Both of you got into the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves and preparing the pasta and sauce. It smelled of garlic, onion, and olive oil, making your stomach rumble. How easily smelling that in a kitchen could solve all of your problems!

He smiled at you. Then, as the pasta was set to boil in the pot, he turned to you. His sleeves rolled up (making you giddy inside) and his face was a little flushed from the heat of the steam from cooking.

“My angel, I don’t want to keep you in hiding- and you shouldn’t.”

“Tom, what do you mean?” you asked. You stirred the sauce, then tapped the spoon and set it on a jar for attempted cleanliness.

I love you. And this is a part of my life…would you like to meet them? I promise you, they won’t hurt you. I won’t let them!”

He went up to hug you from behind and you watched the simmering food.

You paused, taking in a breath. What were you afraid of? Were you ashamed of Tom or being with him? No, not a bit.

You turned around to face him.

“They’re college kids. They’re basically puppies…I think I’d like to meet them.” you agreed

--:::------::------------------->◇<--------------------::------:::---

You both decided what event it should be that you would meet them. There were events called Bookish Balls that were all the rage now. It was a prom for adults. Proms where everyone dressed like fantasy characters and showed off costumes and even cosplays. It was everything from complex armor to a dress with some elf ears on.

You knew he had a Shakespearean-era outfit from a play he did that he kept you just had to find the right look. It would be more exciting and less creepy then if you jumped on them at the mall like a pair of stalkers.

And the ball looked like fun.

You and Tom both arrived. He was in his Shakespearean garb and crown. You had your own outfit- you adored it. You couldn’t help but look at each large mirror you walked by as you walked down the dim hallways with carpeted floors.

All the students were talking about it- tickets were 60 percent off for students. Since they were all raving about these hot new fantasy books between their required reading of Dickens. They all rattled their iced coffees like maracas and gossiped and shared pics of their outfits on their phones every day before class according to Tom. Most of them would all be there.

Little did they know their Professor was going to be there, as well as his girlfriend.

You both arrived at the fine, fancy hotel. Tom was dressed in his leather doublet and pants with a large cape and a grand crown. Ever the king. You had splurged on the fancy outfit you wanted badly- and you felt as if you were a heroine in a story as you walked through.

“You look stunning- they’re going to adore you,” Tom assured you.

You hoped so. If they met you and humiliated you in some way tonight or after, you would move to Antarctica and learn to speak penguin.

Taking his arm and feeling like royalty, you both went down the fine large building. You saw people gathered. There were some stage lights and the large gala room had trees with flowers everywhere as well as thrones, little game booths photo booths, and a banquet. And, of course, a packed dance floor. A live band played. Many people wore crowns and wings and elf ears and were dancing away with zeal. Women twirled their ballgown skirts with smiles so big it lit them up. Many flicked their capes dramatically or wrapped around them like blankets. There were fairy lights and glitter everywhere and there were photo ops and even a costume contest. It was in full sway.

Including a crowd that included Tom’s students. They jumped up in time to the song, breathlessly singing along to every word.

Tom held out your hand, both of you feeling like the king and queen looking over their jubilant subjects. You both walked down. Hoping your outfit looked as nice on you as you hoped it would.

The song was entering its last chorus. The student's backs were turned and their capes and wings were bouncing as they danced. They hadn’t noticed you yet.

He went to his group of students and cleared his throat. At once they turned their heads.

They looked at him and then you and their jaws dropped.

Tom said.“hello, here is Y/N, my beautiful, amazing girlfriend.” He then leaned you in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

All of their eyes bugged out of their skulls and jaws dropped like broken nutcrackers among them.

You were worried the girls in the group would glare at you like they were going to rip out your stomach intestines.

But instead, all of them collapsed into a collective “AAaaaaawwwwwww, hello!” and “What?! WHAT?!” Their eyes flitted toward Tom in tight leather (who wouldn’t?) and you in your presence.

You went up like in any social situation. You gave them a smile- warm, genuine, polite, and friendly.

“Hi there, it’s nice to meet you- I heard all about you guys!”

You shook their hands. You got to meet them and learn names- Kelly, Hailey, Jessie, Emily, Daniel, Isaiah, Chase, Cameron, Kat, Miranda, Edgar, and so many more your head spun. But you eventually got it with practice.

But they let you dance with them. Be relaxed and have fun. It moved from a band to a playlist of all the classic dance songs. The band blasted Single Ladies and the girls invited you, dragging you in. You tried to copy the moves from the music video, but couldn’t quite and they all burst into laughter anyway.

