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iamnotoriginalphil · 25 days ago

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Top of the Class (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Agatha finally lets you sit in on one of her classes.

Words: 7.1k

Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, power imbalance, age gap (all 18+), praise kink, possessiveness, swearing, jealousy, mentions of cock warming, mentions of orgasm denial, mentions of overstimulation, mentions of spanking, edging, fingering (R receiving), choking, strap-on (R receiving), blowjob (R giving), degradation, hair pulling, begging, marking

Agatha’s hand was resting on the top of your head, nails scraping over your scalp as she petted you. Your back was pressed against the sofa, leaning against her leg, cheek resting on her thigh. You’d given up on the book in your lap, eyes closed, luxuriating in the feeling of her. You hummed, shuffling closer.

“Are you falling asleep, pet?”

Her voice was a soft hum, almost amused. You mumbled something, curling one arm around her calf, pressing more insistently against her. Her fingers gave one sharp tug on your hair, pain blooming over your scalp.

“Hey,” you protested.

But it wasn’t enough for you to draw away. Nothing could convince you to stop touching her when she was allowing it. Her warmth was seeping into your body. She wound a strand of your hair around her finger, tugging on it again, this time gentler.

“Are you going to sleep if I leave you here during my class?” she asked.

You buried your face against the muscle of her thigh, refusing to answer. She was not one to promote wasted time. Not unless it was to do something she wanted. Like laze around in bed all day, nothing but caresses and kisses and shared laughter.

“I can’t have you wasting the entire afternoon,” she warned.

“You’re the one who kept me up all night,” you grumbled.

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time,” she said.

Of course you hadn’t. She’d had your arms tied above your head as she’d kept you on the brink long enough to drive you crazy. You were hardly going to tell her to stop when she was making you feel so good.

“C’mon, just one short nap,” you wheedled, “you won’t even be here to see.”

“Exactly. Don’t you think you should try and get as much work done when I’m not here to…” Her fingers tugged on your hair until you looked up at her, “play with you?”

“How am I meant to when I’m so tired?” you asked.

“If you want to spend the night in your dorm room, be my guest,” she said.

“No,” you said, so fast there was no way to play it off as anything but desperate.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” she asked, “since I clearly can’t trust you on your own.”

“You can trust me. I’m a good girl,” you whined.

“I know you try to be,” she said, fingertips brushing over the apple of your cheeks, “you try so hard. But sometimes you can’t help yourself.”

You whimpered, pressing closer. She lent forward until her breath ghosted over your skin. Her hair, usually wild and free, was pinned up and you could see the long column of her neck. It called to you, begging for your lips to attach to it, your tongue to taste her skin.

“Up here, pet,” she said.

Her finger tilted your chin up until your eyes met hers. The way she was looking at you had your stomach clenching, butterflies springing to life, fire sparking in your veins. It was full of such heat, scorching you, turning your head fuzzy.

“I’m not sure you’ll do as you’re told if left to your own devices,” she said.

“What do you suggest?” you asked, letting yourself gaze at her with undisguised desire.

“I think you’d better join me in class today,” she said.

“I should what?”

You eyes blinked up at her, stomach swooping. You’d never been given the opportunity to watch her teach. When taking one of her classes had felt like a pipe dream, you’d imagined the legend of a woman at a lectern. Now, knowing her, you knew it would ruin you to watch her.

“You need my watchful gaze on you, pet,” she said, “you might even learn something.”

“I promise you I won’t,” you said.

She chuckled, husky, from deep in her chest, making you tremble at her feet. Her knuckles brushed over your cheekbone surprisingly soft.

“And why’s that, pet?” she asked.

“Because all I’ll be able to think about is your mouth, and your fingers, and what you do to me,” you replied.

“And what do I do to you?” she asked.

“Ruin me.”

She seemed pleased with your breathless response, grinning down at you like you were her good little pet, like she was going to swallow you whole, like all your dreams were going to come true. You glowed for her, so pleased, shuffling closer. Maybe you weren’t going to be able to nap, but she was offering you the chance to show her how well you followed orders. You could be so good for her.

An hour later, you were following her across the campus, towards the small lecture theatre that attempted to contain her genius. The usual circle of space was given to the two of you, leaving you in your own bubble with her. It was how you preferred it, not letting the rest of the world in when you were with her. She was the world to you.

Inside the lecture theatre, a group of students sat scattered over the chairs. You watched, a rippling effect of straightening spines, eyes alighting on Agatha. Your Agatha. Of course she got such a response from her students. She was formidable.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd, watching the way they watched her. A few glances passed over your, a mixture of confusion and jealousy. Clearly your reputation had seeped into their collective consciousness, your special place in the ecosystem of Professor Harkness’s teaching career. Too many of them were watching her with an undisguised look of wanting. You recognised it, the same expression on your face when you saw her. The same expression she seemed to find amusing on your features.

“Go take a seat,” she murmured in your ear, her hand on the small of your back nudging you towards the stairs.

You nodded, mute, her breath on your skin raising goosebumps. Even in front of an audience, you couldn’t stop your reaction to her. She was something otherworldly, magical in how she made you feel. Like a magnet, you felt yourself drawn towards her no matter the distance.

You sunk into a chair at the back of the hall, where you could watch her and not be watched by any of her students. You wanted to gaze at her, drink in this moment, watch her in her element. You knew it would wreck you but you craved it, your destruction at her hand. Her eyes alighted on you, a fleeting glance, but you saw it from the tilt of her lips. She knew what she was about to do to you.

With your chin resting in your hand, you could gaze down at her. She waited another few minutes, the air turning electric with anticipation. She fiddled with the laptop, a powerpoint showing behind her. It was familiar, the picture one you’d poured over with her before, heads bent together over a book, close enough that whispers were all you needed. Her shoulder had been pressed against yours, long fingers tracing over the plate, spinning a story for you. When your gaze had inevitably crawled up her arm to her face, she’d already been looking back, blue eyes molten, taking in every single one of your micro expressions. She hadn’t let you kiss her until she was finished telling you the story, but you’d ached to since the first word fell from her lips.

The door crashed open, starting you. A windswept boy hurried in, calling out an apology to Agatha. Her lip curled and those blue eyes flashed dangerously. You watched each sure step as she sauntered over to him. Your stomach clenched and you thought you knew what was coming.

“What time do you call this?” she asked, voice quiet but ringing in the students’ silence. All eyes were watching.

“Sorry Professor Harkness,” the boy said, one hand pushing through his hair, ruffling it in what he must have thought was an attractive way, “traffic was crazy.”

“What did I tell you at the start of the semester?” she asked, head cocking to the side.

You could see him searching for the answer, the slump of his shoulders when he came up empty.

“I told you,” she said, bending down, both hands on the arms of the chair, pinning him under her gaze, “don’t bother showing up if you’re not serious about this class.”

“I am serious. I’m so serious. It was just-” he said.

“Traffic. So you said,” she said straightening up.

You watched him let out a relieved breath, relaxing back into the seat. Agatha turned on her heels and you held your breath.

“Get out,” she said.

The boy stiffened.

“But I am serious,” he argued, “you know I’m serious about this class. I need this to graduate.”

“You should have thought about that before you were late,” she said, not even looking at him to add insult to injury, “everyone was informed that I don’t accept late arrivals. Either show up early or not at all.”

He stood, face going a splotchy red.

“Bitch,” he spat.

She was slow to turn and you could tell from the set of her lips that she was angry. Hidden, secret, not obvious unless you’d spent a lot of time with her, you weren’t sure any of the students realised. The boy certainly didn’t. He had no idea how deep in shit he was.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that if you’re hoping to hurt my feelings,” she replied.

“It’s one minute. What’s it matter?” he demanded.

“The second you start allowing standards slip is the second you give up. I have no interest in teaching burn outs. Get out of my class,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment before he snatched up his bag. His stomping footsteps echoed as he left again, under the watchful gaze of the rest of the students. The door was loud as it slammed shut behind him.

Your thighs clenched together under your tiny table, breathless, mouth dry, heart thundering. Blue eyes found you and the warmth in your cheeks was for no one but her.

“Does anyone else have something they wish to add before I begin class?” she asked, voice carrying through the room.

Quiet negatives came from every corner of the room. You couldn’t look away as a smile spread over her face.

“Good,” she said, “then let me tell you a story.”

You settled back in your seat, the familiar story washing over you. You didn’t need to concentrate, knowing the story, having heard it in her husky voice, late at night, whispered into your skin over and over again, teasing you until you answered her questions correctly while her fingers drew you taut. The same story that played along with the picture of witches dancing in the moonlight hand in hand with demons.

No, you paid attention to her body, rather than her words. The way her hands moved through the air, illustrating something only she could see. Her voice rose and fell, lingering on certain words, her tongue caressing each syllable. She strode up and down, turning dramatically, weaving together a performance that had you throbbing with need.

You melted in your seat, watching her, lips parted, wondering if you could convince her to take you on her desk when you returned to her office. You were being so good. She had to reward you. She had to.

She paused, eyes dragging up to you. You watched as her tongue dragged along her lower lip, her pause deafening. Your own teeth sunk into your lower lip, imagining your own tongue following the same path. Her head titled. And then she was off again, continuing her lecture.

You inhaled sharply, looking away for a moment. You could pick out the students that were hanging on her every word, those that lent forward in their chairs, wanting to be closer to the sparkling woman. She might have had a reputation around campus, but those who managed to stick it out clearly found her as intriguing as you did.

You hated the thought of them thinking about her the way you did. Fantasising. Imagining. Working hard to please her the same way you did in the hopes they would be singled out. That she would look at them as if they were special. As if they would be the one to break through the hard exterior.

You were the only one who got to see beyond the performance to the woman underneath. And you were certainly the only one that got to benefit from those long fingers and flashing eyes and cruel smirk. No one else was hers.

No one else had a claim over her. Just you. Only you. Always you.

Your eyes slipped back to her, finding her leaning towards another one of her students. They were gazing up at her, dazzled, and your jaw clenched. But then her head tipped up and she caught your eye and you knew she was doing it on purpose. She wanted you watching. She wanted you paying attention. She wanted you jealous.

So you sat back in your chair, fingers combing through your hair, playing with the ends. The soft flannel of your shirt fell down towards your elbows, her perfume a permanent scent embedded in the material. She’d never asked for it back after you’d stolen it, the purple material a comfort when she wasn’t around.

You tipped your chin down, watching her intently. Her lips pulled up into a half smirk, leaning away from the student. She turned away from you, hands resting in her pockets, continuing on with the story. Letting your eyes sweep over her body, all you wanted to do was slip between her legs, taste her skin, hear her moan. You loved the noises she made when you were knuckles deep inside her.

The next time those eyes found you, you slipped your fingertip into your mouth, cheeks hollowing, maintaining eye contact with her. There was no stutter, no break in her words, no stumble, but you saw the way her fingers clenched.

If she was playing with you, you’d play right back.

You rested your fingers around your own throat, waiting for her to look back. You tipped your head back, lips parting, hooded eyes daring her to do something. Her shoulders tightened and her words came out a touch sharper than you were sure she’d intended them to be.

Then she gifted a smile to one of the girls in the front row. Not her usual smile. The one that she usually bestowed on you when you were particularly brilliant. You didn’t like the way your heart thudded. It reminded you that she would always hold so much power over you. With a single word she could break you.

Although, you might be able to break her too, if you ever lost your mind and wanted to hurt her.

When her gaze sought you out again, you knew you were looking at her like you wanted her to throw you down on the floor and have her way with you in front of all of her students. That you were imagining the pleasure she could give you. That you were thinking of the ways she could make you scream.

Her own eyes darkened, tongue wetting her lips again. Your lips parted on a soft sigh, fingertips trailing over your own skin in a mirror of the path hers had taken over your body that morning. You traced her name into your skin, slow enough for her to realise what you were doing. The expression on her face was nothing but raw need.

You thought you’d won the game she’d started. Your checkmate move, the one that always had her melting. Making it clear you were hers and hers alone, and that you were proud of the fact. That you luxuriated it. That you loved being claimed by her.

You spent the rest of the class watching her, gazing with what you were sure was a lovesick look, tracing her name over and over again into your skin as you considered all the ways you wanted to show her your appreciation for letting you join her class. And hopefully earn you another invitation.

You were beginning to grow drunk on her, addicted to her, salivating over her as she strode around the room, hands waving, fingers curling in a move you found very familiar. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, holding in the moan that wanted to be heard.

She wrapped up the lecture, those eyes finding you again, lips curling up when she saw the state you were in. You shifted in your seat, squirming when her expression darkened. Lingering, you stayed in your seat as the students filtered out, a few staying behind to ask questions. She waved them away, her gaze caught on you.

You lent back, watching her approach from under hooded eyes. Hands in her pockets, she exuded powered, the kind that was heady and addictive and delicious. She walked through the row in front of you, leaning over the chair to draw closer to you.

“Did you learn something, pet?” she asked.

“Uh huh.” You nodded, leaning towards her.

“And what did you learn?” she asked.

“That I’m going to have to keep you chained up in your house,” you said, “you’re entirely too sexy when you teach and I’m not the only one who notices.”

“What on earth could you mean?” she asked, widening her eyes, affecting innocence.

“I think you know the exact effect you have on them,” you said, leaning in until you were only a hair’s breadth from her.

“What effect do I have on you?” she asked.

“How about you come here and find out,” you suggested.

Her hand grasped your chin, nails digging into your cheeks. Your mouth fell open, a soundless beg for her to come closer. When her eyes dipped down to your lips, you strained against her hold to get closer.

“You think you’re in control here? You think your little display will get you what you want? You think you have any say in how I teach my students?” Her lips brushed against yours, featherlight and ghost-like, “you have sorely miscalculated, pet.”

The flash of heat that went through you was embarrassing. You shouldn’t be so ready for her with so little work on her part. Leaning into her touch, you whimpered, just loud enough for her to hear you.

“You spent the entire class testing my patience,” she growled.

“I was being good for you,” you said.

“You were being a dirty whore. A spectacle. If anyone had seen you they would have known what a desperate little slut you are. Is that what you want? Do you want all my students to know how needy you are for my cock?” Her fingernails only dug in harder.

“Want them to know I’m the only one you touch,” you whimpered.

Her smirk wasn’t kind, full of malice while you could only beg for her.

“You’ve been nothing but a distraction, pet. You were meant to be good for me while I taught but you’re nothing but a naughty pet that needs to be punished.” The way her voice lowered into something husky, a rasp of a voice, had your thighs clenching again, “come on.”

She stood, releasing your face and you felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach. You hurried after her, rushing down the steps until her arm caught you around the waist, dragging you closer. Her kiss was searing, far too short by half, and you whimpered when she drew away.

Following her back across campus, you didn’t even notice the way people jumped out of her way. What you did notice was a few of the students still milling about, their eyes finding Agatha without pause, turning to her like she was the sun. Your stomach churned again.

You were the only one to lay claim over her. She was yours, not theirs, no matter what they seemed to want. She’d made it clear you were hers in every sense of the word.

Her hand curled around your wrist as she entered the history building, tight enough for you to feel secure with her. You liked when it became hard to know where you ended and she began. Having her wrapped so tightly around you was one of those things you loved but never told her. She’d tell you to stop being so sentimental.

Pushing her door open, she flung you inside, slamming the door behind her. Ignoring your pleading eyes, she took a seat behind her desk. Her legs spread wide, chin resting in her hand, watching you as you stood there, waiting for some kind of instructions. You felt breathless under that gaze, wanting to climb into her lap, to ride her thigh, to do anything you were allowed to ease the need that had been coursing through your veins since she’d begun her lecture.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over your body, “even under careful watch you just can’t help yourself.”

“You’re just too-“

“Oh no,” she interrupted, “you’re not blaming your behaviour on me.”

Her fingers began to tap on the arm of her chair, considering you with an intensity that made you tremble.

“Were you hoping to make a fool of me in front of my students? You thought you had that power over me? That your childish antics would get a response from me?” she asked, displeasure colouring her words.

“You did react,” you said, knowing it was the wrong thing to say.

Her fingers gently tugged at the buttons of her shirt, opening it, exposing inch after inch of skin. Your mouth grew dry, eyes trained on it. There was no chance this was going the way you wanted and yet you couldn’t see the downside as you watched her.

Lace peeked out, inviting you in, tempting you to fall to your knees in front of her. She paused, dragging one finger up her chest, neck arching back before dropping down to look at you again.

“Come here, pet,” she commanded.

You did, unable to stop yourself even if you’d wanted to. Slipping between her and the desk, you reached a hand out to her, wanting to feel her beneath your touch. She slapped your hand away.

“Good girls get to touch,” she said, “and I see no good girls here.”

Quicker than you could catch, she had stood, hand on your body turning you, pressing your hips into the edge of her desk. You gasped. Her breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, hands pinning yours to the surface of the desk.

“Bad girls get punished,” she whispered.

Her tongue ran up the length of your neck. You shivered, hips pressing back into her, feeling the bulge in her trousers, the thick length you knew was hidden in there. After all, you’d seen her put it on that morning. She shoved you forward again, the edge painful as it dug in. You whined but she did nothing, keeping you pinned against her desk, unable to touch, to taste, to sink into her.

“How shall I punish you?” she hummed, lips brushing the vulnerable skin of your neck.

“Agatha,” you whined.

“I could refuse to give in to you, not touch you for a good long while, not let you cum until I feel you’ve learnt your lesson,” she said, still whisper soft

“Please,” you whimpered.

“I could have you warm my cock until the end of the day, and for every single time you distract me as I try to get my work done, I get to think of new punishments for you,” she suggested.

“Please,” you tried again.

“Or maybe I should have you cum over and over again until you can’t take it any more. Give you everything you want since you’re so needy,” she whispered, “and then when you think you can’t take any more, I just keep going since you wanted it so badly. You’ll take as much as I say you will and you’ll thank me for it. Every. Single. Orgasm.”

You were breathless, caught against her desk, pinned without the chance to move. Her lips kept ghosting over your skin, breath brushing until you shivered. Her teeth tugged on your earlobe, and the warmth was spreading, throbbing between your legs until you weren’t sure you could stay upright if she wasn’t keeping you there.

“I could spank you. Your skin would look so pretty with my handprints all over it,” she mused.

“I need you,” you whined.

“Unfortunately, pet, this isn’t about what you need, or what you want, or how good you think you are. This is about me teaching you a lesson,” she said, “I am your professor, after all.”

The shot of pleasure that went through you at the reminder, that you were one of her students, that this was wrong and most would frown upon it. They just didn’t understand. No one could understand the connection you had with your Agatha.