It then slowed down- it was a ballad, the Cody Fry song about falling in love being like a symphony.

“Well…could I have a dance with my lady?” Tom asked, holding out his hand.

They gasped and looked at you.

“Oh, what a gentleman! I’d be delighted!” you said, accepting his hand.

They let you and Tom have a slow dance- how handsome he looked in the light, beaming at you. They smiled as if they were watching a rom-com at the end. There were no angry glares- at most, some looked a little reflective and sad. But none dared interrupt the moment with you and Tom.

Would they hate you after seeing the affection?

If so, they shut their mouths and minded their beeswax about it.

There were loads of pictures- you were willing to take some (they were seeing you as the surrogate Adult Adult more than their adults) and they included you in some, including some selfies.

Tom excused himself and returned with even brought you a little plate of food. a plate full of little sandwiches, cheeses, and fruits. You both rested your feet and shared some, feeling their eyes on you. For dessert, there were some gooey brownies that melted in your mouth. Tom eagerly grabbed some, his large hands packing as many brownies as he could.

But you realized his beard had streaks of chocolate brownies on it, you burst into laughter and you heard some giggling from the students too.

“Oh, let me take care of that!” you offered.

You got out a handkerchief and wiped it off of him. You definitely heard “awwwws” in the distance. Looking at it, his beard was now clean.

“There you go! But dashing as always!” you said.

He held your hand and kissed it. The “AWWWWWS” got louder in the back and you both had to suppress your laughter.

Rejoining the students, you saw them less as little judges or would-be homewreckers. You got to talk to them. Maybe you judged them harshly- you remembered being in college when you were that young too. Of course, they grumbled about the coursework sometimes and you gave your own insight.

“Oh- you’re seriously reading Persuasion? Oh, just wait! Austen takes some time to get used to when you read her stuff- read them slowly and you will catch onto what’s happening! The yearning in that one is beautiful” you encouraged a distraught Hailey.

You even discussed what fantasy books they were into and got some more recommendations for your ever-growing TBR. And at the end, every last person in the crowd gathered and danced. You and Tom joined the students with big grins and aching feet, but you wouldn’t stop until that last song ended its phrase. No drama. No pettiness. And no hiding. No fear. Just people at a party. Young and happy and alive.

--:::------::------------------->◇<--------------------::------:::---

The other morning, you were back at the coffee shop. Waiting on them. Soon enough, they arrived in their band, though you remained in the corner.

“I couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend!” Daniel gasped.

“Really?! I’m not! A man that fine can have his pick,” Kelly commented.

They began to all get iced coffees and gather around.

“She is gorgeous- didn’t you see her at that ball!? And she’s super nice!”

“Yeah…I want them to be happy and he seems so happy-”

“Oh, he is cheesing after her- you saw how he smiled?! And how he got the plate for her? Like, he’s a walking green flag!”

‘She’s so lucky!

“Listen, I am glad they’re happy…I just wish it were me…”

They all sighed and agreed,. You waited for that whole vibe of that phrase to blow away.

Then, quietly you walked over.

“Hello everyone,” you said.

They gasped and turned heads.

“YN! YN, hi!” one boy, what was his name- oh yes, Cameron!-said.

“Oh, I just wanted to pop by,” you added.

Then, Emily stood up. She got out a chair from one table and moved it over to where everyone sat .

“Do you have anywhere to be? You can…you can join us! You’re welcome to!”

You smiled at them and took a seat.

#carrie writes #professor! tom hiddleston #prof! tom x reader #prof! tom hiddleson x reader #tom hiddleston #fanfiction #fluff #fanfiction fluff #professor fanfiction #prof! tom #prof! tom hiddles #professor! tom hiddleston x you #professor! tom hiddleston imagine #professor! tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x reader #prof! tom my beloved #tom hiddleston characters #tom my beloved

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luvs4matt · 6 months ago

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𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑!𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃 𝐏!𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 .𝟎𝟎𝟏

with love and stems, cherry ღღ

riding him while he sucks your tits

in the car

he is big big

fucking you from behind

lickin’ you up

your nipples in his mouth

you’re on top while making out

he had enough of your shit and made you become louder than you’ve ever been

fingering

stroking his dick

playing with your pussy

fucking you from behind pt.2

a/n - THIS IS A LEGAL AGE GAP!!! NOT ILLEGAL!!! PROFESSOR!SPENCER IS 38 WHILE READER IS EARLY-MID 20’S!!!