“How about we start with this and see what happens?”

She grasped both of your hands in one of hers, the other slipping past the waistband of your jeans. She chuckled, low in her throat when she felt how wet you were. You let out a shaky breath both unsure what she wanted from you, but wanting to give it to her.

Her finger was slow as it circled over your clit. Your breath was loud to your own ears. Soft lips attached themselves to your skin, sucking at your pulse point, tongue pressing down to feel your blood thrum. Her hips ground against your ass, pushing you more firmly against her fingers.

“Did you enjoy your little display in class?” she asked, whispered into your skin, “did you enjoy trying to take control?”

You couldn’t move as her fingers were slow on your bundle of nerves. You made a small noise, a whimper or a moan or something that was pathetic with need. Her teeth nipped at your skin, not gentle but not as harsh as she’d been with you before. It was like butterflies exploding in your stomach all over again.

“Such a display for me,” she murmured, “I think you’d like my fingers to make a pretty necklace for you.”

“Yes,” you hissed.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you touched yourself. My name was a nice touch, pet. Because you are mine. My little pet to play with.”

You whimpered at her words.

“Do you like that? You like being mine? Mine to do with as I please?” Her lips brushed over her skin, “do you like being owned by me, pet?”

“Uh huh,” was all you managed to say as her fingers continued to play with your clit.

“You know what I enjoy most about owning you?” she asked, voice a soft murmur.

You let out a desperate noise in answer. You felt her smile against your skin.

“I have complete control over you,” she said.

Her fingers were rough, nothing but harsh strokes, drawing you closer to the precipice. You were trying to rock against them, to chase your high like the needy thing you knew you were. You were panting, pinned to the desk, not even feeling the pain of it anymore, so focused on the way she was making you feel.

Her fingers stilled. Your pained cry only seemed to amuse her, the chuckle a vibration through her chest.

“Agatha,” you pleaded.

“Complete.” Her thumb stroked over your clit again, “control.”

She held you there, fingers still resting against you, but not giving you the friction you needed. She ignored you, every noise you made, every wiggle of your hips, every pleading gasp of her name. It was torture, having her there and not being given what you wanted.

“I do own you, don’t I, kitten?” she asked, voice low, a note of something new in her voice.

“Yes,” you gasped, “I’m yours.”

She groaned, face buried in your neck. The way she kissed your skin, nipping, sucking, tongue tasting however much she could reach was surprisingly desperate. Even pinned to the desk, hands held in one strong grip, only able to sigh her name, you felt the way she pressed closer to you.

Her fingers sunk into you, so easily, your wetness making it so simple. You threw your head back, her name sweet honey on your tongue as she forced you back to the edge. So close, you could taste it. Fingers curling within you, stroking you, turning your head hazy. There was nothing you could do but clench your fingers and let her do as she wanted with your body.

You trembled, legs shaking, your moans so loud in the quiet office. You felt it in your lower stomach, the melting of fire through your veins, the beginning of muscles fluttering. Her hand stilled, slipping out of you.

“No,” you groaned.

“This is a punishment, pet,” she reminded you.

Her hand slipped out of your trousers, hand curling around your throat. Your slickness smeared over your skin and you couldn’t even care. You could happily become whatever mess she wanted you to be if she would only touch you again.

With her hold on you, she managed to get you to turn your head. Her lips descended on yours, soft despite the tight grip she had on you. When her tongue slipped between your lips, tasting you until you were melting, whimpering, pressing closer. She chuckled, teeth sinking into your lower lip, pulling on it. You were nothing but your base desires, needing her closer, needing her in every way. She possessed you in every single way it was possible to own another person.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” she mumbled against your lips.

“Yes,” you sighed.

“I’m not sure you have,” she said, drawing back.

“Agatha,” you whined.

“I do so love the way you say my name,” she said, eyes sweeping over you.

The fingers around your throat tightened. The noise you made was so pathetic, the auditory embodiment of need. Her eyes hard darkened, smouldering, molten as she looked at you.

“Do you want my cock, kitten?” she asked.

“Yes please,” you whimpered.

“So polite.” She let your hands go and gently stroked your hair, “keep your hands on the table and I might just let you have it.”

With one hand around your throat, the other dove back into your underwear, stroking through your dripping folds. Thumb grinding against your clit, the way you whined only seemed to drive her on. She was grinding against your ass and you were desperate for her. Your nails dug into the wood of the desk, doing everything in your power to keep them there as she did everything in her power to drive you mad with nothing but her fingers.

You were so sensitive under her touch, each stroke sending shockwaves through you. You trembled, every nerve ending on fire. Her hand only tightened around your throat until your airways cut off. Your fingers clenched, hips trying to rock against her, tears pricking at your eyes. You wanted her so much. You could taste your orgasm, could practically see it. It was right there, right within reaching distance. One more second and it would break over you.

Her hand pulled free again and the tear fell. She kissed it away from your cheek, tongue catching it. Releasing your throat, her body disappeared from behind you. You shivered in the chill, the frustration nothing but a familiar friend when it came to her. Her chair creaked.

“Turn around, pet,” she commanded.

You did, finding her leaning back in her chair, thighs spread, purple strap bobbing in the air. You swallowed, eyes trained on it.

“On your knees, pet.”

You fell immediately, the sharp pain not even registering. Crawling forward, you looked up at her, waiting for more orders. Her hands gently ran through your hair, blue eyes dazzling as she held your gaze.

“Go on,” she said, “suck my cock like the dirty whore I know you are.”

Your tongue ran up the length of it before you sucked the tip into your mouth. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, but you knew how to follow instructions, and if you were good enough you’d be rewarded. Her fingers were tangled in your hair, guiding you further down.

You did your best to relax your throat, taking her as deeply as you could. Her hips pushed up, lips quirking up as you gagged around her cock. Slowly pulling up again, you suckled on the tip before sliding down again. Her fingers tightened in your hair, the sharp pull making you moan around the silicone.

“Look at you. So good as sucking cock,” she murmured, voice husky, “you belong on your knees, pet.”

Her praise had you pressing your thighs together again.

“So pretty and all mine,” she sighed.

You redoubled your efforts, wanting more of her praise. You wanted to be her good girl. You wanted her to know you would do anything for you. You wanted to give her everything she deserved.

“Could spend all day like this with you. I’ve imagining it, you know. Sitting at this desk, you under there on your knees, your mouth put to work. Just imagine, sitting here, your mouth on me, as I’m doing office hours with my students. What do you think they’d do if they knew? If they could see you being so good for me? If they knew your rightful place was on your knees for me?” Her fingers sharply pulled on your hair, “but then I don’t want to share this sight with anyone.”

You groaned around her cock. Something in her softened.

“No, this sight is all for me,” she said, and you whimpered at the reverence in her voice.

Your hands grasped her bare thighs, head bobbing, guided by her hands in your hair. The way she praised you was so delicious, emptying your head of anything but her. There was only this, and the way you felt on fire with her. The ache of your knees was so distant, focused as you were on her.

“Such a pretty pet,” she murmured, “c’mere.”

Her hands in your hair pulled you off her with an indecent noise. Climbing to your feet, you looked down at her, wanting to touch and to taste and to melt into her. Her hands were steady as they unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down over your hips. You kicked them off. Her fingers ran along the waistband of your panties, your muscles jumping under her touch.

“I was going to keep you wanting as punishment,” she mused, “but you’ve been so good and I just can’t resist you.”

She lent forward, lips pressing to your lower stomach. Looking up your body, her eyes sparkled.

“You’re irresistible to me, kitten,” she whispered into your skin.

Her fingers hooked in the waistband of your underwear, dragging them slowly down your legs. You gasped when her tongue dove between your folds, tasting you, her soft hum going through you like electricity.

“You’re dripping for me,” she said.

Her tongue brushed over your clit, hips jumping towards her. She hummed again, a soft suckle against your bundle of nerves. Your hands landed on her shoulders, gripping tightly to keep your knees from collapsing beneath you.

“Please,” you begged, “Agatha.”

“Come here, pet.”

She positioned you on top of her, knees either side of her lap. When you sunk down onto her cock, you let out a low noise, relieved. Her hands grasped your hips tightly, keeping you there, holding you still. You tried to squirm, pushing your face into the crook of her neck, hiding your embarrassment from her.

“No, no, no, pet. I’m going to watch you unravel,” she said, lips brushing against your temple.

You stayed hidden, hips shifting, until she pinned you down. Held there, full up with her cock, you were a live wire, desperate and needy and losing your mind.

“If you want me to fuck you, you know what you have to do,” Agatha murmured, grip on you tightening.

Your shame wasn’t comparable to your need. You emerged from your hiding place, looking down at her, cheeks heating from the expression of raw desire on her face.

“That’s my good pet,” she said.

Her hands guided you up, just an inch, before pulling you down again. It wasn’t enough, but you couldn’t do anything but clutch at her shoulders. She was in complete control, you were nothing but hers to do with as she pleased. She watched you with greedy eyes, drinking in everything.

Your hips rocked against her, taking her strap as deep as it would go. You clenched around it, not able to help yourself. She’d brought you towards the edge too many times. All you could think about was giving in and doing anything you could to get your orgasm.

Bouncing on her cock, your fingers dug into her shoulder. The way she looked at you was pure liquid heat, eyes blown wide as you kept saying her name over and over again. Your head tipped back, exposing your throat to her. Her lips attached, as you knew they would, painting such pretty bruises on your skin.

Her fingers found your clit again, stroking you as you rode her as hard as she’d let you. You were a gasping mess atop her, chasing your orgasm with wild abandon. She wasn’t soft with you, taking everything she wanted, all you were willing to give, rough and demanding. She growled into your skin, teeth sinking in, fingers pressing bruises into your flesh. You were a wild animal, crying her name, clawing at her, wound so tight.

With one stroke, she broke the tension.

Your orgasm crashed into you. Your muscles stiffened, her name a strangled noise, holding on. Her fingers kept stroking you, drawing it out, making it last as long as she could as you milked her cock for all it was worth. The aftershocks kept you twitching as you fell forward, her arms catching you, gasping out your thanks to her.

She kissed your forehead, hair sticking to sweat coated skin. You pushed closer, wanting to feel her heart beat in time with yours. Her hands were running over your skin, along the line of your spine under your shirt, lips brushing over every inch of you she could reach.

You reached for her face, blindly pulling her into a kiss, soft and sated and relaxed. The way she kissed you back was nothing short of a claiming, kissing you deeper and deeper. With her still buried in you, all you could do was mewl, fingers pushing past the pins in her hair, clutching at her.

“Did you enjoy yourself, kitten?” she asked when she drew away.

“Yes,” you breathed, a whisper in the air shared between the two of you, faces still so close together.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are when you’re cumming on my cock?” she murmured, “how did I get so lucky to capture you?”

It was the most sentimental thing she’d ever said to you. You felt yourself melting. Your lips brushed hers, so gentle it made your heart ache.

“I should come to your classes more often,” you said.

Her chuckle sent your heart racing again.

“Clearly you haven’t learnt your lesson,” she said, “I knew I shouldn’t have indulged you.”

“Why did you?” you asked, nuzzling closer.

Her hands were still caressing your skin and you felt her breath ghost over your temple. Her kiss was soft, nose brushing over your skin, tongue darting out to taste you for a just a moment.

“Because I can’t say no to you, kitten. Not really,” she murmured and you wondered if you were actually meant to hear it.

She let you stay curled around her for longer than you’d expected, on her lap, arms curled around your body. Your eyelids fluttered shut. Every time she moved you felt her strap shift within you. The way the heat of pleasure settled under your skin was pleasant, not desperate yet, but comforting and soft and warm. Familiar. You felt safe and cared for, right there in her lap and in her arms.

“You should probably get dressed,” she said after some time had passed.

“Don’t wanna,” you replied, lips brushing her throat from your spot against her body.

“I’m all for you staying right here but I didn’t lock the door and if someone comes in they might have questions,” she said, “questions I’m happy to answer about bad girls needing discipline but you might not want everyone to know you can’t follow simple orders.”

“I can follow orders,” you protested.

“Then get dressed, pet” she said.

You whimpered when she slipped out of you, feeling empty without her cock inside you. She lent forward, snatching up your underwear before you could. She shoved them in the pocket of her trousers as she tugged them back into place, looking for all the world like she hadn’t just been inside you.

You dragged your jeans up your legs. She carefully buttoned them up for you, fingers brushing your skin. The look in her eye when she looked up at you was so full of something it took your breath away. You wished you could name it but all you knew was it made you feel like you’d been dunked in oil and set alight. It only got stronger as you buttoned up her shirt, hiding the lace from view again. Your fingers lingered in the dip between her her collarbones, such a vulnerable spot, so soft under your fingertips.

“Go on, pet. I know you have work to be getting on with,” she said, gently pushing your hand away.

“But I’m so tired,” you whined.

“Don’t be a brat,” she scolded but there was a twinkle in her eye, “I’m not sure you could handle any more punishment today.”

You held out just long enough to let her know you were thinking about it. You dropped onto the sofa, doing exactly what she’d told you. More work. Always more work on your thesis.

But you couldn’t wait for the next time she brought you to class with her.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness #agatha all along

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 11 months ago

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❤ Yandere Teacher ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Teacher-Student dynamic; Non-Con.

Merry Christmas! 🎄💖

◾ Yandere!Teacher who immediately gets interested in you.

You don’t seem anything like most college girls, maybe because you don’t throw yourself at thim, batting your eyes at him and pushing your chest out in hopes of catching his attention, like many of your colleagues do.

He knows why they do it. He’s young and attractive, teaching in a college whose reputation is the definition of academic excellence.

◾ Yandere!Teacher who will personally organize the classroom layout, making sure you get the best seat in the house, which coincidentally happens to be right in front of his desk. That way he stays close to you, his eyes often drifting to you as he lectures the class.

◾ Yandere!Teacher that frequently interacts with you, asking if you wanna share an exercise's solution or requesting for you to read out loud a text.

Your reactions are the cutest, he thinks. The adorable way you get shy, sinking into your seat like you want to melt against it and disappear.

◾ Yandere!Teacher who wholeheartedly believes you to be a talented student, although your grades are mediocre. You are brain and beauty, the perfect combination.

Hence why he adds a few additional points to your grade, wanting to see that beautiful smile of yours instead of ugly disappointment,

◾ Yandere!Teacher that is fully aware of how wrong it is to have a crush on you - his student - but he can't stop himself from imagining how a relationship with you would look like. The way you’d hug him, pushing your warm lips against his, happy to see him.

He imagines romantic picnic dates, with you perched on his lap while feeding him strawberries.

And even worse is when his mind drifts to the two of you creating a small family together. He knows you’re both relatively young but he’s certain that together you could be the best of parents.

◾ Yandere!Teacher that stalks all of your social media, seeking for anything that could give him more insight on you. What are your hobbies, what type of movies do you like, do you post photos with your family or friends,...

In reality, he’s accidentally clicked one too many times on the like button, panicking before hastily removing it. You never mention it during the classes, but sometimes you give him a weird look.

◾ Yandere!Teacher that progressively grows frustrated with your lack of interest towards him. While most girls shamelessly throw themselves at him, you don’t. A distant expression and face ducked down as you take notes is all he gets from you.

Even when he accidentally bumps into you around campus, it's a struggle to get you to open-up as he tries to do small talk with you.

◾ Yandere!Teacher whose blood boils when catches you laughing and joking around with a guy.

He wants to drag you away from the asshole before punching a hole into his face, his imagination running dangerously wild as he imagines all the things he would do to the student, just for making you laugh like that.

But he doesn’t get mad at you. No, it’s not your fault. You have a kind heart, which automatically makes you naive - unable to see the other guy’s evil intentions.

He doesn’t care about you, he’s probably just thinking of ways to get inside your pants.

◾ Yandere!Teacher who invites you to stay a bit longer after class, in order to discuss some aspects of your individual project. He notices the nervous way you fiddle with your fingers, uneasy to be alone with him.

He doesn’t understand why. He loves you and he’s never been anything but kind towards you.

Your anxiety only increases when the older man places his hand on top of yours, starting to confess the ardent admiration he has for you and how much he thinks you’re gorgeous.

That he feels a special connection between the two of you, something very precious.

Despite his best attempts of convincing you that you are meant to be together, you’re too stubborn to accept it peacefully. You scream and shout like a crazy girl, scratching and pushing him as he tries to reason with you.

◾ Yandere!Teacher who ends up bending you on his table, pushing your cheek pressed against the cold surface as he forcefully fucks you, his lips passionately kissing every inch of exposed skin, inebriated on your sweet taste.

You cry and whimper, his scarf shoved inside your mouth as he punctures you with deep, sharp thrusts while whispering apologies in your ear.

He uses you as a flashlight, setting a fast pace as his cock bruises up your insides till your core is aching and desperate for him to finish already.

◾ Yandere!Teacher who didn’t mean to break you like this, your pitiful swollen face making him feel bad about what he did, but at least now you know about his feelings for you.

He’ll make it up for you when he takes you back to his apartment. A warm shower and a good night's sleep will improve your mood. He’ll persuade you to be with him, to accept him.

He knows he’ll be successful eventually and maybe after a few times of making love to you, you’ll also see his side.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x you #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #tw: noncon #tw.noncon #yandere concept #female reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines

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austinbutlerslovers · 7 months ago

Text

Teachers Pet

Label Mature 18+

Summary When you begin to fail Professor Butlers advanced math class in college because you can’t stop fantasizing about him, he comes up with a way to satisfy your lust and increase your grade simultaneously. When you are finally on the verge of receiving an F he propositions you. The more you sexually gratify him the higher he will raise your grade.

Student teacher relationship

🚨 Depraved smut 🚨 sex for benefits• unequal power dynamics •sex with position of power• sex with a teacher •manipulation •coercion• long con• forced exposure to self pleasure • coercion seeing self pleasure• romance denial • sexual obsession• edging •fingering • clit play• panty play• oral sex fem receiving• size kink• p in v•multiple orgasms•squirting• ejaculated on •dubcon

The VIPs 🏆 (I struggled w too many ideas for this & they saved me) 📖Plot Consultant @purejasmine 📕 Scenario Consultant @darlinboypresley

Master List ••• Upcoming List

Teachers Pet

‘Professor Butler’ You wrote his name in your note book encircling it with hearts as you smiled to yourself.

He was your advanced mathematics teacher in college and even though his class became extremely difficult you still wanted to be so smart for him.

You look up from your note book in his class and watch him drawing odd shapes on the board explaining a theory for the test tomorrow. You already know you are definitely going to fail.

All you do is get lost staring at him on full display in front of the class now.

When he would walk around the room being engaging you would stare lustfully at his fit body.

When he neared your desk reading from his math text book to the class you would study his handsome face.

When he would explain a new theory looking sternly as he wrote out the equations you would stare into the depths of his blue eyes.

You were especially drawn to his full lips, the way they would curve into a smile when he was passionate about an idea.

His voice was like rich honey and his body was tall and trim. With his perfectly feathered sandy brown hair, and gorgeous smile you were no longer able to pay attention to any of his lectures.

The way he dressed was classic and masculine. You especially loved the blue button up shirt he had on today. He’s worn it over a dozen times and you think it must be his favorite. He paired it with blue jeans that maybe be didn’t realize completely accentuated his cock.

It drove you wild when he would rest back on his desk and his crotch would bunch up at the zipper. You already knew he had an obscenely large cock and it made you shiver at the thought.

As he rests back on his desk in the compromising position again you began to reminisce about the time you saw his large erect cock. You squeeze your thighs shut and quickly look away biting your lower lip trying to regain composure but your core is already throbbing at this point.

You search the room to see if anyone else is aroused in the front row instead of learning math, but you are only one.

It hadn’t always been this way, before it was a simple crush, he was your very kind and handsome math teacher who adored your brilliance.

The infatuation began the first week of second semester. Professor Butler requested you to come to class half an hour early which wasn’t unusual you were his top student then.

He would go over your notes with you and have discussions about upcoming class assignments. His stance was always kneeling by you with one hand placed on your desk and the other resting on the back of your chair.

Being so close with him was very intimate. It made you feel like you were being drawn into his orbit and that every breath he took resonated with yours.

In the magnetic pull of the shared space, you could feel his warmth and his rich voice as it carried even more weight being so near.

He had you going over an advanced equation that was giving you difficulty for the upcoming test. You had never struggled in his class before and it made you apprehensive.

As you worked out the problem he began to slowly trail his thumb across your back as he held your chair. It was the first time he had ever touched you.

The air become charged with anticipation, and his touch, intentional or accidental, sparked a cascade of sensations. It is a moment you distinctly remember when time seemed to pause.

As he continued to slowly trail his thumb across your back you understood it was intentional.

You stared at the pencil in your hand which had come to a stand still on the paper.

“Does it distract when I encourage you?” He asked gently.

“N-no it’s fine” you stammered and willed yourself to finish the equation even though his touch completely altered your mindset.

He pulled the paper from your desk when you set your pencil aside and he examined your work. He slowly smirked

“You got it wrong” he said looking back into your eyes. “Try again.” He said placing the paper on your desk.

You blinked in shock that you gotten it wrong but began to work again as his striking blue eyes studied you, the pressure had never been so intense.

In that moment you weren’t sure if you were doing the work to be a good student or doing the work to be good for him.

He was only focused on you, lingering on every curve of your face and every movement of your hand as you willed it to stop shaking. You began scratching out your current work to start over. Your confidence was wavering you wanted to prove yourself so badly.

He tenderly placed his hand around yours to stop you and guided it back to a certain set of numbers in your formulation “Here is where you went wrong, this is where you second guessed yourself” he revealed. You stared over at his handsome face and desired him greatly your eyes immediately fell to his full lips before you quickly looked away.

You forced yourself to focus and found your mistake beginning to do the math correctly the second time. Thats when he slowly trailed his thumb across your back again sending ripples of sensation through your skin, igniting a spark of connection that transcended words.

You stopped working and stared straight down at your paper only able to focus on his touch. Seeing you so distracted he slowly trailed his hand up to your shoulder giving it a tender squeeze.

“I’ll let you get back to your work, but I want you to come in early again tomorrow.” He stated as he stood. You nodded in agreement and he left you to complete your work.

As you watched him walk back down to his desk you wanted him to come back you wanted him so badly. But you felt very guilty because you were well aware Professor Butler was married, he clearly wore a wedding ring on his left hand.

Due to the amount of time and proximity together you developed a deep crush on him and with just a touch it clouded your entire judgement. Was he attracted to you or was he encouraging you?

You found out the answer the next day.

Compromised

You arrived to Professor Butlers class early as he requested and entered the room silently not to distract him as he worked.

As you quietly closed the door behind yourself you finally looked to him and caught him in a position of complete compromise. With his laptop open he was pleasuring his very large cock.

You stood frozen watching him, his eyes were closed in bliss and he was making short breathy noises. You fell into a daze of arousal until his eyes opened locking with yours and shocking you out of your trance. You scurried across the room trying to pretend you didn’t see.

He quickly clicked the buttons to turn off his screen and fidgeted with his hands beneath the desk to put his large cock away before quickly standing.

He knocked over his thermos in the rush and reached for it but the container clattered to the floor sending tea flying everywhere. Hearing the noise you stopped in your tracks.

“I’m so Professor Butler I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you like that .” You said in a panic. You don’t know why but you are the one who felt embarrassed.

“What did you see?” He asked a little breathless

“N-nothing Professor Butler” you said as your hands fidgeted nervously from the lie.

You eye his shirt completely ruined as well as his desk. “Are you okay?” You asked because you know the tea must’ve been very hot.

He slowly relaxed his composure and began unbuttoning his shirt as he responded.

“Yea I’m fine I always bring a change of clothing incase of accidents like this.”

You sucked in a breath because before your could even turn he had already stripped the shirt from his body.

You blinked stunned staring at him instantly aroused by his muscular physique. As he looked up his eyes met with your gaze you quickly turned on your heels to give him privacy.

You heard him mutter “Fuck my pants are wet too” making your face blush you’d never heard him upset or cuss… ever. Nothing phased him.

You began to climb the steps to your seat as you heard him open his desk drawer. By the time you were seated he was almost finished buttoning on the new clean shirt he retrieved.

“I have to go to my office .” He announced glancing at you as he left the classroom.

The room became eerily quiet without his presence and sitting in silence you noticed the tea was still spilled on his desk. Wanting to be helpful you decided to clean it up while he was out of the room. You were also secretly dying to know what he was looking at on his laptop. Collecting a towel from the white board you came to stand at his desk wiping it down.

As you got close to his laptop patting up the liquid spilled near the keyboard you pressed the space bar and it turned on to reveal your college id picture on the screen. Your knees went weak with all the information flooding your mind at once. He was pleasuring himself to your photo before you arrived to see him.

You quickly pressed the sleep key to turn the screen off and put the towel in the class hamper. You rushed to your desk and sat down in a daze, should you leave? Should you stay? Is he going to cheat on his wife with you ?! Your heart was pounding as he entered the classroom wearing a pair of new jeans.

He walked to his desk and saw the mess had already been cleaned then he pressed his laptop screen on seeing the display, he looked up directly at you. You panicked averting your eyes quickly to your desk, you were frozen you couldn’t even pretend to do anything else.

You had such crush a crush on him yet finding out he felt the same stunned you. You wondered what would be the bigger problem for him if the school found out or his wife found out.

As he made his way up you avoided his gaze by staring down at your hands on your desk as you picked at your nails. He slowly crouched down next to you peering at you like he had done a dozen times before but this time it was different.

You watched his finger trace down your hand to get your attention as his voice broke the silence

“What did you see?” He asked again more directly.

“I didn’t see anything Professor Butler.” You answered knowing the ramifications of your next actions.

He studied your body language for the tell tale sign you are lying. Your knee bounced uncontrollably under the desk and he coyly smiled.

“You have tells when you lie.” He said gently.

“Professor… I don’t want you to get in trouble.” You blurted out.

He smiled. “What did I do that would get me in trouble ?” He said beguilingly.

You finally looked over to him and his eyes were soft and kind as he looked into yours. His gaze shifted down to your lips. He was deep in thought as he leaned closer before he hesitated regaining his senses.

“I should get ready for class” he said standing and leaving you at your desk.

Your heart broke into pieces. He had wanted you but he calculated it, and he didn’t like the odds.

After that day he no longer looked at you or smiled at you, what was far worse is that he completely ignored you. The test you studied for with him you passed but you began to fail every sub-sequential one soon after.

You knew not to an ask him for help because he would refer you to the tutoring center like he did for all his other students. When you got to a C- you finally went, and to your dismay the tutors only gave you the answer key. They were cocky and rude talking down to you and even out right dismissive when you asked for help.

You missed the way Professor Butler would gently tutor you, he helped you immensely. But he never requested to see you again and you never asked.

Knowing he desired you made you physically crave him on a subconscious level. All you could do was think about him in class, and in your dorm, you lost track of your studies in his course entirely.

Once you were at a D- you sat in bed in your dorm wondering how you lost the concept of math so quickly. You also contemplated how badly you were going to fail him for the upcoming test. You couldn’t accept your fate of receiving an official F in Professor Butlers class it was too painful.

Satisfy Your Lust

When you finally snap to attention in class Professor Butler is handing out the practice tests. You quickly put your notebook away, the test is tomorrow and you desperately hope this will help you pass.

He addresses the class as he walks the room. “Okay so now that we’ve gone over all the concepts this week, here is what you’ve all been waiting for the practice test!” he says holding up a thick stack of papers smacking it lightly in his hand.

The class groans as he begins handing a stack to the first person of each row as he continues “Hey you guys this is mandatory stuff this is what’s going to help you pass the test tomorrow I wouldn’t misguide you.” he affirms.

Professor Butler drops a stack at your row and you collect one test before handing the stack to the next student.

You feel the room shrink as you look at the hieroglyphs on the paper. You want to curl up into a ball.

Professor Butler checks his watch and then the clock above the board for the second hand.

“Okay I’m gonna call it right… about…now. You have thirty minutes to complete the practice test when you are done drop the completed packet in the basket on my desk and return to your seat” he announces to the entire class.

Everyone begins working.

Your eyes fill with fear as you look at question one, you are going to fail so badly. You shakily write your name and start. The first question is multiple choice. You work through the math on a sheet of scratch paper to get your answer.

When you check the choices your answer isn’t even there. You try question two and three before the defeat starts eating you alive. The questions only increase in complexity and you begin circling multiple choice and filling out word problems at will.

When Professor Butler kneels next to you it catches you off guard but you are hopeful that maybe he can tell you have no clue what you are doing and will finally offer assistance.

When he is eye level you look to him and are mesmerized by his stunning face again. You missed being so close to him and are comforted by his presence. He has a look of perplexity as he leans in to speak privately with you.

“I don’t know how to tell you this but…” he glances around then back to you whispering very closely not to be overheard “your legs spread open like that is very distracting to me” he confesses and checks your reaction.

Your face flushes bright red as you snap your legs together faster than lightening. His eyes soften looking at you as his full lips curve into a smile.

“Our little secret.” he says smiling at you. Being so stressed you forgot to cross your legs and the embarrassment swells inside of you.

He stands up and returns to his desk. As he is seated you can see he has full view to look directly between your legs the entire time …. and of all days you wore a mini skirt with pink panties that have little red hearts on them. You want to die.

One by one everyone stands and places their tests in the basket and you quickly fill in the remaining answers to seem timely. As you place your test in the basket Professor Butler collects it and immediately begins circling your answers in red. Your confidence plummets.

The bell rings with his stopwatch signaling the end of the practice test and you let out a sigh. You feel completely hopeless about receiving your first F tomorrow and quickly gather your back pack.

As you pass Professor Butlers desk he calls to you.

“Hey wait up a sec.” He says from his seat gesturing you back. You stop in your tracks stunned, this is the first time he’s addressed you to speak with him in days. A few girls push past you in your disorientation.

One of them even turns back to mouth “teachers pet.” to taunt you before she exits the class.

Though you were once top student of his class you are definitely not teachers pet anymore, you are going to fail him and there’s nothing you can do about it.

You stand in front of his desk as he sits and waits for everyone to leave the class. He is leaned back in his seat, fingers interlaced and elbows on the arm rests. He is in deep contemplation as he looks at you.

“How confident do you feel on your knowledge of the test tomorrow?” he asks staring at you with eyes full of inquiry.

You shift on your feet and bite your lower lip as you lie “Really good.” He watches as you nervously fidget tugging the hem of your skirt, your body obviously betraying you.

“Fail this test tomorrow and it’s an F in my class.” He says sternly and as he stands he gives you a look that adds to the sting of his words.

“I know Professor Butler“ you confess almost out right apologizing for your actions.

“What is happening with you? You were my top student?” He asks as he collects a spray bottle and cloth to wipe the board. You gaze over him lustfully as he wipes it down remembering him shirtless.

“I…I-I’ve been really distracted lately.” You admit regaining your thoughts.

“Distracted by what? This is the answer you give me every time, why won’t you tell me.” He asks earnestly as he puts the bottle and cloth away.

Professor Butler then firmly places his palms flat on his desk as he stands behind it. His blue eyes are piecing as they search yours. “If you won’t say what it is how do you expect me to help you?” He asks directly.

You bite your lower lip at the mere thought of telling him to help in the way you need him. Yes Professor Butler I sexually fantasize about you in class and want to make it a reality. I saw you pleasuring yourself and I know you want me too… you cut your thoughts short. You know he’s already made up his mind about how far he will go and he would never go for that.

The tension amplifies between you two quiet moment.

“Let me see your notes.” He demands and your eyes go wide.

“M-my notes?” You ask in shock, you know only his name is written in your notebook surrounded by hearts.

“Yes your notes the ones you should’ve been taking as I was speaking today. I practically outlined the test, but you would know if you were paying any attention.” He says giving you a glance.

Your heart beats wildly from his direct line of questioning, when he sees you are speechless he continues it.

“What are you always thinking about when I’m talking?” He asks as he walks around his desk and sits on the edge. He crosses his arms and slightly rests back directly in front of you. Your eyes immediately fall to the outline of his enormous cock in his jeans when he sits that way.

Your face flushes pink as you begin to feel so much arousal you can’t breathe all you keep thinking about is him pleasuring his big cock.

“Professor Butler I…” your words stick because you are very apprehensive to straight admit your feelings for him now.

You try again changing your answer “Professor Butler I think about other things when I should be focused on your class.” You admit.

He gives you a look of disappointment. “You second guess yourself” he says and you nod quickly hoping to be off the hook.

“Let’s go over the practice test we did in class today to see where the second guessing starts, would you like that ?” He asks uncrossing his arms.You are so grateful you literally want to kiss him.

“Yes please Professor Butler I would like that so much.” You say feeling hopeful.

He walks across the class and pulls a chair to his desk replacing it with his so you can sit with him. He motions for you to sit in his desk chair.

You feel a smile form on your face as you walk around his desk. This is the first time you’ve been alone with him in weeks and you know he has the magical key that will unlock math in your brain. You drop your back pack and sit down in his comfortable desk chair.

Your heart flutters wildly as he sits directly next to you. His sandy brown hair is feathered beautifully, his smell is pleasant, and his side profile is stunning.

You watch how his eyes sternly study your practice test looking over each answer encircled in red. He suddenly leans over you making your heart skip as he reaches his hand into the desk drawer pulling a pencil and a piece of paper.

He places them on the surface in front of you getting right to business.

“Write out this equation for me” he says placing your practice test down and pointing to question one. You slowly write out the equation in your nicest handwriting.

“Okay start breaking it into smaller equations to simplify it” he instructs. You look up to him clueless obviously you don’t know how.

He takes a deep breath. “Always so distracted ” he mutters under his breath. It shocks you that he would call you out so harshly and your heart sinks thinking this is the last time he will ever help you.

He begins to break down the equation easily his hand scribbles across your test quickly with his years of expertise on the subject.

“Try again” he says pointing to number three. You peer at his handwriting from number one to discern what he did because number three is a similar equation.

You complete the work and slide the test to him after encircling a new answer. He looks it over and his mouth curves into a smile.

“I did it right?” You ask eagerly awaiting his response.

“Well there’s a reason you’ve always been my favorite student, you are a quick learner.” he admits smiling at you before he leans over to collect your scratch paper. You can’t contain your grin when he says you are still his favorite.

“You did that so easily your steps are flawless, I taught this on Tuesday why couldn’t you grasp the concept then?” He asks earnestly studying your scratch work.

You think back in your mind to Tuesday that was his blue sweater day with light denim jeans you weren’t thinking about a thing when he wore that outfit.

“On Tuesday I wasn’t feeling well” you muster up picking at the hem of your skirt.

He tilts his head down catching your lie.

“Because your were too focused on me instead of what I was saying right” your eyes go wide all you do is stare at him and daydream, it’s impossible not to you want him so badly.

He sits back and smiles “Eye fucking is what I believe they call it “ he says smugly resting his hand across his chin gauging your reaction.

You begin to squirm and fidget as your breathing increases. You feel as if you've committed some illegal crime.

“Professor Butler I would never do that” you lie panicked tugging harder at the hem of you skirt. He suddenly gets up leaving you at his desk and goes to the door of the classroom. He locks it while you sit in place.

The energy in the room immediately changes once the lock clicks and he walks back toward you with his demeanor changed.

He stands in-front of you so closely in your chair you have to stare up at him. “Do you already know you are going to fail the test tomorrow? Be honest with me.” He says directly.

You nod “Yes of course Professor, I haven’t been taking notes or paying attention in any of your classes for weeks. I already know Im going to fail.” You say honestly.

“Is that why you flashed me your panties today?” he asks sternly as his breathing increases. “Is that what your are doing now hm? Soliciting yourself to me to improve your grade?”

Your eyes snap up to his in shock “Professor no I-I wasn’t I wouldn’t” you confess. He waits for you to nervously fidget but you are telling the truth.

You look up at him innocently “It was an honest mistake…but I can see why you would think it was on purpose. I do think of you sexually during class Professor Butler.” You out right admit

He smiles and kneels down placing his hands on the armrests trapping you in his desk chair. He turns you to face him loving the fact that you finally admitted it.

“I feel your eyes staring at me all the time during class. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing I’ve caught you staring at my cock over a dozen times now.” He says studying your body’s reaction to see how badly you want him.

Your privates begin to pulse just from him saying the word cock and you squeeze your thighs together tightly trying to contain your arousal.

The move doesn’t go unnoticed by him and he goes all in to have you.

“That’s why I never look at you during class. You have the most lustful eyes I have ever seen.” He says seductively.

Your breathing increases as he stares at you trapped by him in his chair. His eyes wander your body lustfully until he meets your gaze again.

“When I look at you I lose all my focus because I can’t get it out of my head how badly you need me to fuck you.” He says deliberately.

You let out a slight whimper

He leans in closer as you stare at his lips absorbing every word. “I think I have a solution to both of our problems, one that will fix your grade and satisfy your lust at the same time.” when he says those words your arousal goes through the roof. “I know you saw me pleasuring my self to your photo, I know I’m the reason your failing.” He confesses staring down between your thighs.