#luvs4matt #smut #smutty smut smut #tumblr fyp #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer #criminal minds #professor!au #p!link #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #david rossi #jennifer jareau #jj jareau #cherrys links ✧#☆ professor!spencer reid au

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supalcina · 7 months ago

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Like she never left 🙇🏾‍♀️😻

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xxplastic-cubexx · 3 months ago

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personal happiness or what the fuck ever

bonus:

#xmen #xmen comics #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #professor x #magneto #jeans here too but ssh #snap sketches #i havent posted anything in what feels like forever and i GUESS i have to remind people i do draw sometimes. whatever.#aka in my brain i have at LEAST a five-page doujin where this gets incredibly nsft but i dont have TIME for that these days do i #so for now we get just. these scribbles. ill be able to make something exemplary again someday i swear <- optimistic #i think im going to close my comms off for the rest of december once i get through the batch i have now #which ... doesnt sound hard since the amount i have will probably take me to the end of december anyway 💀#i just need everyone to believe me i have better visions for yaoifying issue 309 .... the opportunity is right there...#like wdym the dream sequence is gon end on a panel of erik's eyes as he reinforces the idea charles needs happiness like scott and jean's..#call up your ex. right now charles.#what got me peeved about this issue is i have no idea what color eriks outfit could be vjaeLVKEJARK its like.#is he wearing a lab coat over a suit .... i think thats the intention ... or maybe it is a trench coat....#idk shit for me to figure out if i ever get the time to explore this thing again #LIKE UGH IM SCREAMING i have Such Visions that i dont have time to execute and theyre killing me #maybe ill just write them down idfk <- trying to write fanfiction ends even worse for me than trying to draw #anyways. im gonna drive myself mad good night everyone #i have to go to a christmas party tomorrow night. later tonight. whatever.#BYE

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mytherapyisreading14 · 2 months ago

Note

can you write a reader x professor!spencerreid? Reader is a Student & they meet the night before classes start & immediately hit it off😏 iykyk

kinda like aria and ezra from pretty little liars but with much more spice🌶

And the storyline kinda follows them through the semester, pls make it a bit angsty 🤏 BUT with happy ending 🥺🙏

Unexpected Surprise

Summary: You find out that the man you hooked up with last night is your new Professor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual harassment, fake dating, age gap, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby etc.), praise kink, choking, fingering, oral sex (f & m), orgasm denial, spanking, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), dom!spencer (If I missed any warnings, please tell me)

Word Count: 5,8k

Author’s Note: Hey, I hope you like the way it turned out. I was also planning to write a story where they meet before and then find out that he’s her Professor, so your Request came in just in the right time :)

The club is loud, the bass booms through the room and the lights flicker in time with the music. You're at the bar, sipping your drink as you take a little break from dancing. The sweat clings to your skin and you just need a moment for yourself. The air is heavy, mixed with alcohol and perfume and you consider going out to get some fresh air.

Suddenly you feel someone standing next to you. You smell the strong alcohol on his breath before you even see him. The warmth of his body is already reaching you across the room, and you have to lower your gaze to keep him from seeing you rolling your eyes. You know what’s about to happen. You feel his presence, and it's uncomfortable as he moves even closer to you.

“Babe, you look so hot. Do you want to spend the night with me?” The words come out of his mouth sharp and dirty, and he puts an arm around you as if he had already won you. An unpleasant feeling spreads through you and you try to avoid it, turning your body away from him. “No, not interested,“ you say, calmer that you‘re feeling right now.

But he doesn't let go, strokes your back, moves even closer to you and his voice becomes more urgent. “Come on, I can help you relax a little bit." It happens so quickly, you barely have enough time to breathe when you feel a new presence behind you. You turn to the side and see a man standing in front of you. His eyes are hazel brown and his long, curly hair falls over his forehead. His posture is confident, almost a bit protective.

“Let her go. She said no.” His voice is deep and calm, a contrast to the urgent tone of the man at your side. The guy next to you stares at the new man now looming in front of him. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s scared. You can practically see how small and insecure he feels as he moves away from you. He mutters something that sounds like an insulting comment, but he quickly turns around and disappears into the crowd again. You breath out relived.

For a moment everything remains silent, only the distant noise of the music can be heard. You look at the man who just saved you. His big brown eyes meet yours, and for a moment everything else around you disappears. He looks incredibly good. Then, realizing he got you out of the awkward situation, you send him a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. “Can I buy you a drink?” It somehow feels right to make this gesture to show your gratitude. He nods, a small, almost shy smile crossing his lips, and you can't help but notice how charming he seems. “Gladly,” he replies. You turn to the bartender and order two drinks as he sits down on a bar stool next to you.