“Do you want me to improve your grade?” He asks staring back into your eyes as you readily nod. “Do you want me to satisfy your lust for me?” He asks staring at your lips.

“Y-yes please help me Professor Butler” you desperately beg. He smiles at your eagerness. “alright I’ll help you.” His says seductively.

“Before we start I have ground rules” he affirms as you stare back at him. “I’m separated but I’m still married, I could get in big trouble for this.” He says holding up his wedding ring finger as he continues “My job will be in jeopardy as well but I really want you to pass, so this has to stay our little secret, can you do that for me?“ he asks with his eyes locked on yours.

“Yes Professor Butler it will be our little secret.” You agree.

“Call me Austin” he says with a grin.

“Yes Austin it will be our little secret” you confirm

"I know you’ll keep our secret because you want this just as badly as I do. Now lift up your skirt for me” he commands

You look him in the eyes and theres a brief moment you think of stopping, but you know how badly you want him deep inside. Your hands lift your skirt pulling it all the way up your thighs exposing your panties to him.

“Fuck.” He says above a whisper seeing your already wet for him. “This is even hotter than I imagined it” he admits.

“Y-you imagine being with me Profess- - Austin?” You ask in surprise.

He trails his hand along your thighs as he speaks

“I have imagined you like this so many times, fucking you on my desk as you stare at me with those lustful eyes.” He confesses as his hand slides under your skirt skimming his fingers across the silk material of your panties. You gasp in pleasure from the feeling. “Have you ever touched yourself while you think of me” he asks as he rests his hands on your knees.

“Yes Austin” You pant out and he smiles.

“Tell me how you do it” he asks and you whimper as he leans in close and his lips slowly brush against your neck. He gently sucks onto your skin and you finally touch him reaching your hands up and running your fingers through his soft sandy brown hair as you answer.

“I-in my bed at night I think of you on top of me” you confess as he sucks your neck harder. “ a-and in the shower I imagine you infront of me.” He pulls his lips from your neck and smiles.

“The way you obey me so easily you must have been aching for me badly haven’t you?” He asks teasingly and it makes you want him even more “Open your legs for me.” he commands.

You obey and spread your legs wide open as he touches both of your thighs sliding his fingertips higher up to your pussy. You whimper as he trails them back down to stroking your legs again.

Your body is already craving his every touch and your chest begins rising and falling rapidly as he brings his hands up your thighs again. This time he strokes your pussy through the smooth fabric of your panties making you lightly moan.

“You are so wet for me” he observes as his finger tips trail your folds stopping at the nub of your clit.

"My touch feels good doesn't it?" he asks pushing his fingers against the fabric over your clit. You clench inside as he continues to guide his fingers down your pussy pressing the fabric into your folds

“You feel so good Austin” you admit with your eyes closed in passion.

Your breaths are already fast and shallow trying to hold yourself together and he hasn’t even done anything yet

"Do you know what I want to do to you?" He asks peering into your eyes as you open them.

It is very obvious what he wants to do to you as he plays with your pussy, but you still desperately want to hear him say the words, and as if he was waiting for you to ask he answers

“I'm going to play with your little pussy until I make you cum, and then I want you to make me come too” he says and slides his fingers up and down your slit, forcing the fabric against your folds as you moan.

Your back arcs as he finds your clit and presses down on it flicking his fingertip to it and making you moan even louder. He stops flicking your clit and slowly massages it alternating with stroking your pussy.

"Oh god! Austin" you cry out, gripping the edges of the chair as he fully focuses on flicking your clit.

Hearing the squishing sounds of your wetness he stops and pushes the band of your panties to the side. His fingers touch your naked flesh and you begin moaning and clenching around nothing as he fingers your bare clit and teases the inside of your folds. He doesn’t stop until you are dripping for him.

"Get naked for me.” He comands and you obey with your fingers shaking as you take off your shirt and your bra.

Once you are topless he leans in and begins licking the smooth skin around your nipples.

His fingers are still playing with your pussy, holding the band of your panties aside with his middle finger plunging inside of you as his thumb slides around your clit.

"Do you like what I’m doing to you " he asks between licks of your nipples as he slides his fingers into you. You nod with your mouth open panting because you can’t even form the words. "You're going to cum, aren't you?” He asks smiling as he feels your legs quiver against his hand.

“Y-yes!” You struggle to say.

This has always been his secret desire playing with your body for his sexual gratification.

He drew you in to push you out he wanted you afraid yet enraptured to have him, it thrilled him to manipulate you. He had been right about you all along, his favorite student, to be used and pleasured by him and only him it drove him absolutely crazy.

“You’re going to cum for me, cum right in my fucking hand and I’ll give you a C” He says increasing his pace.

"Oh god Austin," you moan out and buck your hips in time with his hand to give him exactly what he wants. Your hips and thighs flex pushing onto his fingers and his eyes hyper focus as he feels you clench down and orgasm.

He is so satisfied when he feels your warm cum pour over his plundering fingers that he begins cursing “fuck yes give it all to me” he pants out with his hand getting covered in your clear cum.

Your head falls back in ecstasy as he removes his fingers. “Lay over my desk I want to eat your pussy.” He commands your actions are delayed from the orgasm so he lifts you to stand from your chair and guides you to lay face down bent over his desk. He pulls the fabric of your skirt up to expose your ass and places his hands on the backs of your thighs kneading his thumbs on the soft flesh.

“Fuck your so perfect”. He says pulling the band of your panties to peek at your pussy “Your gonna taste so good Im presumptively raising your grade to a B” he says as you moan from his words. He focuses all his attention between your legs pushing the silky fabric of your panties into your clit “You gave me such a hard on today with your legs spread like that.” He says pulling your panties down as they cling to your wetness.

Once you step out of them he hides your panties in his shoulder bag under his desk. He immediately spreads your thighs apart with his hands and dives his mouth onto your pussy. “MMmmf” he sounds out clearly enjoying it

“M-my…god…A-austin” you moan out as your brain goes fuzzy from so many sensations running though your body at once.

He cups your ass licking your pussy harder and lifts your hips thrusting his tongue into your core as he groans. “You taste so fucking good” he says coming up for air as you whimper and moan on his desk.

He returns his mouth on you and it begins making slopping wet sounds as he flicks his tongue into your entrance and sucks your folds. Your core tightens so quickly you gasp for air from the pleasure as you squirm on his desk.

He pulls his mouth back. “Your pussy tastes so good that’s definitely B+” he admits and slides his long fingers into you pumping them in and out preparing you for his cock .

“A-au…Aus…tin…you…feel ….too …good.” you moan out on each thrust of his fingers.

“You gonna go back to your dorm after and touch yourself like this? You gonna play with your pretty pussy while you think of me?” He rasps

“Y-yes A-Austin ”you moan out louder than you expected losing your mind about to cum.

He slows his fingers inside of you. “Shhh shh we’re having too much fun I dont want to get caught.” He says smiling. You nod and he continues sinking his fingers into your soaked pussy.

You bring your hand to your mouth to stifle your moans as he goes faster thrusting his fingers into the sweet spot that makes you go weak for him.

You begin to moan louder feeling your core tightens as you clench on his fingers. “You’re close.” He says breathlessly. “You gonna cum again so I can give you an A?” He asks and you nod feverishly as you moan out “Yes… Austin” your words muffle as you moan through your hand.

He removes his fingers leaving you empty and picks your limp body up against him. “Come on home stretch I want to look at you while I fuck you.” He directs lifting you easily by your waist to sit on his desks. He spreads your legs apart and then unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants.

He pulls his erection out and the sheer magnitude of its presence leaves you in awe. It’s a moment of revelation surpassing all of your expectations as you are humbled wondering how he will fit it all inside of you.

You look into his eyes with a clash of curiosity and desire, and that’s all he needs. He pulls your body flush with his trapping his cock between your navels as holds you tightly against him. His lips collide with yours in a hunger that borders on primal. There’s a rawness to it and an urgency that ignites every fibre of your being.

As you open your mouth to his it is a tumultuous dance of tongues and lips, where the line between pleasure and pain blurs as he bites your lower lip in the heat of the moment. In that whirlwind of sensation, you’re swept away by the intensity of Austins kiss, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his embrace. You whimper in his mouth as he kisses you already so overwhelmed you can no longer think.

He pulls his lips back from yours panting as he studies your face “You’re so gorgeous to me I’ve always wanted you” he admits. His fingertips trace delicate patterns on your skin leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake as he looks into your eyes. His gaze is instilled with so much intimacy and connection you instantly feel the silent reassurance that you are safe and cherished.

“I’m going to make you mine now” he says sending chills all over your body.

He takes his long cock in his hand, pumping it as he spreads your legs apart again and positions himself at your entrance. He slowly pushes in taking his time to fill you with his entire cock making sure each inch is more pleasurable than the last .

“A-A-Austin!…Oh my fuck” you moan out feeling him stretching you full of him. You grip the back of his neck and moan loudly as he settles in you.

He sucks harshly on neck while tweaking your nipples and it makes your core throb as you clench on his large girth. He begins moving and your mind empties of every rational thought as you loudly moan out his name and he covers your mouth. His skin slaps against yours as he takes control of your body. His thrusts are hard and and fast as he grunts against your neck kissing and sucking it.

“Fuck you're so tight” he finally says focusing on thrusting even harder “you …feel so damn good …on my cock…even better than I imagined it.” He admits staring into your lustful eyes.

His thrusts begin to falter as his timing grows erratic and you feel the familiar tightening in your core again. Your moans are desperate and can no longer be held by just his hand.

He kisses you roughly to hold your loud pleasurable screams in as you experience the pure raw mind altering passion that can only be delivered on a huge cock. It’s something you’d never experienced in your entire life and now you were addicted.

“A-Austin I’m cumming .” You cry out gripping the edge of his desk as the orgasm sends a wave of ecstasy crashing over your entire body leaving you breathless. Your pelvic muscles tense and relax in rhythmic waves as pleasure pulses through every nerve ending of your body. “ oh fuck Austin oh fuck!” You cry out feeling yourself release cum all over his cock, onto your thighs and even his desk.

It’s dripping down your thighs as he says “holy shit” feeling you so wet his large cock practically glides in and out of you “That’s ……an ……A+… fuck I'm gonna cum!-“ he gasps.

When you feel his large cock twitch it make you cry out much louder than you should have and he pulls out shooting hot ropes of white hot cum all over your navel, moaning, grunting sweating and swearing until he’s empty.

“Hold still .” He says breathless leaning down to open a drawer. He pulls several sheets from a paper towel roll and gently cleans up your thighs and pussy before patting your stomach clear of his cum. He places paper towels over the puddle on his desk between your legs to absorb it. He keeps one hand on your waist as he leans to discards them all in the bin under his desk.

He pulls you to the edge of the desk and holds you close as you come down from your incredible high. You are euphoric as he kisses you, but this time it is tender and passionate and you feel the softness of his full lips against yours.

His finger tips caress your jaw as he smiles. “I’ve wanted you from the first day you started my class, I was never going to let you fail.” He reveals making you smile.

“Cmon we have work to do. He says pulling you down from his desk. He collects your bra and shirt handing them over to you while he zips and buckles his pants. When you pull your top down he makes a confession. “Your panties are mine now.” He admits grinning as he pulls a clean test sheet from his desk.

He sits down and pulls you onto his lap. “Let’s go over the practice test together to get you a 90% and for the rest of the semester I’ll help you pass okay.“ he says handing you a pencil.

“Really Austin?“ You say feeling so elated you smile at him.

“Yes of course you are my favorite and I made you a promise you’re getting that A+ you earned it.” He says pressing an affectionate kiss to your shoulder.

When he says you are his favorite again your heart flutters and you eagerly get to work. He helps you with each equation gently instructing you over your shoulder until the entire test is a polished gem.

“Mm look how smart my girl is” he says making you bashfully smile looking over your shoulder at him. He stares at you mesmerized. “You made me so happy that every time you step into my classroom now I’ll have to hide my smile.” He admits staring at you as he affectionately trails his thumb across your shoulder.

“How do you feel now by the way.” He asks with genuine concern. Your smile says it all

“I feel really good Austin” You admit feeling the stress and tension lifted entirely.

He pulls you around on his lap to face him and looks into your eyes. “I don’t ever want you to fail my class ever again. I want to pick you up from your dorm every weekend, so we can go over the class work at my house. I know all of your teachers and I don’t want you to stress about college anymore I’ll help you with all of your subjects. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can, ultimately I want you to be happy and succeed, can you do that for me.” He asks honestly.

“Yes Austin” you say peering into his blue eyes. You feel very safe and secure as he wraps you in his arms sitting on his lap.

Knowing that he’ll guide and mentor you is a bonus you are grateful to receive. As you sit up in his lap your breaths mingle as you stare into each others eyes and his warmth envelops you completely. With a gentle approach you press a soft and tender kiss on his lips and he closes his eyes holding you tighter.

His lips explore and trace the contours of yours with a gentle connection of intimacy that makes time seem to stand still as you seal your connection of obsession and passion. As your fingers weave through the strands of his sandy brown hair, you realize everything in this moment feels right and you wish you told him your feelings sooner.

❤️‍��End ❤️‍🔥

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capslocked · 1 year ago

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 9

[prompt: problematic relationships]

male reader x nana

10k words

"Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it?" Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt. "You, me - us?"

And here, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

So, go ahead, cue up the sound of a mental rolodex spinning out while you start to list the very real, very valid, very adult reasons you should never, ever put your hands on her. (1) She's too young for you, (2) you're kind of a community figure, or at least someone who has to appear to be one, and more pertinently (3) she was your student not long enough ago - in your ethics class, the irony of which is not lost on you - and that makes it the kind of dirty, low thing you'd feel guilty for even masturbating to. Let alone actually attempt to live through, no matter how insistent some parts of you might be to the contrary, a point emphasized by the pressure of her finger against the dip just below your sternum.

"These... oh, how should I call them." Nana hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

You're a high school teacher, interdisciplinary. Sometimes history, other times philosophy, you've also taught math - and once, egregiously, home economics when the faculty member whose usual duties consisted of teaching the class was out on a very sudden and scandalous maternity leave. But it's your love of literature that finds you in a bookstore near enough to the high school to sell more used copies of intro textbooks than actual novels.

You're paging through a book you'd say you're considering buying - if any of the store staff were to push the question onto you - when she appears at the other end of the fiction aisle.

You catch the look first of her dyed hair, this perfect shade of chocolate, to the edges, the fade-to-brown, cascading over where a more formal shirt would ostensibly have shoulders.

She smiles; it's pretty.

Then, you make the mistake of glancing down and seeing the modest rise of her chest beneath a crisp-collared sleeveless top; all your typical college-age tells but for the red flannel, rolled back down around her waist. Her fingers, long and thin, dangle from where a uniform button-down would taper off around her wrist, thumb rubbing lazily at her forearm. The briefest glimpse of her nails, all done up in acrylic - perhaps the most potent way to show contempt for an old dress-code.

You have, admittedly, also noticed the length (appropriately, the lack thereof) of her pleated skirt and those frilly stockings that ride so far up the creamy curves of her thighs that it has your stomach rolling and tightening when she shuts closed the book in her hands and says -

"Isn't it weird how most of the novels in the romance section are written by women?”

- she speaks with a slow deliberateness, like she'd only ever hoped to find one of her old teachers alone and slightly vulnerable in a used bookstore -

“Like, how do you think a man would even go about writing those kinds of stories?" She grins, because maybe this isn't really a question at all - not one meant for you, certainly. And for one wild moment, the rush of relief (she's not actually talking to you), then panic (she's actually talking to you.) surges through you.

But then the girl pushes another couple books along the shelf and continues.

"Because I'll tell you what, Professor - all this stuff," a flip-flip-flip of her fingertips against a leathery dustjacket, "about just feeling it, not being able to control it. It's all women, always women." Another wave of her hand to set another row of spines a-shuddering. "Do you ever think maybe people will get tired of listening to girls talking about feelings when what they really need to see is what guys would do?"

There are so many reasons you should turn and run.

So many little flags, flickering wildly in your mind. This is one of your students. Was it this fall? Maybe the last; she had sat front-center. Never slept in, was one of your best by several measures - not simply in regards to the simple repetition of classroom work, but by her insistence on getting in the kind of heated discussion where one might dig their fingers through the innards of your lectures. Not just good - fantastic.

"Nayeon," you end up saying, flat as your suddenly paper-dry mouth can make it - with just the tiniest hint of unease. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

And almost as if she knows that you're trying not to let your eyes dip any lower than the collar of her shirt, her shoulders do that lilting little move (hiking up and away just so), the one that your girls tend to learn a long, long time before your boys ever manage to figure out. She laughs out this pleasant sound, adds: "not that long, sir."

"Well," you're clearing your throat, looking around the bookstore like it might contain a way out, and eventually landing somewhere on her skirt, "you know how fast it all goes."

"Nana, by the way."

“I’m sorry?”

“Nana,” She gently corrects you again with this mischievous slant to her smile, and you start remembering: all the gossip and rumors, how she was being courted by these talent-scouts and labels. A prodigy, or as close to it as anyone from this town could ever get.

Your eyes are starting to sting again when she, this perfect-fit model of your worst impulses, runs her hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little bit, a silver wristwatch falling slightly down the perfect length of her forearm. It almost hurts not to reach out and steady her. And it definitely shouldn't, but it has you breathing a bit faster. The rationalization: you are a man, and there is a perfectly ordinary part of you that might be aroused by any amount of smooth, inviting skin. That's fine. You're fine.

"Just for the record," Nana starts, still looking like she wants to put a hand forward and hook one long fingernail into the buttons of your shirt. "You were, like, absolutely one of my favorite teachers."

"I guess it's nice to hear I'm not a complete lost cause," you say.

She snorts. "Oh, definitely not." And maybe because, after all of the years you have been teaching these soon-to-be lawyers, politicians, and doctors, you've come to not look down on them for saying the wrong things so much. Though you do envy their absolute ability to say the wrongest of things - just so - just on purpose.

"Are you," you nod at the thick stack of paperback novels that she is still holding, and with which, suddenly, she's bashful and flustered - this perfect shade of pink blossoming through her cheeks. "Actually here to buy those?"

The response: a demure little shrug. A drawl. "We all have our vices, professor."

"I'm not your teacher anymore," and remembering at the last moment, "Nana, you can drop the honorifics, please."