You hand him the drink and introduce yourself. It’s really hard to stop staring into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m Spencer. I’m really sorry that this asshole bothered you,” he says. You shrug unimpressed. “Sad truth is, I’m used to it. At least he backed off quickly now, thanks to you,” you say and smile. The night suddenly feels less chaotic as you continue talking to your unexpected savior.

The loud music in the background seems to fade more and more, as if you are immersed in your own little world. The conversation with him feels light and relaxed, almost like you've known each other forever. You've been talking about books for a while now, the two of you found out that you both love reading.

“And what was the last book you read?” you ask with an interested smile as you look at him. Spencer smiles and leans back a little, his gaze becoming thoughtful. “The last book I read was Bare Reflections.”

You take a sip of your drink and grin when you hear the title. “Sounds… not exactly like what I expected from you.” The alcohol creeps into your head and makes you a little braver than usual, so you decide to tease him, “I didn’t think you’d read a book like that. You seem far too decent for that.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, and for a moment you're not sure if he's irritated or amused. Then he folds his arms over his chest, his posture becoming a little stiffer. "I had to read it for a case we were working on," he says, his voice still calm but now also slightly challenging.

“And what impression do you have of me? Do you think that I might not have interests in that direction? That I'm not able to take control in situations?“ A smile spreads across your face as you feel the tension in the air shift. You can't help but grin. It's a mix of amusement and a little challenge.

“Well, at least not like that,” you reply, looking at him cheekily. “Feel free to convince me otherwise.” And you wink at him, the words sound almost like a game. You see his pupils dilate as he looks at you. A little spark jumps between you. He pauses for a moment, as if considering how to react.

Then his posture changes, he moves a little closer, leans forward and indicates with his hand that you should lean a little towards him. You do, curious to see what comes next. As you lean closer to him, you feel his breath on your skin, and he whispers to you in a voice so deep and quiet that it gets right under your skin. “Let me convince you otherwise.”

Your alarm goes off way too early, but you just turn to the side and turn it off. You squint against the bright sunlight shining through the blinds. The last bit of sleep still clings to you as you slowly push yourself up and put your head in your hands. It takes a moment but then the memories of last night kick in. Spencer. The thought of him brings a smile to your lips. Last night was perfect. He was good. Very good actually. The best you've ever had. Luckily you still remember everything.

His lips against yours, his tongue inside your mouth. His body as he pushed you against the wall. His big, rough hands that squeezed your breasts, wrapped so perfectly around your throat and reached all the spots inside you that you never could. The way he manhandled you so perfectly, rough but somehow also gentle and caring in the right moments. The way he fucked you and used you for his own pleasure, making you a moaning mess. He ruined you for every other man.

But now he is no longer here. You glance at the other side of the bed, it's empty. No trace of him. Just silence. He left when you were still asleep. A little bit of disappointment stirs within you. You were hoping maybe he would stay after all. Maybe have a coffee with you, or just… be there.

The sex was good but there was more. You really enjoyed talking to him. But then again, it was only a one night stand. Today it's the first day at university anyway, it's better to leave early in order to be there on time. If he had stayed here longer you certainly wouldn't have come on time. With a sigh, you push the covers back and swing your legs out of bed.

The floor is cold. You take a look at your phone and check the time. It’s 10:45 a.m. Your first lecture is in just over an hour. You quickly put on a light jacket and then, half asleep, you make your way to the bathroom. You are still tired but the feeling from last night remains. At least this day is off to a semi good start.

You pack your bag, throw in everything you need, your iPad, headphones, lip gloss, some chewing gum and all the other stuff. You rush out of the apartment, bag on your shoulder and keys in hand. You get on the bus that takes you to university and the fresh morning wind blows in your face. It's the first day. You can't wait to see what it brings.

You sit at the front of the lecture hall, the place is comfortable, the view of the board is perfect. Your iPad is in front of you and you're doodling on it out of boredom. The conversations of the other students still chatting sound like a distant murmur to your ears. You are excited and nervous. The first day of the new semester, the first lecture.

The room is slowly filling up and the last students are still finding their place. It‘s almost 12 o'clock and you’re still waiting for your friend Finn to arrive. He slept in and you told him you’re going to safe him a seat. You hear the lecture hall doors open, but you hardly notice it. You are lost in your thoughts, thinking about how hard it will be to concentrate on the lesson when Spencer is the only thing on your mind right now.