She holds a book out, cover turned toward you, and your mind stalls - even your fingers slip a little where they are resting on the spine of your own paperback purchase. The title is an affront to literacy, and the art on the cover seems to have been produced only with stock photos, gaudy.

"Have you heard of it?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well," she laughs and has the courtesy not to lay it at your expense, "it is so good." Then, without missing a beat, she twists her lips together, and finds the book flush against your chest. "I'm sure it beats reading textbooks and essays about the merits of Locke and Hobbes' life-after-death stuff all day, anyway. An hour if you can spare the time? I'd love to hear your thoughts on it"

And - ah, there it is. The push.

There is a zero percent chance that, after any of this, things will end neatly for either of you.

You still wonder, slightly, how long Nana will keep up the charade before breaking character - because there's no way in hell she doesn't see what she's doing: wrapping you around her pretty fingers, her shiny, manicured nails, twisting every chance you get to reject her into an excuse to linger that little bit longer.

But it's well over an hour spent at the cafe-end of the bookstore, where she orders an iced-coffee and fills you in on the details you don't really need to hear, what she's been up to these last couple semesters - playing twenty questions; questions about other faculty members, the school, if the school newspaper is still anything like it used to be (for the record: no), then coming back to if you've been seeing anyone lately. That last one slips in so naturally you can't stop yourself from taking a slow drag off of the straw in your drink and answering: "not recently."

Because no honest deed goes unpunished, or however the saying goes.

"Hey," her hands splay out over the tabletop, pushing the cold, condensing water of her glass, smudging where a finger drags a line through the pool.

Maybe she knows. How you're already caught, and there's no going back, which is to say you're perfectly free to watch, hungrily, where her throat moves, and then where her lips part.

"I’ve got the perfect thing for that," and for one unhinged, hysterical moment you picture it, Nana: lying back against a counter or maybe in the cushions of a sofa, panties thrown carelessly over her shoulder; heaving out this soft, heady gasp. You: pushing inside of her for the very first time, both of your legs bracing, the heel of her foot pressed into the small of your back - but before you can convince yourself that she can't be talking about that, and just barely before the air gets stuck in the back of your throat and you realize that you might be so thoroughly, tragically fucked -

"Read this." A snap back into the here and now. She is looking at you very pointedly, not naked - but beautiful and perfect as she leans a bit into the table and crosses those lovely, lovely legs of hers, and tilts the copy of that awful, awful filth at you.

"Nana, respectfully, this is drivel," you say, immediately and plainly, listening to Nana laugh out loud as you glean more than you need to know from the info on the inside cover. "They've crossed like five major genre boundaries for a hook-up. Why should anyone bother?"

"Come on." She waves it off with a careless gesture of her hands. "There's plenty of things to like. Maybe you should give it a chance - broaden your horizons, teach. Besides - the sex scenes?" She rolls her shoulders with the same shrug you remember watching so carefully all those times she made her way, out of the hallways and back into that front-and-center-seat she was always occupying whenever the bell rang. "So filthy. I can show you one of my favorites."

"Doesn't really seem like appropriate reading material for -"

"You said it yourself," her voice has a bright, saccharine tone, just on the right side of strained. And between sips of that straw stuck in the purse of her pert, little mouth, she draws that next sentence - the ice cracking, thinning under your feet -

"Not my teacher anymore."

Nana smiles; this brash, cock-sure thing that reminds you, as you try to clear your throat of the nerves making a bed there: you are actually so, so fucking gone on her. So far gone it hurts, when, with a flourish and a bounce and a complete, reckless lack of discretion, she starts paging through the first chapters.

"Who says you can't study these kinds of stories on an academic level? Think about it: sex sells. Whoever ends up writing, it's a whole lot easier and a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to do it all yourself." She looks up, this mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as she angles her fingertips down on the book and opens it - page after page of very obviously poorly-written sex. You look, not even consciously.

But of course, her fingertips drift lower and lower along the pages until it's evident: she doesn't have an exact page in mind, but only a particular passage -

"Here. Let me show you, just one."

"Alright, fine," you start - trying for an effect of exasperation, something to mitigate this god awful throbbing, "whatever - you get one, one sample paragraph and I'll, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, you'll definitely see. Just trust me. Just the one."

She drums her long, gorgeous nails against the table, then eases back with a finger highlighting the text.

You're screening and scanning the words as she tells you about the heroine in the story: a pretty girl who comes down with a bad case of infatuation for her teacher - unrequited, of course. And then, into a passionate affair, of course; all the most raucous, explicit details laid out over the table for everyone else to hear. She says it is about as nonchalantly as though she had been reading you the daily weather forecast and not an elaborate metaphor for - and here, you stop her.

"He cums on her desk?"

"Fucking hot, right?" She nearly snorts and gestures you onward, her eyebrows jumping - go on, go on.

So, you skim along: a heavy rush of nausea (alongside another) pulsing down around your gut at the thought of actually doing such a thing, your ears going hot and your legs crossing on instinct. There's not so much a breath of hesitation as Nana, cool, unfazed, and utterly unaware of the uncomfortable churning of your stomach and the simultaneous thrumming in your cock, takes another deep swig of coffee.

She hums, thoughtful. "Honestly? Kinda wished it happened to me like that. You were a good, good teacher, professor. I wouldn't have minded your hands all over me." You hear her laugh, and the entire universe collapses like the end-days. You are struck down with feverish conviction: this girl is the worst.

"Anytime you wanted," she adds, so carelessly.

There's a clunking sound, of glass on wood; a half a second where you almost lose control over yourself.

“Nayeon,” you let slip, the old name - a mistake of an invitation she grasps like a weapon. All coming to a glint in her eye that says she knows how you see it, how you can still picture her sitting with her hands folded over the skirt of her uniform, chest rising and falling beneath her cotton shirt. Studious, taking notes, acting every bit the naive sweetheart everyone believed her to be.

You shudder out some pretense of composure and settle back a few inches as she continues to coax a reaction out of you, prodding: "how many girls did you make confess back then, hm? Did it ever do them any good?"

"Dial it back, Nana."

Her expression is all feigned, gentle surprise. "But sir," she looks at you so innocently, "you said I should drop the honorific."

You want to argue that, you also want to tell her off for being such a brat - to demand that, instead, she cut the shit, sit back, and remember who you both are, but when, with a wink and a smirk, she's getting up out of her seat, Nana sets a gentle, reassuring hand on your shoulder as she pushes her chair back beneath the table. You get onto your feet, and when the two of you are stood close together like this - she's really and truly that much smaller than you remember. Waist so tiny you think you could almost, almost wrap two hands all the way around her; skirt rising all too easily when she tosses her weight between her heels.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," you tell her, sternly - the voice of a teacher whose patience is running thin.

But no matter where you look, the consequences are dire and immediate: an abject fascination, a kind of debilitating greed; the absolute fucking loss of ability to look her directly in her eyes. Not like Nana isn't staring right through you. There's no doubt some part of her relishes the feeling.

"Hey, what do I know?" This sweet, demure-like chuckle follows. "It's just porn, right?”

Eventually, Nana says to call it a night because the sun's long set into the horizon and the chill starts getting at the both of you.

She tells you while you're packing up your belongings to come by again sometime, her voice teasing as she explains that you should pick out a new novel to read for your benefit.

Which is possibly the ideal outcome, all things considered, if it wasn't for the way she found herself in your hands just a few paces into the parking lot - no one around to catch you, where you're gripping fast onto her wrist and pressing the lines of her body into door of your car, looming and ready to give a piece of your mind.

You know what you ought to say - things like don't bother, you've enjoyed her company, she's fun and sweet, and in a dozen different ways: be a good girl, and go home. You had your fun, didn't you? But she's practically begging, those huge, wide doe eyes that stare straight up into your soul.

"C'mon,” her voice lilts into a deeper, more purposeful register, “you wouldn't turn down a student on her way home, would you?

(This fucking girl.)

She speaks of propriety, like you aren't a man of your own principles - like you aren't reaching down to press a kiss to the swell of her lips like she undoubtedly deserves. To lick into her mouth and pull and kiss and bite until she's trembling, teeth caught in a delicate whimper. Or, that you aren't running your hands down her sides to find the backs of her knees and draw them upward, hooking your hips flush against hers.

She's all too breathless, watching you draw off her lips, fingers fast in your shirt, your hair - holding you close.

Then finally, a true, honest reflection of your heart. Nothing less than sheer and utter capitulation: "let me take you home."

Nana just nods before wrapping her arms around your neck and kissing you again.

It's definitely on you for expecting anything different, but Nana fucks like she talks.

Conceited. Brash. A little selfish.

The girl's sitting there on her kitchen counter with one leg hooked over your shoulder. She's stripped herself down to near nothing save for those fuck-off ridiculous panties: slick, shiny with a thick strip of satin between her lips, complete with white lace frills and all; the same ridiculous pattern as the thigh-high stockings clinging tight around the soft-gentle fat of her legs and the lace top of her garter. Her pussy - all tight and pink and soaked - has left this shimmering, shiny mess that's trailing down the insides of her thighs.

Your fingers are in the elastic of her panties, near bruising the curve in her waist where she's rocking, flushed and keening against your grip.

You tell her, "take these off."

"Off?" She repeats it back to you with the same little grin: playing dumb, the smart, charming ass she's been all night.

"I'd tell you what I really want to do to you," you start, pushing your fingers in a little harder, eliciting another pretty moan. "But I'm really, really sure you can fill in the blanks yourself.

"I hope you're not planning on being rough with me," she teases, running her hands all through your hair as she pulls herself against you - and of course, it's her audacity to insist, "no marks." She drops a chaste little kiss along the underside of your jaw. "At least, nothing that might show up on a camera."

Someone with a little less baggage might have done just that. Might have jerked her panties down a couple inches further - ripped the cloth, exposed her even more. You might have followed the waistline further along the perfect round of her ass, found those dips and dimples that, maybe, no one else has ever gotten to explore. You may have grasped at the ends of her hair and gotten your fingers in her pussy without ceremony - driven Nana to the very brink of her climax just before palming two greedy handfuls of that ass - shoving yourself right there between her lips and, lost to shame, put a fucking kid in her.

All the things she must be dying for you to do.

"Something the matter?" She pushes her mouth into yours for a kiss that has all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning. Your tongue against hers, languid and gentle at first; wet-sloppy, kissing and sucking on her bottom lip. You can feel her smirking when she says, "don't tell me you've forgotten how."

It's a lot, the effort you're putting in not to crumble - to crack at her taunts, snap your restraint, the temptation. You just wanna grab her pretty tits in both hands, shake her, and say: "shut the fuck up." But no - even in your wildest fantasy, you want to hear her first - beg you to make a wreck of her. So you force the words between your lips, dry and cracking:

"Not a fucking chance."

A laugh. "Guess I'm in good hands, then. Have to admit," Nana slides her hands down to hook under your own, bringing them lower. She grinds your fingers in slow circles over that one, aching, perfect little bud - a shock that has her curling tight inward until she's whining, clutching at her waist. "Not the - not the situation I had in mind."

Nana shifts her weight a bit more on one hip, guiding you through rubbing along the entrance to her slit - sloppy with precum, silky and aching - and when you place just the lightest pressure over all that hot skin, she opens her mouth:

"Ah."

Her eyes, her hair, her fucking mouth - you can’t look away - she’s so gorgeous it hurts.

Even the way she pants; the perfect furrow between her brows. And then, you dip a finger inside her, just to the first knuckle. It’s enough to make her whine, all shaky and high.

"Go on then, with how you’d pictured it," you press, already easing your digit in and out; slow, slick pumps that she is growing hotter, needier around. "I'm sure you've touched yourself to it more than a few times. The details and - stuff - must have been vivid."

"You haven't the slightest clue."

A brief kiss. You coax another shy sound from her, drawing a long sigh against her mouth -

"Try me, Nayeon."

"This is a lot closer to the truth than you’d think, professor." This time, no correction, she just smiles wide and tosses her head back, asking, sweetly, as if to absolve you of the responsibility. "Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it? You, me - us?"

Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt and starts to pull.

On that detail, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

"These... oh, how should I even call them." She hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

"You know," you start. And by this point, her cunt's that much tighter. You've managed two fingers now, but no further, and she's making these desperate, punched-out gasps. Her clit's a swollen pink nub, jutting out from its soft hood. "I really had you pegged all wrong."

"Not - not at all. You can fuck me just fine, trust me - ah. Please, you can fuck me anyway you want."

And here, you grab a little higher on her hips, pinching her on the outside of a thigh, and begin working your fingers fast. You've never cared much for teasing, not really, but something about the way she squirms in your grip, tries to lean up and grasp onto your shoulders with shaking hands, it gets you smiling. It gets you grinning, even, especially the way she makes these pretty noises: a long, desperate little, "ah," at each press and thrust, her breath going high and uneven.

"Listen, Nana -" She squeals out loud when you push your fingers just a little deeper, a little bit harder. "I'm not going to talk about what a slut you've been today or how badly I want to spread you wide open," you can already tell it's affecting her: the sudden change, the subtle hitch in her breathing, the tremor where her thighs press together. "Tell me about you, about your little ideas. Let me help."

"Wouldn't be fair." Her pussy's getting tighter, urgent with want. And still:

"C'mon now. Humor me a little. There was probably-" you say, sliding down that ridiculous pair of underwear along her ass, tugging them over the curves of her legs - so slow and easy, all while you're not bothering with easing off. Nana moans again; voice pitched. "Lots. Lots and lots of dirty things - and, I'm willing to bet my career that they made you a hot, mess - an awful, soaking fucking wreck. Who could've guessed? You, of all people, with just the right kind of teacher's-pet-appeal, hm?"

And you meant it to be a joke, just some ribbing. But the question has her immediately tensing, looking at you very intently, no trace of shame as she snaps back -

"Your mouth." She rocks forward. "Your fucking mouth."

You shouldn't keep touching her, you shouldn't keep staring, you shouldn't push her flat on her back and shove your face right into her cunt, you should pull away before this goes too far - it shouldn't be your fingers drawing out sopping-wet gasps out of her pussy, nor should you press your tongue to her cunt, your mouth to all that delicate flesh and, at your first taste, shiver.

Nana laughs: shaky, nervous. Then, your fingers sink back into her pussy alongside your tongue, your lips, the way even your hot breath against her aching pussy has her all stunned, breathless - and -

"Please."

- right before she breaks off into a beautiful sound that catches her hard in the chest.

(A sound like you’re all she could ever want in this life, maybe the next; it’s this wordless plea.)

"Hah, I had - ah, had so much - hah - dirt on you, used to masturbate thinking - ah," and there, she arches her spine, forcing a sigh out, "thinking about how you might punish me." She laughs - nearly choking. "How you might break down all your veneer of being a good, moral man and fuck me raw and rough and - ah - fuck. Oh god, fuck."

You twist your fingertips up just so, right against this perfect spot in her, and all the sudden the entire line of her body seizes - stiffens up, the muscles in her thighs twitch as you both moan through the moment, the spasms reverberating in your own ears, loud and unashamed, right against her wet, wet clit. Your fingers are fucking and fucking and fucking away in her cunt, harder and faster and sloppier, every word, every groan, every gasped breath only making it easier to forget. To give in. And with every heavy slap and squelch of your fingertips digging in as deep as her body allows - you're sending her that much closer.

You pull back long enough to bite out: "cum whenever you want, Nana.”

She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, is what she’s trying to say, bracing against how your tongue moves around her clit, and she knows, there’s no use fighting it.

A kiss against her swollen mound and she writhes. “There you go sweetheart, cum for me.”

Nana comes undone. Gradually at first, then vaulting over that edge all at once. She lifts and lowers her hips - pushing your fingers into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt; rocking up and up again. It's a torturously slow kind of grinding, and her feet find purchase on either side of you as her toes curl, one heel digging into your shoulder. An assurance; a promise; a lifeline; that she might tremble and shake through it, moaning.

“Fuck,” and, “god,” and, “you’re gonna make me-” slip past her lips alongside all the assured gasped-out cries for relief - the orgasm sweeping through her, tearing her apart.

Back pitching, shoulders narrowing, face twisting, cinching tighter and tighter -

Until she collapses.

Until it’s over.

As she lays there, chest heaving, arm draped carelessly across her forehead and half over a kitchen cutting board - her thighs splayed open, fucked and spent - she's so, so beautiful.

And it’s in that sort of fucked-up-noodly-state where she just slides right into your arms - those long, slender legs wrapping tight around your middle. "Here's the deal," you say, grabbing hold of her hips and steadying her, as best as either of you can.

"Hm." This lazy, sated look, the way her tongue's dragged out - slow and slick - across the top of her teeth and bottom of her lips. "Go ahead, sir. I'm listening."

The lip service - that coy little appeal to authority that maybe you’re actually plenty fond of - it makes you stop for the barest of moments. This girl, she's unreal. How hard could you ever be asked to resist her?

She lifts a brow. "Professor."

So you continue:

"I'm going to get out of these clothes, and we are going to see what happens after that - if you have a preference for the bed or the sofa, now's your chance to pipe up. Or else -"

"Or else-" She repeats, shifting her weight around again. You can feel how she adjusts her heels to hang higher up your ribs, rocking her weight against your abdomen, against your cock - and the instinctual twitch that runs through your spine is turgid and rough. Like a shot. If it had a smell, it'd probably remind you of gasoline.

And then, maybe just to rile you up even more: "the dining room table makes a good impression of a teacher's desk, no?"

You slide your hand along the backs of her thighs until you have a good, tight, high hold on them and pick her up, leaving the panties, the stockings, all of it down where they can gather dust or whatever - she giggles, and tightens her hold around you like she doesn't need to worry about falling.

"I'd rather fuck you into a mattress to be perfectly candid."

Nana throws back her head and laughs - this real, honest-to-goodness peal of laughter, a hint of playfulness where there was usually just a practiced ease. "Oh. So forward."

(In all likelihood, you're both going to hell, and on the off chance you meet down there, you figure you'll fuck her then, too.

You've read the myths, the Greek tragedies, the ones that have these gods descending from the heavens on human women, for pleasure and nothing but, you've read those stories and plenty more - the details don't matter: it's always a bad, bad end for everybody involved.)

She takes you upstairs. And the two of you fall through the doorway to her bedroom, stumbling all the way.

Her apartment is simple and clean in the way all young adults try to emulate, all white countertops, but with pictures hanging in little, neat rows on the walls and the space void of anything with some sort of character or history.

You know because you're fumbling toward a dresser or desk or bookshelf in an attempt to orient yourselves, bumping and tussling, half-blind, on your path forward and all of a sudden there's a goddamn framed photo in your hand - not of her family, thank god. Though just about every other person in the picture is familiar to you, you remember every single one - but all you're capable of focusing on is Nana, Nayeon: not quite the same. The same glint in her eyes, the way her smile has a timeless kind of quality, the faint dimples in her cheeks.