Then, suddenly, everything becomes quiet. All the conversations around you fall silent immediately. It's like someone flipped a switch. You look up, not sure why, and then you see him. Your new Professor. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. Spencer. He is standing at the entrance to the lecture hall. For a moment time stops.

The Spencer you had in your bed last night, the Spencer who gave you orgasm after orgasm, the Spencer who made you scream his name is now suddenly your professor. A look of confusion crosses his face, but then he quickly catches himself, puts on his serious expression, and turns away as if he's trying to ignore you.

The tension is thick in the air, but Spencer makes no move to pay attention to you. You bite your lip, anger rising inside you. It hurts. You never thought he would just dismiss you so coldly. You try to concentrate on the lecture, but Spencer, now Professor Reid, brings back memories of that night. And you wonder how he manages to act like there's nothing between you.

Nothing happens throughout the entire lecture. No look. Not a single word. You fight your anger as he explains the first topic and requirements for the exams in a calm voice, but you don't hear anything. Your thoughts only revolve around what happened earlier. Why is he completely ignoring you? Does he think you’re not going to keep this a secret?

Finally, after what feels like forever, the lecture is over. The room slowly empties and you remain seated in your row while the other students leave the lecture hall. Your pulse is racing, but you need to know what's going on between you now. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about you spilling this secret. You can't just go home and let it go now.

You get up, pack up your things and walk towards Spencer. You have the feeling that every step you take now echoes throughout the room. "Spencer… I mean, Professor Reid, can we talk?" you call but before you even get to the front he has already packed all his things and leaves the room without paying any attention to you.

You stop, angry, hurt, disappointed. The lump in your throat keeps getting bigger. You feel empty, like the ground has been pulled out from under you. What is he thinking? Why is he acting like this now? Why can't you just clarify the problem? With one last look at the door, you leave the lecture hall and know that this is far from over.

The next few weeks are not different. He avoids you, ignores you completely and you hope your grades won't be negatively affected, but you're willing to take him on if it comes to that. You're on your way to your next lecture when suddenly someone calls you. You turn around and see Finn. You met him during your first semester and have been friends ever since.

Finn sprints a few steps until he is next to you and holds out your headphones. “You forgot your headphones in the library earlier,” he says. “Oh, thanks! I already looked for them, I thought I just forgot them at home again.” You take them out of his hands and quickly put them in your bag.

As you stroll through the hallway together, you suddenly hear Spencer's voice and automatically turn around. You see him holding a coffee and talking to another student. She laughs and you can clearly see her getting closer to him, flirting and throwing herself at him. You immediately feel panic rising within you.

Every girl you knew has a crush on him. You can’t blame them, he’s attractive after all, but you can’t help but feel jealous. He ignores you but lets other students hit on him. This is too much. Why does he play this game with you like nothing happened while he behaves like this towards others?

Suddenly he turns around and meets your eyes. It's the first time that your eyes cross again since he came in on the first day. You can see a fleeting grin on his face before he turns away again. He leans down to the student who is showing him her notes, and you can see her leaning even closer towards him. The knot in your stomach tightens.

Finn follows your gaze and raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued and with a look that almost seems too amused, he asks, “Are you okay? You look… hurt?” You shake your head. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you feel the fear bubbling inside you. You’re afraid he found someone better than you. "Let's go."

You enter the lecture hall together but you can't concentrate. Spencer is in your head the whole time, and the more you think about the scene, the angrier you get. And then suddenly an idea comes to you. A plan. A very good plan. Maybe you can play this game too and make him jealous, but on your terms.

After the lecture, you stay with Finn and wait until most of the other students have left the room. You look around once to make sure no one is listening before you whisper, “I need your help. But you have to promise me you won’t ask any questions.” Finn looks at you curiously. “Okay, what’s this about?”

You sigh and look him straight in the eyes. “I wanted to ask you if it would be okay with you if you helped me make someone jealous. Pretend you’re interested in me and dating me,” you explain to him.

Finn grins, a slight smile spreading across his face. “Of course I can do that.” Then he tilts his head slightly. “But I do have one question. Does this whole thing have something to do with Professor Reid? I can tell something happened between you,” he asks with an amused look.

You immediately blush and try not to get caught. “Shh, keep quiet,” you whisper, looking around nervously. “And I said no questions. So, are you in or not?” Finn laughs, shakes his head and raises his hands as if to apologize. “Okay, okay, I understand. Sure, I can help you.” You breathe out a sigh of relief and grin at him. "Thanks!"

A few days later you can finally carry out your plan. Finn sits down next to you in the lecture hall and as soon as Spencer enters the room, Finn leans closer to you and casually puts an arm around the chair next to you. Then he whispers in your ear. "I'm curious to see if that works."

Even though you said he shouldn't ask any questions, you told him what happened between you and Spencer. You know you can trust him and he would find out sooner or later anyway because he plays along with this whole thing.

You giggle softly. "I really hope so. Thank you for taking part in all of this,” you say quietly but you get interrupted immediately. "If you think you need to talk while I'm teaching, you can leave straight away. I expect everyone to be quiet,” Spencer says and when you look up you can see his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. You lean a little further away from Finn and can't help but smile.

That went faster than expected. You notice that he is no longer ignoring you. His eyes keep wandering over to you to see what you are doing, if Finn is getting closer to you. The atmosphere is not as relaxed as it used to be, everyone can tell the he is not in a good mood today.

When the lecture is over you pack your things and as you leave the room Finn puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You can feel Spencer’s gaze following you and you're annoyed that you didn't think of making him jealous sooner. But it doesn’t matter now, you’re happy your plan works.

Unfortunately you weren't able to carry out your plan any further this week. Spencer has been missing the rest of the week and you assume he is busy working on a case with the team. It felt like the week wasn't going to end at all and when you go to the library with Finn on Monday morning, you hope that Spencer is coming back now.

You sit down at the table together with a coffee and start writing on your essays, using the free time to get ahead with it. You're completely focused on your work until Finn suddenly bumps into you with his leg under the table. You look up confused before he places a hand on your thigh and leans forward. He whispers in your ear "Your favorite professor is back.”

You nod and lean in closer too, you don't want to look in Spencer’s direction so that he thinks you haven't noticed him. “Is it okay if we kiss?” you ask and Finn nods. You try to ignore Spencer as much as he ignored you. But you can still feel his gaze fixed on you.

Finn leans forward and places a quick, gentle kiss on your lips. When he leans back he can see Spencer’s angry look. "He didn't look happy with it,“ he says and you laugh. "Then I did everything right. I hope that this was not too much. I'm sorry then." You say but he just waves it off. "It's all good, I agreed to the whole thing. I just hope that it works out for you in the end,” he says and winks at you.

The two of you stay a little longer and continue learning and working on your essays but after a while you decide to leave. You turn to Finn. “I'll leave now. I can't concentrate anymore anyway. And thanks for helping me out again.” You say, packing up your things. "No problem. I'll stay a little longer and use the time I’ve left. I'll see you tomorrow then,” he says and you nod. "See you tomorrow.”

It feels like a small victory as you leave the library. Not only have you made progress with your learning, but you have also been able to continue putting your plan into action. If you and Finn keep it up, Spencer will definitely talk to you about it soon.

Now you just want to listen to music and get rid of the remaining tension and you look for your headphones in your bag again. They must be somewhere between the notes and other things, you're sure you packed them this time. “Where the fuck are they?” you mutter under your breath and continue digging in your bag.

But then you suddenly feel a movement in front of you. You look up and freeze. There he stands. Spencer. Arms crossed, eyes sternly fixed on you. You immediately tear your eyes away from his and want to walk past him without saying a word, but he notices what you're up to. He's getting in your way.

“What do you want now?” You try to keep your voice calm, but inside your heart is already beating a little faster. The look he gives you is hard, almost annoyed.

“You will come with me,” he says. You cross your arms over your chest and looking at him as if you are really annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean? I have to go home.”

He shakes his head. “You’re coming with me now. We need to talk.” You roll your eyes. "Oh, do we now? And what exactly do you want to talk about, Professor?” Your voice sounds sharper than you planned. “You’ve just been ignoring me for the last few weeks. Do you even know my name anymore?” you ask him. “Why should I have forgotten your name?” he asks and raises an eyebrow.

“Because you‘ve been ignoring me since our first day here! I understand, I'm your student now, but I -“ you start but he interrupts you. You see his face harden, his expression becoming even more serious. “Not here. Come with me, now.” You feel a mixture of anger and nervousness building up inside you. You just want to brush him off, but somehow you also feel like challenging him.

“Make me,” you say, your voice challenging, almost mocking. You look him straight in the eyes, watching what he'll do next. He barely blinks, glancing quickly down the hall as if to make sure no one sees you. Then he suddenly grabs your arm. It‘s not a gentle hold, he grabs you firmly, dragging you behind him without another word.