And some wicked part of you is all too willing to ignore the whole timeline of events that has led up to you, Nana, like this: you want to pull her hair. You want to shove her around like she doesn't matter - is in any way disposable or replaceable; the most selfish parts of you wishing you could keep her pinned down by her slender neck; pressing a palm, bruising, into her collarbone as you start to work at your belt buckle and slacks with your other hand.

It's hard, getting a grip on yourself as Nana, sliding onto her bed and rolling across the sheets, pulls her stockings down the length of her legs - only stopping herself long enough to meet your eyes. Her throat bobbing.

“Of course,” she says, because your cock is hanging out by that point, straining and a little pent-up. "I fucking knew you would have a perfect cock."

"Flattery or sincerity?"

"Um, let's say both." She shifts around the pillow - that sweet little pout on her lips. Her gaze dropping from your mouth and running all along the length of your torso, lower and lower. Like her hands. And when her eyes flick up to meet yours, just when you're stroking at your cock, base and shaft, teasing yourself, well past the point of pretense, a devious smile spreads wide across her pretty, beautiful face. The implication: you aren't leaving here until you're cumming inside her.

And with a glimmer in her eyes, the sheer audacity, her fingertips ghost the underside of your cock as she draws up toward the head, "you're going to ruin me with this thing. You know that right?"

"A bit dramatic."

Nana moves to rest with the tops of her knees at the edge, her chin resting against the insides of her wrists, elbows propped up - poised, playful, everything she should be as the both of you regard each other a moment longer. "Can you blame me? It's not just that it's huge, I mean - I've barely even gotten a hold of it, and yet... god," she snorts. Her eyelids are heavy, mouth curved, almost a snarl as she drags her bottom lip through the grip of her teeth and sinks down onto the mattress.

"Say something filthy again," and this is a test, this is Nana testing you to see what exactly you'll get away with.

(Hint: it's a whole lot.)

She sighs. The image of indigence, innocence, everything pure and good you couldn't hope for. "Should I suck it or not? Or maybe, I don't know. Would you prefer me to beg for it first, ask if you'll put it in? Like, I think if you ordered me to put it in my mouth, right now, I wouldn't be able to say no."

"Really," the most sarcastic answer.

"Really," she continues. "For instance. If you came over here right now and guided me up and onto your dick and told me, specifically, that you were going to face-fuck me? I couldn't say no. No sir."

You could have her any damn way. You could have her, and you both know it.

"So tempting," you tease, mostly in earnest, "maybe another time, when my self-control isn't quite so lacking."

Nana hums a low, flippant sort of noise - like: whenever you're ready - and just how much trouble it gets you in, the mere suggestion, is what she is banking on.

"Hey," is her invitation, "I won't beg yet. You still want me to put my mouth all over it," and to emphasize, she slips her fingers between the plump pillows of her lips, smiling at how that makes you reach over the nightstand, accidentally pulling open a drawer, possibly reaching for the first aid kit, "or would you rather watch me stuff all these fingers in my wet, little hole."

A sharp inhale: it really would be fun, probably, but you can't take it.

"Nana," this voice, gravelly-ragged and harsh, "if you're planning to make me snap, you are, without question, on the right track."

"Then before that happens," she says, pulling you down into the bedsheets beside her. Your body flush against hers, the beat of her heart loud against your own; this gorgeous, pristine girl, so nakedly giving - this is an honor and a curse all rolled up together, no doubt.

And after a hot, wet kiss: "fuck me like I always thought you would."

(She was made to be like this; it's the only explanation.

Made for wanting. Made for fucking. Made to be loved and made to have her cunt fucked full - ruined by your fingers, your tongue, your cock. This absolutely perfect body, and all the delicious parts of her; this thing of desire, bashful and coy and that deserves all the world and, having none of the grace or courtesy to actually beg, orders, like she always knew she could:

"Like, right fucking now."

Or else.)

Then you're there - her hot mouth, her cunt, your fingers digging in bruising-tight all along the curve of her thighs where they meet her ass, hips, thighs, waist. She's pumping her soft palm and delicate fingers, slick with her spit and yours around the length of you and this isn't going to last long; not that there's any doubt you're going to leave her sore. But still, you drag the head of your cock across the swollen lips of her pussy, down through the plump swell of her clit until it rests where the ridge just begins and every slide, every pressure along every inch of your cock, the thought of being enveloped entirely in all that silky warmth is nearly the end of you.

A whimper, "professor."

You wrap your hands tighter around the smooth, firm muscles in her thighs; dragging your fingers back and forth across the supple skin there - just firm enough to elicit a reaction from the tension in her legs, until you have her flipped over on her stomach. Because if you're going to fuck her properly, it's going to be with her face buried deep into a pillowcase and you perched above her, holding her down against the sheets.

You watch her get her elbows underneath her, laying almost flat. Watch her trace the shape of her own jaw, her nose, her neck - the smooth expanse of her chest - as you straddle her thighs. With her ass pointed right up at you and the heel of her ankle gently grinding into the underside of your leg, you groan, placing both hands just above her ass. And once you're gripping the whole shape of her, you push your cock into her, just an inch, listening to the shift in her breathing.

She shudders, "don't tease - oh, please, sir-"

"Is this what you expected, Nana?" You grab onto her hair. Then again, when she tries to get her hands on herself. Her shoulders are high, tight. You just don't give her a chance; pushing yourself another inch, a couple. The pace, so gradual she starts making these soft, little breathless sounds as you stretch her tight pussy open. A few moments when she stops trying to bury her noises, her gasps - stops trying to angle her hips or squeeze or resist the thick shape of your cock where it is so, so hot and full inside of her - and there you stop. "What is it you had in mind, hm?"

"Ngh - oh."

Her cunt's clamping tight around just the first few inches of you. The tightness, the wet heat is staggering; how it pulls and begs with the words she seems reluctant to spill out.

So - you lift a hand, bringing it back down again onto the pale, rounded flesh of her ass with a smack, a gasp, and this wet sound from the sopping heat of her pussy, all aching and sobbing, "don't, fuck, stick it - fuck, put it - just. Just fucking get on top of me and pin me down - make it hard for me to breathe - do it, just. Like I, fuck, like I always wanted, sir, please-"

And you sink all the way in.

"Fuck." She bites into those consonants, a whole-body motion that pulls at the tension in her spine, the muscles in her legs. But her hips angle right up, and she presses her ass into the hollow of your abdomen and says, "thank you. Thank you. God."

"Don't get lazy on me," you say, grinding the tip of your cock in little circles; pulling it out and angling it down until it's prodding at all the right places to make her arch and shiver.

"Please," she says again, louder this time, almost a moan. "That. Fuck. Yes. It's."

"Yes, yes, I know. Nana, you-"

"Just use me. Whatever you like," she pants; then, once you've pulled yourself out to the tip, slowly filling her again, "use me like a fucktoy, alright. Because - fuck," Nana shivers, pushing her hips into yours. Her shoulders lower, as if by degrees, "please. Use me. Make it rough. Please, professor - use me however you want, I don't care - anything's fine with me - use me, as long and as much as you need, I. Please."

The real difference here, beyond anything else, is that this is no longer the game it was; the very instant she was sprawled across the mattress with a line of drool dripping into the sheets, all her bright, polished glory has vanished, leaving this bare edge of her exposed - the girl who lives solely to be fucked and used by your cock, her cunt leaking, begging for more. Reduced to the basics and nothing else.

"Your fucking cunt, Nana, the goddamn clench - you feel - it's-" (So fucking good, is what you can’t quite say, because she’s tight and wet and her tiny pussy is quivering like mad every time you bathe your cock in its scorching heat. Over and over.) It’s hard to think; you’re truly - truly - fucking her, but you can’t ignore the tautness in her spine either, bent below you. There are probably tears beading down her cheeks, but there's no helping the raw instinct screaming through the core of her being, pleading with you to pull yourself free, before sinking hilt-deep into her again, again, again - to a chorus of sloppy, loud, nasty, fucking whimpers and moans.

Like music.

It's easy after all, how her pussy gives way to you. How she molds around you - sleeves onto you like a glove - like there was only one cunt in the world you should ever be fucking up and fucking apart.

"It's incredible. Fuck. Just that perfect."

Nana, as best as she can, trying to stay steady, braced against her hands and knees, is raising her hips.

But it's clear with the way she's slipping all over, slicking the sweat off her palms and rocking her ass back into your thrusts, a cry falling out of her, unbidden, when she speaks and not.

"Please," she pants, through tears probably, this breathy-shivering. A renewed enthusiasm for your grip on her - where, in another place, you'd worry about leaving marks behind - for the feeling of your weight slamming down into her, driving the air from her lungs.

The sheets are a crumpled mess, pillows knocked from the mattress, where the two of you are shaking it apart.

You're pulling her apart, slowly, thrust by thrust into her sopping cunt, and in a promise of how you'll put her back together, you get your mouth on her shoulders, her neck, kisses in her hair, behind her ear - Nana just whimpers, curling her toes and ankles along the backs of your knees, her face against the pillow and gasping, "thank you - thank - thank-"

And when your palm smacks against the generous swell of her ass, again, she keens so perfectly for you.

It's a breathtaking sight, so good, so perfect: her flawless ass pitched high, round and flushed pink. The flutter of her eyelashes and the tears and drool. The outlines of her pale white cheeks sent into ripple after ripple, and then the way you can slide one hand forward between her shoulder blades and slip it into her hair, nails raking her scalp, grabbing a handful of hair in your fist and tilting her face - to the side, enough for her cheek against the pillow and the way her hips try to press against yours; try to chase the pleasure; this brash, gorgeous, slim-waisted, well-curved, exquisite young woman - like everything.

"Please," is all she says as you fit your chest up tight to her back and mouth at her neck - lick all along the sweat. "Please."

You can't take it anymore, can't keep watching this masterpiece, can't stand the molten heat wrapped around your cock every time the drag in and out of her pussy pulls sets every nerve on fire. Right in her ear: "I'm cumming, Nana, I'm cumming inside this tight, little pussy."

A short gasp, "yeah."

"Yeah. Inside, Nana. Cum inside, you -" You twist your fingers against her scalp and find purchase, an excuse - a means to yank her head around and lean into her, teeth against skin, that familiar coiling in your gut and the burning sensation that flows right alongside every slap and smack of her hips on your skin.

"Fuck me." You watch her bite down, swallow a sound, try to say: "fuck your load so deep inside me it’ll be all I think about for weeks, let me feel it, all that hot, all that sticky, fucking cum"

And you drag your hips, these final, punishing drags through her drenched cunt. Her fingers are white knuckled and fisting the sheets, until the very second you've pressed every ounce of your own body's worth into her own, when you're collapsing her spine and pushing her face into the bedspread, this wave rushes through your ears like the buzz and hum of insects and waves and things out of sync - the high, the peak -

And then:

Sobering, subjugating silence.

In fact, you're shuddering; You're cumming, spilling pools of thick cum deep inside of her. It's all in that warm, filthy sensation, a heady, hazy, desperate thrill when her own cunt seizes in its climax around you, trembling, throbbing, quivering, clenching; drawing everything out and taking your cock deeper - even while the whole of her is thrashing and bucking, all of this messy with her pleasure and her voice caught up, writhing and breathless.

"God-" is the last thing out of her mouth before you can kiss it quiet, tug on her lower lip and open her up like a present - messy and breathy, crying out, you're making this mess inside, this beautiful fucking mess - as the whisper you feel against your lips:

"Inside me, like that."

As you groan, deep and hot, "filthy fucking cumslut-"

Right on the verge, riding out every twitch of your cock and each flex of your hands at the skin around her ass, her waist, back and shoulder blades; even after you've caught your breath, you keep pumping more and more inside of her, you don't stop, won't, and even when you manage it, pulling out the head of your cock - you can feel every slick detail - just the slit and rim, resting the throbbing head of your cock at her swollen little mound, feeling the length of her fucked-out pussy spasm at the emptiness and trying to grasp around nothing - empty, tight and aching, sopping.

There's her hips, just this, right there; the line, the silhouette. Her thin waist and the curvy swell of her ass, jutting out straight - the cream-colored flesh dusted pink. The lithe, soft line of her stomach and the insides of her thighs a little farther along, sweaty and inviting.

She's so pliant in your grip, even though she's trying her best to curl herself backward - to angle your spent cock back into the ready, welcoming warmth of her slick, wet pussy - and once the afterglow has begun to wear away, that same greed and yearning takes its rightful place. A glimmer in her eyes. The unmistakable need and drive.

"One more," she says, wiggling her hips back into your stomach. "For me."

(The truth: you can't refuse her, not as she bites her lip and twists, all that soft hair splayed across her face, stuck to her tear-damp skin.

One more, because you both still want it. One more, because in the dim glow and evening air of her bedroom, everything that happens now matters just as much as anything that happened before.

One more, because you need her again.)

When she wakes in the dark, you figure her bed will be empty.

Nana will realize that you're gone. Of course you’ll be - it was never going to go differently; the sex had to end at some point. After all, if you stayed, eventually she'd start saying something you'd find a fault in or your skin would be so sensitive she couldn't stand not running a finger up your spine and maybe kissing your hip.

The reasons to go always outnumbered the reasons to stay.

The world would catch up and someone would find out and that's the sort of gossip that might leave both of your careers in shambles. Or else, you'd do something you couldn't come back from, the moment the heat of the sex left your body and her cunt, god, her perfect little cunt was spent - slackening - and the moments-after-haze, her legs locked up and her arms a bit sore, would clear up. Then you'd look at her, or else the shame would win out - the guilt and you'd call it quits. She won’t blame you. She can't.

But then again,

Her heart won't fall completely to pieces, because:

You've stayed. And it isn't an easy position, even if she is easy.

Here she is, though: sleeping on her side with her wrists crossed in front of her face - peaceful and quiet, probably tired enough to sleep without dreams. The dark has long since settled across her bedroom, save the pinpricks of stars in the sky out her window and a sliver of moonlight. You can see her, or you could reach out and run your hands all along her calves and thighs, but you don't.

Nana's shoulders slump forward in the faintest of sighs, and there it is - the slow, gentle swell and fall of her chest.

Here's how you got here:

In this scandal-in-waiting of a relationship. Here's the stupidest possible path, where a bright-eyed student with a crush fucks her older professor just once, and somehow you both find yourselves coming back for more, like maybe your very, very bodies belong together - a maddening compulsion.

Even once you've managed to work through the idea of your cum all inside of her, a seedy, twisted corner of your mind murmurs how it makes the most sense. To stick your cock inside of her again.

Where she can show you the way it can look; the mess and the texture of the slick, white spill - dribbling out of her pussy in the afterglow, onto her palm, and down the crevice in her ass and lower.

It's the phone calls probably - and not just the phone sex - late-night talking, conversation and every once in awhile, the kind of hot, hard fucking that gets you in trouble, but also a reason to be with each other again. Not just the quick fucks but the nice ones - the days, the late nights and mornings and what have you: all the casual intimacy of it. All the sweet nothings exchanged.

The after-sex cuddling, with her straddling your lap;

The sensation of her thighs sliding into place around the tops of your legs, her arms tucked around your neck;

The kisses you don't take and kisses you'd be okay with, all the promises made to love you as many times as necessary, however necessary, wherever.

That's all here too.

Again:

She is young. But, who the fuck are you to say? Who the hell can tell you she doesn't deserve the least rotten, least painful, most promising love she can find in this particularly fucked-up world?

Who else is going to keep the both of you safe and hidden?

And who else, despite everything, seems to like having a secret that they're sure only you know; every glance or accidental touch with her eyes brimming, alive, and the whole of her bent like a bow-string - all held back and wound-up tight.

To the point her spine will shiver and shake; you know how it can be.

"Are you actually going to buy those?" Nana asks one day, dangling on her toes, chin rested comfortably in the sweep of your shoulder.

When she crowds the swell of her hip and her breasts and her entire body into your back and snakes her arms around your shoulders, you think there's nothing else in the world you need.

"You called them drivel," she adds, almost pouting - which is a look you're slowly trying to inoculate yourself against because the moment it comes up, you have a knee-jerk reaction to drop anything and everything and carry her off someplace else. To have a place where she could, could, could -

"Hah," you roll your eyes, not taking the bait. There's a shelf-full of campy, smutty romance novels in the dollar bin. "It is. The story was less than complicated, but I couldn't figure out what the hell two or three characters' plotlines had to do with one another, and sometimes you just want a little guilty pleasure, you know?"

"Ooh. So," Nana smiles, the devious sort. "I guess there is some honesty in you after all."

"Come on, this one at least has an original story," and it is a shameless attempt, "plus-"

"I know, I know. Fine. And if it is so terribly bad, well, I suppose I can use your chest as a pillow to take a nap," she says, before throwing this particular glance over her shoulder.

The cashier doesn't need to ask if the two of you want your copies of 'Wild West of the Heart' or whatever-the-fuck this one is titled, scanned separately.

All of that, those paperback-cover love stories and TV drama plots, these are the sorts of things you do just for Nana; as the two of you wait in long lines, get carried along, get bumped and pushed, like every other ordinary-person thing you've done for her ever since.

("Honestly, this isn't my kind of thing either," you tell her in the aisle of a grocery store once. The fluorescent lighting only accentuates the blush high on her cheeks. "don't make me fuss over something like this."

"Have a little sympathy," she insists, nudging the handle of the shopping cart against the inside of your shins. "A girl like me isn't good for much else.")

It's not romance, really, that's such a fucked up way to go about describing any of it, but then there's Nana, bouncing on her heels and prattling on, this girl in the spring of her life who is full to the brim and bursting with the most chaotic and eclectic sorts of thoughts and passions -

So, what.

"Really," she adds - another side, another angle on an issue the two of you had an hour ago while cooking breakfast. "Just, think about it. Would you honestly put all this effort into somebody who doesn't make you laugh at least as much as they irritate you? Because like, you would never tolerate some self-obsessed jerk long enough to eat their burnt, terrible pancakes every day of the week."

"Fine. Maybe." You sit across the table. "You're right."

Nana blinks and this look of wonder crosses her face as she grins. A moment of triumph for her and that was more than the honest truth. It's still strange, admitting defeat in any argument here or there, or that the two of you make an actual decent couple - together. The kinds of things that come naturally to other people.

"Any more caveats to all of this, professor?"

"You’re gonna end up bent over that counter again if you keep pushing it, kid."