“You should really stop messing with me.“ He sounds angry. “I like trouble,” you say with a smirk and try to pull away. But you feel his hand holding you tight. One last thought comes to you before you're dragged down the hallway. What the hell does he actually want from you now?

A few minutes later you are standing in front of his office and he unlocks the door. You go in and look around. It's the first time you're here, you never went to his office hours. There are a lot of books lying around and you take a look at the titles. Spencer, on the other hand, locks the door behind you. You're about to reach for a book, but he interrupts you.

“I want to talk to you. Sit down,” he says and points to the chair on the opposite side of the table. You think about it for a moment, but decide against it. Instead you stay in front of his table with your arms crossed. You want to get back at him for treating you like that, even if it's hard because you want nothing more than for him to kiss and touch you again.

“Oh now, after weeks, you want to talk. In case you haven't noticed, Professor, I've been wanting to talk for a long time. You were the one who disappeared straight away when I approached you,” you say and roll your eyes again. You are curious to see how long he will let you continue like this before he snaps.

He stands up and walks towards you in long, slow steps. When he stands in front of you he lifts your chin. He finally touches you again you feel a shiver run down your spine. His pupils are dark and you can see the lust in them you already saw the night you first met.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t talk to you, baby?” he asks and you can’t help yourself and nod. You need to know what he is thinking. He leans down and his mouth is directly against your ear. Being this close to him again turns you on immensely.

“All I could think about after this night was you - your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, your pretty pussy taking me so well and your sweet moans when I made you come. It was a shame that I couldn't stay longer in the morning to fuck you again. You've been on my mind the whole time after that night. And then I come in, for work, and you're sitting there. All I wanted was to bend you over my table and fuck you again,” he says before he leans back to look into your eyes again.

“But I was overwhelmed by the whole situation. It was my first day as a professor and I didn't want to risk getting fired. That's why I avoided you. I saw how much it bothered you and I have to admit, I liked seeing you so jealous when I was talking to other students, to see that I have this effect on you.” His face suddenly hardens again. “Until you thought you had to play this game with me too and make me jealous with your friend. I knew it from the beginning.”

You grin and decide to continue playing with him. “Oh, that doesn’t really matter to me. It still worked, didn’t it?” you say and then he finally snaps. He takes a step towards you and puts a hand around your throat, pulling you closer to him. "You've taken it too far. He kissed you, touched you, held you in his arms." His grip tightens, but you realise there is some hesitation, he’s still careful because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I can do whatever I want, professor. I am not your property,” you breath out and give him a challenging look. “No? You will be soon.“ He lets go of your throat, turns you around and bends you over his desk. “Actions have consequences and you will now see what yours have.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you shutter in excitement.

He notices and chuckles before he flips your skirt over and exposes your underwear. His hands roam over your ass, squeezing it before he pulls back and suddenly his hand comes down onto your ass. He just spanked you. You can feel a stinging sensation and it turns you on even more. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to. You’re going to count and take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand?” he asks.

You nod and he pulls you back by your hair. “Words, baby,” he says. “Yes, I - I understand.” He lets go of your hair and his hand goes back to your ass, grazing the spot he just spanked before and without a warning his hand comes down on the other side. You whimper and begin to count. “One.” His hand rubs the spot almost soothingly before he continues. You are getting wetter with each strike.

“You’re enjoying this. I can see how wet you are. I bet you missed me in the last few weeks, am I right?” he asks. “I did,” you admit before his hand comes down again. “Two,” you continue to count. “Tell me, did you touch yourself at night, thinking about me? How good I fucked you? How I made you come again and again, on my tongue and on my cock?”

He leans down to whisper in your ear again. “Because I did. I stroked myself at night, wishing it was your hand, your lips or your pussy wrapped around my cock. I couldn’t wait to finally have you again.” He admits before his hand comes down on your ass again. “Three. Yes, I - I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” you say and he chuckles.

“Just like I thought,” he says before he continues with his punishment. He turns your ass red and decides after ten strikes that you have enough. “I’m proud of you baby. You took it like the good girl we both know you are. You just need someone that discipline you sometimes. Isn’t that right?” he asks. “Thank you. That’s… that’s right Sir.”

Spencer grins and turns you around, finally pressing his lips against yours again. He taste likes coffee, toothpaste and cinnamon. It’s addictive. His tongue explores your mouth and you moan against him, pressing your body against his, roaming you hands over his chest. You remember every spot and every muscle like it was yesterday. It’s no surprise though because you had to think back to the night you spent together every evening.

Spencer starts kissing down your neck, making sure to leave a hickey there, just like he did the first time he fucked you. Your hands run through his soft hair, pressing him closer to you and when you give them a thug he growls. “Please, touch me. I need you,” you say, desperate for more. “Eager, aren’t we?” His hand slides between your legs and up your thigh.

When he finds your soaked panties he chuckles. “You’re soaked, baby. All this, just for me. Do you want me to help you out? Make you come on my mouth or my fingers again?” he asks and you nod before you breath out “Both please.” He laughs. “You really need me that badly? Then beg for it,” he says with an amused look on his face.

He’s clearly enjoying this. You don't care if you sound pathetic, you listen straight away to what he asked you to. “Please, I want you to make me come. Please fuck me with your fingers. Eat me out. I need you,” you beg. “Good girl,” he praises before he reaches for your panties and slides them down your legs.

As soon as you step out of them he grabs them and puts them in his pocket. Then he places you on his desk, presses your back down and leans forward to lick a stripe up your pussy. You moan and immediately reach for his hair again, pressing him closer to you. “Please, more,” you moan. His thumb teases your clit before he pushes two fingers into you.

Your eyes roll back and you bite down on your lip to keep quiet, which is really hard because he’s just too good. You feel everything, his tongue, his lips and the stubbles of his facial hair as he eats you out like a man starved. The combination of his tongue and fingers is overwhelming. You’re losing yourself in the pleasure quickly, feeling how your climax approaches.

Spencer however notices too and pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal. “I didn’t give you permission to come,” he says and you whine. He just laughs quietly before pushing his fingers in your mouth. “Clean them,” he says and you obey. He watches you very closely and you decide to tease him more, the tip of your tongue strokes his fingertips. “Fuck me Sir, please,” you say and look straight into his eyes.

You can see the lust in them and he wastes no time and reaches for his belt, pulling his cock out. He strokes himself a few times and you can’t keep your eyes off him. “You like watching me, don’t you? Do you want to watch while I make myself come and leave you with nothing?” he asks and you immediately shake your head. “No, I need you.”

“Didn’t expect anything else from my little slut,” he says and slides his cock through your folds. You wrap your legs around him and he finally pushes in. You moan and he clasps a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet for now. I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight, but not here.” Your eyes widen. So this is not going to be the last time he fucks you.

You feel the relief, but you don't have time to think further about his words because he starts to pound into you. You missed this feeling so much and get lost in the pleasure. His hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing it, just the way you told him you like it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. I missed this. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night. And now I finally have you again. You’re all mine. Say it.”

“I’m - I’m yours. Only yours,” you say and pull him in for a kiss. You can still taste yourself on his lips. When he pulls back he slides out of you, flipping you over and bending you over his desk again. A few seconds later he’s already back into you, fucking you from behind. He slaps your ass again and you inhale sharply. It stings more than before now, you’re sensitive after the spanking.

He lets you forget about the pain though when he keeps hitting your g-spot over and over again. The new angle makes you see stars. “God, you’re perfect. So thight and wet. I could fuck you all night,” he says while his fingers keep digging deep into your hips, holding you thight. “You should see yourself. So pretty with your ass spanked red and bent over my desk, taking my cock like a good girl.”

You can feel that you’re slowly losing control. You just want to come, especially after he denied you earlier. “Can I - can I come now please?“ you whisper while he keeps thrusting into you. “I can’t hear you. Ask again,” he says and you can tell that he’s teasing you. “Can I come?” you ask again, louder this time. “Ask nicely, baby,” he says, driving you crazy. “I want to come, can I - can I please come?” you ask again, making sure to speak loud enough this time.

“No,” he simply says, pulling out of you and pushing you on your knees. “Open,” he says and you obey, taking his cock into your mouth. He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail and fucks your throat. You can feel his cock twitch and a few seconds later he comes inside your mouth. You swallow everything and look up to him, begging him with your eyes to finally let you come now.

He pulls you up and lifts your chin with his hand before kissing you again. “You did so good, baby. But you have to wait until we’re home. Because when I make you come again, I want to hear you scream my name. Can you do that for me?” You clench your legs together in excitement. “Yes. But can we leave right away then?” you ask and he laughs. “Of course baby.” He helps you collect all your things before the two of you sneak out of his office and through the hallways to his car to drive home.

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