The both of you break out laughing and then you finish your coffee, or she stabs the last few pieces of cantaloupe on her plate, or you kiss her neck, and just -

Everything.

#wooah smut #nana smut #kwon nayeon smut #el7z up smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember #woo ah smut #woo ah nana smut

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pollyperks · 2 years ago

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so luz went from the girl at school failing her classes with no friends, completely misunderstood by her teachers, other kids, her mom even, to the girl with friends for life (and an awesome girlfriend) who has half the people on the boiling isles show up for her quinceañera because turns out she's a hero and she's found the place she belongs and is understood and completely loved for who she is

willow went from miserable, bullied girl who didn't believe she could do anything right and tried to make herself so small to a natural team leader and complete girlboss (with a cute boyfriend) who just...oozes confidence in everything that she is, there is no way you can look at her and believe people once dared to call her half-a-witch and if anyone did now she could take them to the cleaners except she couldn't care less and the rest of the hexsquad would do it for her anyway

gus went from the kid who didn't think he could do anything right to a confident teacher who gets to show students his passion for the human realm (and he can pop in and out all the time which is the dream!) and being a prodigy is really a gift now, not something that sets him apart and makes him a target but instead an awesome teacher who can empathize with students having a hard time and is just plain cool on top of all that as he teaches them not to eat paperclips

amity went from one dimensional mean girl actually desperately trying to earn her parents' approval to wild, adventure seeking author who made up for who she was, cut ties with her emotionally abusive mother and terrible friends, has a close relationship with her dad now plus the best friends ever (byeeee boscha), and also has an awesome girlfriend as she travels all over the isles doing exactly what she wants with no one controlling her

and wow okay hunter went from the golden guard who obeyed belos' every order out of the insane desire to be needed and special without realizing if he messed up belos was literally growing his replacement because he was always just a copy of someone belos both hated but couldn't let go of haha that's dark to being just hunter who has guardians he doesn't have to flinch away from and tons of friends and he gets to carve palismen just how he wanted and his girlfriend could definitely bench press him and he'll always remember the first friend who ever found him (chose him!!) and saved his life in so many ways THE HEXSQUAD IS SO GOOD I JUST!!!!!!!

#ahhhhhhhhhhhhh #the owl house #toh spoilers #i'm going to miss them so much

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perpetualcontrolleddrowning · 9 months ago

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The point is that they don't fall into the trap of an oppressive society

Svsss power dynamics are absolutely wild, and I've seen another post mention that already, about how every time you think you're seeing a fucked up dynamic, it's actually three layers deeper and flipped and more imbalanced than you could ever imagine

But the point! Is that they live in an environment that is Always giving each character some power over the other person in the relationship! And none of them ever use it

The novel is critiquing these power trip fantasies and the exploitation often seen as inherent in porn and BL and wish fulfillment stories

Sqq was lbh's teacher. There is often abuse inherent in the teacher/student dynamic. Sqq never even considers lbh as a romantic option until they have been apart for years and there is no age gap

Lbh has a tracking device on sqq and the ability to seize control of sqq's body at any time. He never uses this and only wields his blood parasites to heal

Mbj is sqh's boss who regularly heaps too much work onto him and would physically attack him. Mbj's role as boss is never utilized to coerce or manipulate sqh into a romantic relationship. Mbj was engaging in demonic bonding activities that were acceptable within his culture and stopped the Moment he realized that it was not received that way

Sqh invented the world and created his dream man who he is now romancing. He could be considered a god. It could be wish fulfillment. He uses his knowledge to protect mbj's kingdom and mbj himself and takes up a servants role

There are a thousand other tropes in this book like this. You hear student/teacher, god/creation, body control, fuck-or-die, demon lord/prisoner, age difference, corpse in bed, boss/employee, King/servant. You think you know what kind of book this will be, what kind of abuse and power differences there will be

But the point is that they all just love each other instead! The world is Constantly giving them the opportunity to abuse each other, manipulate, take power over another person. And the point is that they all choose to ignore those customs. The teacher just wants to relax and live a simple life. The god wants to serve. The king learns to serve. The demon lord wants nothing more than to leave it all behind and become a housewife

And it works! They get their happy ending! They fix the world by refusing the opportunities to exploit and abuse others

It's beautiful! And it also makes it absolutely impossible to recommend this novel to anyone!

#svsss #moshang #bingqiu #lbh #sqq #sqh #mbj

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months ago

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What do you think Divus was like during his student years in NRC?

Personally I think he was a mixture of Ace, Cater, and Vil. A mischievous troublemaker who was also trendy and sociable with a good fashion sense. Since he is the potion and science teacher, I think he was in Pomefiore.

Also I don’t know if this is true or not, but I heard somewhere that Divus mentioned that he was always followed by two lackeys, who I have no doubt are the twisted versions of Jasper and Horace.

We actually already know some things about Crewel's student days from canon (mainly taken from his Unified Exams voice lines and/or from Happy Beans Day):

Trein was a teacher at NRC when Crewel was a student. They didn’t get along (Crewel was not enthusiastic to see Trein still teaching at NRC), but Trein is credited with teaching Crewel to respect his elders. They continue to bicker, usually passive aggressively and cheekily from Crewel’s end.

Trein says that Beansfest got out of hand during the time Crewel was studying there, which led to there being stricter rules imposed for the current iteration of Beansfest. (It is not known if Crewel himself contributed to that aforementioned chaotic run.)

There was an incident when student!Crewel accidentally overturned a pot of mandrakes. Their screams shattered all the glass in the Alchemy workshop.

Trein says that Crewel used to get into many fights.

Crewel tells us what he wasn’t as rowdy as the kids are nowadays.

He’s still in contact with two of his “henchmen” (ie his juniors) that he met back in school. Crewel says they aren’t clever, but that he can be himself around them; he also trusts them to dogsit for him. These two men are most likely twisted versions of Cruella’s hired help, Jasper and Horace.

From what we know of the canon, here are some conclusions I've personally drawn:

Knowing Trein and Crewel's current relationship (they disagree on trivial things like whether cats or dogs are better; it gets Trein riled up), I assume that they've never really gotten along. Perhaps Crewel was a constant sore spot for Trein or was frequently reprimanded for his behavior in spite of having excellent grades.

Crewel has a voice line in which he advises the player to not wholly devote their efforts to studying and keeping their head down, or else they will become inflexible as adults. He also advises them to “go wild once in a while”, but not so wild that professors will scold you. This makes me think that Crewel had a similar attitude when he was a student himself. That is to say, he was a good student, but also had his rebellious streaks and moments of acting out. Maybe he went too far sometimes, which is why he now informs the player to not cause trouble for their teachers in the pursuit of seeking thrills or a break from their studies.

As the sender has mentioned, Crewel has good fashion sense and currently teaches science courses, meaning he must be proficient in the area. These traits make him a suitable ex-Pomefiore student, as that dorm tends to have students that enjoy aesthetics and excel in potion-making. (This is also the popular headcanon within the fandom.

Crewel has what I would call “refined” tastes and interests, such as sports cars. I feel like he also had this discerning eye for quality and trends as a student.

Crewel is strong-headed and asserts himself well. He walks into a room and just commands it. Because of this, I see him easily being kind of a “leader of the pack” kind of guy—a cool, charismatic person that others can’t help but follow or admire, even if they hate his guts or find him pretentious. I don’t know if I would call him friendly (like, I don’t see him as outgoing), but rather he’s just got a magnetic presence that attracts people to him and definitely knew how to navigate a complex social web.

He gives me the impression that lots of his classmates looked up to him or called him “aniki” (as a sign of respect) 😂 (Twisted Jasper and Horace definitely do this www)

Sometimes I feel like Crewel’s leadership capabilities weren’t used for the… best purposes? Like I’m sure he had his spats of immaturity and led his boys to pull off some stupid pranks or fights or whatever. Maybe they put Lucius in a tree so they can all get out of an exam while Trein is looking for his familiar?? But then they all get an earful about it later… That’s just one example off the top of my head!

The student!Crewel I picture is a lot like Vil in many ways, but stands on his own due to his wild side. Someone who is cool, confident, fashionable… with his own set of rules and a slight edge to him that isn’t very Vil-like.

I hope that sufficiently explained my thoughts ^^

#twisted wonderland #twst #Divus Crewel #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Cruella de Vil #Horace #Jasper #notes from the writing raven #question #Mozus Trein #twst resource #twisted wonderland resource #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Vil Schoenheit #Lucius

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ts19009 · 8 months ago

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Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 3

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: September 22nd, 2024)

OT13

seventeen as teachers @fairyhaos

seventeen as dads headcanons @bbyobbyo

Back to School with Seventeen (Seventeen TA Collab! Take a look at our Course Options collated by your favourite writers, taught by your favourite members!) @camandemstudios

Seventeen's reaction to you asking them for a baby @j0shuasw1fey

Tales from Camp Masterlist (Thirteen friends reconnect on a camping trip, reminiscing about their times as camp counselors when they were in college.) @kwanisms

✤ Losing It. (masterpost) ✤ (A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time. ) @ncteez

Kim Mingyu

kmg x reader: healing comes in small doses masterlist (husband! dad! kim mingyu x afab! mom!reader) @tomodachiii

Food Wars pt. 1 (You and Mingyu are rival but friendly chefs competing for a spot to be an executive chef at a new location in Madrid. This position would change your life; no matter how attractive he is, you WILL get that spot) @beomcoups

Crossing the Finish Line (Winning is the only thing that matters, except if you're raising money for a charity event with an infuriatingly good-looking swimmer.) @mr-cha-n

Statistically Speaking... (TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise) @gyuswhore

Always // oneshot (Sometimes, one man's burden is everything another man has ever wished for.) @spamgyu

When I Kissed the Teacher (science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee) @highvern

Read All About It (Anonymous Life and Sex writer, Not Carrie Bradshaw, takes on a 30-day challenge with her boyfriend, Min. How wild fans would go to find out they're none other than Kim Mingyu and his girlfriend?) @highvern

Hot Wheels [M] (Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+) @milfgyu

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni) @wonustars

There's a snake in my pants (Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu]) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Cross My Heart (Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.) @minisugakoobies

Like A Cowboy Part 2 of 4 (Mingyu only needs to wake up with you once to decide he'll do whatever is necessary to do it every day; even if it means letting you help him outside and figuring out how to help you inside, it's worth it.) @sluttywoozi

Let our lips lock, baby (Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

I can do it for you (After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch.) @hoshifighting

here and now. (secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship) @writingmeraki

Jeon Wonwoo

into the night | jeon wonwoo (when you call wonwoo late at night telling him you're stranded, he drops everything to make his way to you (and bring you home safe)) @etherealyoungk

CLOSER (f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwo) @hannieehaee

HER | part six (m). (wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.) @chocosvt (HOLY SHIT, THIS SERIES HAD ME CRYING. SNAPS TO THIS AMAZING WRITER!)

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 (though it didn’t bother wonwoo that his girl wasn’t a gamer like him, he was over the moon when one day she proudly declared she started gaming. one thing he forgot to ask - what kind of games she was playing.) @babyleostuff

knight in shining armor (non-idol! wonwoo x f!reader) @heartsfromia

endpoint (Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.) @highvern

heads up! stardew. they r gaming. @nonranghaes

Cookies and Cream (academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)) @seokgyuu

April Shower (Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.) @sluttywoozi

HEAVEN (wonwoo has a reputation for being distant, quiet and a bit mysterious. once you get to know him better, though, you come to find the sweet, shy boy underneath the surface.) @sanakiras

Patterns (Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?) @highvern

Daylight (between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.) @moonscriptsx

✦ sugar & spice (bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader) @etherealyoungk

Hong Jisoo

New in the Suburbs – New Neighboor! Joshua @hoshifighting

distracted (husband&dad!joshua, wife&mom!reader, established relationship) @eomayas

SUMMER KISSES (joshua coming home is a pleasant surprise) @arafilez

richhusband!joshua headcannons (just some headcons, but i'm obsessed with them) @number1mingyustan

still the one (5 years after your break up, Joshua tries his best to get your attention. May it be creating a new instagram to get you to notice him, making your brother (Seungkwan) secretly invite him to his birthday party, and his latest act: begging you on his knees in front of your door to get him back. He just never gives up!) @bratzkoo

city lights series | joshua hong (M) [ongoing] (rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits) @hannieween

best friend’s brother (This had me crying ugly tears. its my fav) (imestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.) @chocosvt

not according to plan | hjs (fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut) @the-boy-meets-evil

Expiration Date (2/2) (artist!joshua x model!fem!reader) @number1mingyustan

Birds of a Feather ( joshua hong x f reader) @onlymingyus

Timestamp! Aquamarine Au! @mysafehaneul

on second thought (where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?) @the-boy-meets-evil

Yoon Jeonghan

BITE (idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, afab reader, small age gap implied, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is mentioned to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.) @hannieehaee

building blocks | yjh (agreeing to be the teaching assistant is the last thing you want in a semester where you're already swamped with work. but, you need a letter of recommendation from the professor and you're out of other options. enter jeonghan, the menace who signs up for the class seemingly on a whim and disrupts your entire routine.) @the-boy-meets-evil (OBSESSED WITH THESE TA SERIES)

"lovie" (all the ways jeonghan uses your nickname) @cherryredcheol

Titty-Shirt! (18+) (pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader) @beefboyandbabygirl

love café (while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not) @chocosvt

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan (how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages) @p0ckykiss

Xu Minghao

Meet Me In Amsterdam (Artist!Minghao x Artist!Fem!Reader) @okiedokrie

GOODNIGHT N GO (idol!minghao x hybeidol!reader) @hannieehaee

To all the love letters I wrote but never sent (fluff, best friends to lovers) @welcometomyoasis

Birthday Gift l Xu Minghao (It's your birthday and Minghao wants to give you your present!) @jenoslutie

Lee Seokmin

through a different lens — l.sm (meet cute, strangers to something) @miniseokminnies

after dessert (just pure smut lol, but it was good XD) @xurengu0

behind the stands (Seokmin, Gryffindor's star chaser, is widely known as your rival. What everyone doesn't know is that before every game, his lips are always on yours.) @xurengu0

Beautiful Liar (mafia au, dark romance? angst, smut.) @starlightx

Epistolary Yearning (epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut) @himbocoups

Nice Guys Finish First (After a first date with the sweetest man you've ever met, thanks to a mutual friend, you're more than willing to silence his doubts and show him how sexy he was to you.) @celestiababie

midnight rain | lsm (after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way.) @wongyuuu

#joshua hong smut #joshua x y/n #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo #wonwoo smut

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sevs-corner · 5 days ago

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Tf 141! As classic highschool jock tropes

(Im brainrotting agane so lets get this outta the way)

Tw: nsfw themes/ implications 18+ !!

So the 4 are the popular kids for sure

However wacky they may be, or how god awful their reputation is— the people love em, and are very VERY downbad for ‘em

Price, as the captain of the rugby team, is the cocky type

Overconfident, knows how to sell himself, the typical rich kid that would hold parties after every game win

And they always win

Price is the Troy Bolton equivalent, with all the talents but none of the motivation to use ‘em or explore the arts

He is committed to the game, and the only time where you can find him dead serious and hyper focused

Though in relationships? He’s far from that

Body count? Don’t even try and think about it, its not like he keeps score either

But he does score them based on how good they are (he is BI and will fuck anyone)

The fact that he hasn’t fucked you would be quite rare

Protection king actually, because he will NOT take responsibility for what happens after the deed

But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t raw dog you if you wanted to :)

Ghost, is still as enigmatic as ever and the most brooding out of the four

But that doesn’t mean he won’t kick your ass

To be honest, he wouldn’t hold back at ALL (especially if you insulted his rock music or his fashion sense)

He does play in the same team as Price, and is actually his second in command

He’s super quick on his feet because he does boxing at the side

(How else would he expel all of his angsty teenage energy?)

That’s why he’s always sluggish and the type to sleep in class (but still get straight As ‘cause he’s just a natural smart ass like that)

Teachers are afraid of this man and is also scared of the backing that he has because of his parents and his association with Price and his own parents too (they fund the school board)

In terms of hooking up other people…

He doesn’t do it often but when he does-

Well, let’s just say that people go to him if they feel a little…experimental

Aftercare? The bare minimum ‘cause he knows its intense

Will he do it often and go out of his way to do it? No (but maybe he would for you)

Gaz, is the the “nice” guy out of the four

He’s the type to always get straight As, participate in all the projects, join community projects, be student council president—

Yes, he wants absolute control under his finger tips

People really don’t know if they’re being tugged on strings with him at the helm, doing every bit of his bidding without even him lifting a single finger

While he sits there, looking all pretty

He does play sports but is quite average

But you already know that he’s the one lifting his shirt for the nice lowkey, candid abs pic

Always a performer in the field, which sometimes pisses off Price and Ghost (they’re very competitive when they get into the zone) but really does decently enough that he gets scouted too

Although, he prefers that he handles more of the internal working of school

Slowly ensuring that the four of them have absolute control of the school— all for their amusement of course

His hook-up culture is a bit…skewed

A sadist in the sheets and a masochist in the closet

An absolute wild animal if you managed to hook up with him

But if he hooks up with any of the three other guys?

Well, let’s (also) just say that Ghost has to get his practice in somehow, right? Or when he’s frustrated and need to take it out in a…more sensual way

He is as willing as the day he joined them

Soap, is the wildest party animal out of the four

And because of that, he’s the go-to guy for supplies in alcohol and drugs

Even has connections in getting places for parties (like abandoned parks, houses, a lake side getaway- whatever you wanted he’ll get it)

But for a pretty penny, of course

He is the stash keeper in terms of money and all of the above

He’s also the hustler, working hand-in-hand with Ghost whenever they need to deal with someone

Unruly doesn’t quite match the energy he gives off everyday

Messing and pranking with the teachers aren’t even enough for him

Vandalizing is too common and just wreaking havoc is the name of his game

He does play on the team with the rest but often gets fouls or does foul play that he gets red carded out immediately anyways

Does he care for any type of attraction with hook-ups? Nope

He just fucks ‘em and leaves, responsibilities be damned

You chose to be with him anyways, right? Its not like forced you to the lone room upstairs or anything

Its not him who removed his clothes in front him— it was all your own will and he simply just jumped at the opportunity and your wide open arms

You, on the other hand, just transferred to this school

Unknowing of its inner workings

You find yourself at this school because of a troubled family life

With such a failure in their lives, they decide to dump you here by your lonesome

And now you have to figure out how to live in and outside of this school

Lemme know if you want more crumbs of this hehe <3

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blackcathjp · 9 months ago

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drarry fic recs loosely based on my post: fics where harry has a praise kink / draco's dirty talk makes harry's brain fuzzy and needy.

i especially love fics where draco calls him "sweetheart" or "darling", so cute and hot when he says it so naturally, feels so intimate and loving.

mostly pwps and dmhp fics.

***

the way you say my name by innerlilith (5k)

the inspiration for this post... the reason why my brain chemistry transformed, the reason for my obsession with sweet pet names. their relationship develops in such a real way, the banter is so drarry. you can feel the sexual (and romanticl!) tension build and build until it breaks and the climax is SO satisfying. also really love draco's "unhinged flirt" characterization. harry getting so hot under the collar is just *chef's kiss*.

far from the tree by aideomai (112k)

reason #2 for this post. it's THE fic. need i say more? you just have to read it. draco can't believe harry would want him, yet he's posessive and can't let him go. harry's obsessed and will do anything to protect him. throw in some angst, mystery, kinky times, next gen kids, draco calling harry "darling" (and subsequently changing the trajectory of my life), and voila! a masterpiece.

dinner and diatribes by hephaestiions (5k)

legilimency sex is SO UNDERRATED. another fic that altered my brain chemistry and lives in my mind rent-free. established loving relationship, with draco knowing how to help and ruin harry. be his peace of mind and make him crackle with sexual need and wild magic. it's a truly delicious fic that is filthy, intimate, and comforting. "to forever and a day" is such a devastating declaration of love.

back where we began by cassiara (25k)

oh. my. god. the way it's slightly teacher/student dynamics but not really, combined with accidental bonding and sorta legilimency because harry is impulsive and curious and obsessed with draco's voice in his head. like??!

stamina spells pleasure by lettered (10k)

bonkers multiple orgasms fic with dom draco and magical spells for sexy times! when i say harry deserves to be RAILED and reduced into a needy little mess, i mean this!

knot your average coworker by @thecouchsofa (22k)

werewolf draco and oblivious harry! subtle praise kink, great feisty banter. sweet and hot fic about harry's desire to care for draco, and draco being baffled by that. also, harry's obsessed with his knot 😏 that is all.

bonus fics (not so much about praise kink):

the earth from a distance by spqr / @andthepeople (15k)

genius and competent draco and action-oriented, need-to-be-useful harry! masterful world-building about 16th century hogwarts, lovely speculative twist on life in the past. survival-based co-dependent relationship turned into intimate & loving romance.

paragraph twelve, clause four by innerlilith (15k)

innerlilith knows how to write lust and tension with longing and gentleness. this is all about quidditch player harry and his sexy bodyguard draco, with a silly premise of hearing your love/hate crush wank loudly next door. the scene where draco begs to see more and how his words make harry turn into a puddle... the push and pull, the burning need, you just have to be there, the build up is so worth it.

#this makes me realize i have more fics to read and more bookmarks to make #i am a dmhp consumer... i need to expand but... dmhp is just so good #wanted to find fics that arent d/s but gotta dig.. welp next time!#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #bottom harry potter #top draco malfoy #dmhp #drarry fic rec #drarry fics #mature

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drarryspecificrecs · 2 months ago

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2024.09 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Take Me to Voldemort by @sweetiecutiedarling [M, 702k]

How did everyone miss it? That dark look in Potter's eyes? They were all too happy to gloss over his insistence that the Dark Lord had returned, acting as if the wild claims were endearing and not signs of a manic break. [...] Draco never could have predicted Potter's particularly daft and entirely sincere response, especially considering that Potter did not even take a breath before saying it. "Let's do it. Take me to Voldemort."

2. Twin flames by Wizarding_Whatif [M, 561k]

After the war has ended, Harry finds himself at a loss for what to do with himself. [...] Draco Malfoy is also asking the big questions in life after the war. [...] They both get invited back after a year of rebuilding to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. [...] This year, however, the returning students are to be resorted, Harry is but Draco is not. This year an entirely different adventure awaits the two men. With an ancient love spell cast on Harry before School the unknown consequences grow steeper as the year goes on, leaving the entire wizarding world on the edge of their brooms for news of their savior. Can a villain become a hero? Will the hero get a happy ending?

3. The Wrong Sort by ladybirdlad [?, 135k] *typo

After Dolores Umbridge becomes Hogwarts’ new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Harry decides something must be done about her and her appalling tutelage and misinformation. Surprisingly, the hatred of their new simpering pink professor spreads further than just Harry and his friends. Far enough that even those who he once considered enemies are now tentative allies. But how much is unity against Umbridge and how much is something more?

4. Dreary by raspberrybalm [E, 177k]

A vile of Felix Felicis, a Resurrection Stone, and a blond walk into an Avada… The punchline? Draco's life, it would seem. He can't win for losing. His mother's gone, his girlfriend's in love with his mate, and The Order won't take him no matter how many baddies he slaughters. The solution? A Time Turner. The solution to the consequential havoc of messing with time? Harry Potter, of course. Only, the bloke's been dead for fifteen years. Good thing Draco eats Death for breakfast.

5. Pieces Of Me by @shewhomustnotbenamed [E, 88k]

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have never been friends. After finding themselves isolated from others due to their own specific problems, they somehow connect. While Harry ignores his issues with addiction, and Draco disguises just how horrible his relationship is, a friendship blooms between them. Draco must choose between the life he's known for the past five years with Cormac McLaggen, or the life that Harry offers him, and the consequences that follow.

6. Ouroboros by inkysand [T, 81k]

“But now we’re all trapped in this place with Bellatrix lurking around,” Ron said once he’d calmed down. “And it sounds like Malfoy’s all set on fixing the Compact. But what’s that going to do for You-Know-Who? If we get bumped out of here, do we go back and get killed by a dark wizard who’s got all his power back and is already in control at Hogwarts?” None of them had answers to those questions.

7. Silver Tone Rich Kids by @shelvesuponshelves [M, 73k]

Best friends since they were four, Slytherins Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have been the shitty spoiled rich kids of Hogwarts for years. But when Harry decides he wants to improve himself and Draco can't get on board, Draco's world begins to fall apart when Harry moves on to new friends. [...]

8. A Beginner's Guide to Living by kzwjhkdo [E, 62k]

In the aftermath of the war to end all wars, Harry had dutifully tried to follow the path set out for him. He'd tried to hack it as a wizard cop. He'd tried heterosexuality. He'd tried to exist in the public eye as a hero, saviour, beloved golden boy. He'd tried. Ultimately, he'd only lasted a few months before he'd disappeared into thin air. It's been fifteen years, now—it's been precisely fifteen years, six months, and twenty days. A lot has changed. Draco is a photographer, working with Pansy Parkinson at her fashion magazine. He has a potion business on the side. He's grown, he has a carefully cultivated life, and he's sure to have a very normal reaction to seeing Harry Potter again.

9. Infairitance by @toxik-angel [T, 61k]

It's August 1999, and Harry only plans on returning Malfoy's wand to him in his weird little potion shop. The Malfoy he meets there is not the Malfoy he expected. He also was not expecting to see Fred's... unanimated corpse.

10. The Marauders and Harry's 8th year by @ghbookfreak [G, 59k]

A story where the quartet gets transported through time to Harry's 8th year at Hogwarts.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

cheeks pink in the twinkling lights by mr_prongs [E, 21k]

Entrapment by @mykkitno [M, 19k]

Explosive Encounters by TotallyNotMagic [M, 31k]

Harry Potter and the Snake in the Park 'Round his House by @sillspore [M, 30k]

Have you not realised? by Millsy [?, 15k]

Liquid Silk by @coffeedrgn87 [E, 16k]

Long-term by Plume1304 [M, 17k]

Love at it's Kore by @sightedkarma [M, 39k]

Potions, Poisons, and Other Cures for Heartache by semperubi [?, 37k]

retrogade echoes by sectumsempra [E, 35k]

Shelter from the Storm by @actual-howlinglikeaseaturtle [T, 20k]

This isn't the Window to your Soul (Even if you think it is) by @emeraldvssilver [?, 15k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

Drarry Let’s Play Fest 2024 | @drarry-lets-play

HD Hurt-Comfort Fest 2024 | @hd-hurtcomfort-fest

HP Drizzle Fest 2024 | @hpdrizzle

HP Horrible Goose Fest 2024 | @horriblegoosefest

Unleashed! Fest 2024 | @unleashed-fest

Bring Back The Porn Challenge (1)

First Time Exchange 2024 (1)

Freaky Friday 2024

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #monthly review #2024

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pedgito · 11 months ago

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MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter One: Teacher’s Pet

Chapter Summary: First day woes and a difficult semester ahead, you find solace in your caring, attentive creative writing professor who shows you just a little more attention than everyone else, or so you think. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, dream smut, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality.

note: thanks to @planet-marz1 for the last minute beta.

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

There’s a deafening silence that surrounds you when you step into the lecture room, not nearly as big as your other main course classes, it’s intimate. Close. If you kicked a foot out from the chair you were sitting in you could touch the professor’s desk.

Part of you wonders if you were the only person taking this class, sitting for a few minutes alone, not another person in sight—until one files in, then another, until there’s about ten of you seated sparsely in the small space. It’s mostly bare aside from the few books shoved away on a nearby shelf, antiquey books that, no doubt, had a thick layer of dust.

The problem with the class was that you weren’t sure if it was ever going to be a real thing—applying you had the expectation of who your teacher would be, what you could expect from the coursework, and just how manageable it would be amongst the rest of your classes. But, there was little known now.

All you did know was that they had to find a replacement quick, which they did, and you were sure that a sign of their lacking punctuality was a great start, tucking your chin over the bag placed on your desk as you waited in silence amongst simmered voices, feeling starchly out of place.

You didn’t know this place—it was new, Austin. You moved clear across the country on a whim, wanting a new start in a place you’ve never seen before. You’d plucked a community college out of the bunch, not worried with the semantics of applying to some big, ivy league school. You wanted something manageable, something attainable. This seemed like the easiest option, unsuspecting and unknown, you could slink by and go about your life peacefully.

That is what you wanted, after all.

Until you meet Mr. Miller.

Joel could’ve pursued music, or carpentry, or about a billion other things he was skilled at—yet somehow, teaching seemed to be the easiest option. It gave him the familial feeling of caring and guiding that he did enjoy, molding young minds and helping them bloom. He worked at a local high school in Austin for years—fifteen good, long years.

But, he too needed a change. His life was slowly crumbling in on himself.

He sees the job opening on the last weekend of summer, still teetering with the option of returning to his teaching job at the high school—it isn’t as manageable as it used to be, finding that in his older age that dealing with the behavior and arguments with ill-managed kids was more of a hassle than it needed to be for the pay he was receiving.

So, fuck it. He applies.

He gets a call the following Monday and he’s officially added to the staff by the end of the week—and of course, he’s never stepped foot on the campus until his first day. So, he’s lost. Joel realizes how unprofessional it looks, scrambling with his bag as he throws it over his shoulder and haphazardly adjusts his tie, hoping that his hair wasn’t too askew and wild, despite the wind flying through his hair in the chilly bite of the autumn weather.

Things couldn’t have been off to a better start.

There’s the slightest trickling of a thought that you should leave, give up that this class might be an ultimate failure but then he’s walking through the door. You knew his name, but that was as far as your reach extended. Mr. Miller. J. Miller, to be specific.

James. Justin. Jonathan. It was all a mystery to you.

You find that his appearance is less than prepared, mostly disheveled and he seems breathless as he offers a subtle nod of awkward acknowledgement as he slings his bag onto the desk. Thankfully, he seems to understand that there was a tinge of urgency with him being late and he quickly reaches into his bag and pulls out a stack of papers.

Class syllabuses. He hands them off silently to the person on the farthest side of the room and hoping they would get the idea, pass them off until they reach the final person. It’s crisp, stark white paper covered in a boring black-inked text. Nothing seemed out of the norm—different methods of writing you would try over the course of the semester and specific assignments that would pop-up throughout. You enjoyed the predictability of it. Though, there is a significant surprise when your professor begins to speak, pulling your attention to the front of the room.

He’s gathered himself rather quickly, assuming he’s had his fair share of time in the field.

He writes his name out in clear, dignified letters on the board.

Mr. Miller, the screech of a solid drag as he underlines his name.

“I know I’m not who you all were suspecting.” He begins, placing the chalk down, hand wrapping around a balled fist as he cracked his knuckles, walking slowly until he can lean against the edge of his desk, soles of his shoes squeaking against the floor.

“And I’ll admit, I’m new to this,” He waves vaguely around the room, “I’m used to public school and the shittiness that comes with that—so I hope that if I can take this seriously, you all can extend that gesture too.”

You notice how comfortable he seems in group settings, relaxing his broad shoulders as he crosses his arm, glancing around the room casually, never lingering for too long.

“I won’t pester you too much today, given I already wasted some of your time,” Someone snickers softly toward the back of the room and Mr. Miller cracks a subtle smirk, seemingly embarrassed but not offering anything to pick at. “But, I’m willing to answer any questions you have while we have the time today.”

Questions flow in easily: what the semester would consist of, more elaboration outside of the syllabus, some of Mr. Miller’s favorite pieces of literature—part of you expects him to inject the usual ‘around the room introduction’ scheme, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans into the more engaging questions asked, answering as freely and as interested as he can.

He loves Robert Frost, which makes sense. You’re not sure why, but it is predictable.

He is predictable. Sipping on a large mug of what you can only assume is coffee, the smell permeating toward you with where he’s resting against his desk, only a foot or so away. You haven’t managed to catch his gaze yet, which you’re partly thankful for. It allows you to study him, examine his expressions—admire…No.

And while he can continue his talk about favorite authors for days—the class draws to a close sooner than you expect, and you move lazily as most of the class disperses at the first opportunity with it being their final class of the day.

You’re throwing your bag over your shoulder when you hear his voice, addressing the only other person in the room.

You.

“Intimidating?” Your face screws up in confusion, head tilting his way as your eyes connect for the first time. “Oh, uh—sorry, I’ve just been doin’ this a while. I can tell when someone is anxious in class.”

And, while it wasn’t necessarily anxiety—it was more the idea of adjusting. This was new, this place wasn’t familiar and you were just trying to settle in. Mr. Miller seemed like the guy to have deep roots planted into these grounds, familiar with this town like he’s been here his entire life.

He has, but that wasn’t the point.

“No,” You answer indifferently, shrugging your shoulders, “I think your radar might be a little off.”

Joel chuckles softly, tapping his fingers against the leather cover of his bag as he leaned the tops of his thighs against the edge of his desk, “You know—you didn’t partake much in class discussion just now.”

You weren’t sure where he was driving his point, gradually stepping toward his desk, fingers wrapped around the straps of your bag, pulling against the tight material of your shirt as it stretched over your breasts, “And you were about—fifteen minutes late, too.”

Touche. He nods, lips pursed together.

“Just, fair warning—class discussion is a good chunk of your grade, participation and all that. I want you to feel comfortable enough to join in so…however I can help with that.”

Your eyebrows knit together, thoroughly thrown off by his forwardness—or well, so you assumed. He quickly realizes his misstep.

“No—not like…I mean, if there’s anything that you like or are interested in that you want covered over the semester, let me know. I don’t want it to be so focused on stuff that only appeases a few people. Alright?”

You think on his words, chewing at your bottom lip quietly.

He doesn’t know why he feels like he’s standing on the edge, waiting impatiently for your response—but when you do, it feels like he can breathe. Joel didn’t want to fuck this job up and he already felt like he’s stepped off on the wrong foot.

“Alright.” You confirm simply, nodding politely. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He nods in response, the smallest twitch of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Have a good day.” He bids kindly, waving at you haphazardly as you left.

And now the day felt even weirder than when it started.

The first few weeks of class are actually…a delight. You find yourself looking forward to them as the weeks grow on and drag out, slowly making your way through the day and finding that Mr. Miller’s was the only class you could successfully relax in, not so pressure to participate because it was as equally engaging on both ends.

Mr. Miller liked to talk and argue just as animatedly as most students who had a point to prove—and you see why he must’ve been hired on a whim, the ability to charm and wit himself in and out of any scenario he wanted. It was…mesmerizing in a way that intoxicated you and infected your body and mind. He had you locked in every time he opened his mouth, finding your eyes dragging along the planes of his face and his well-kept appearance now that he arrived on time, sharp. Never early, never late.

He was as punctual as they come, slowly littering his classroom with more and more personalization. More literature books, smaller books of poems, packets of some of his favorite script writings and a few non-fiction pieces he thought to be intriguing.

But, the most interesting thing you notice is the small tan line around his ring finger. The advantage of the small classroom allowed for such details to be revealed, alongside knowing when he had taken a certain morning to do a fresh shave of his facial hair or spill a small spattering of coffee against his shirt, dull brown staining the white, crisp button-up he usually dawned alongside the occasional navy blue or black.

So, he was married—you assumed. He just didn’t wear his ring.

The more you indulged in him, the more complex he seemed. The ever mysterious J-something Miller, finding that no matter how hard you looked you couldn’t seem to find any information on him or an inkling of what his first name might be.

He must be a private person—no socials, no good deeds leading to news articles about him, or anything of tangible evidence to allow such information to seep out to the public. He was good at hiding, integrating himself in places he might not belong. He was a natural chameleon, much like yourself.

And you’d like to think you were good at writing considering you were attempting to pursue a career in it, mostly focusing on the aspect of screenwriting and film, not entirely sure what you were after but knowing that was where you wanted to go. You were great at convoluting things and empowering your far too creative imagination—often dangerous. You were never lacking in ideas, but your first assignment is a struggle.

It was something pertaining to non-fiction, a boring topic that Mr. Miller wanted to be intrigued by—he wanted something so mundane to be eye-catching and page-turning. Hanging on the edge of his seat, as he’d said so menacingly.

So, here you were, writing about the monogamous lives of certain breeds of penguins and they’re mates—whatever the fuck that was all about. It’s like he picked obscure topics for this very reason, the difficulty and the need for assistance. He wanted to help and you learned that quickly.

You could’ve been stuck with global warming, so it wasn’t all that bad.

Mr. Miller is leaning against an empty desk as he’s talking to a student a few desks away—yeah, the unlucky one who snagged the global warming topic. His expression is sour, tapping his pencil against the desk rapidly as Mr. Miller talks quietly, nothing that you can make out. He travels around the room gradually, eventually landing on you with a raised eyebrow, seeing that you had some, if not very little outlined.

He looks amused, knowing how you were pulling an absolute fat nothing over this topic. You could sit there and lay out the facts, but that’s not what he wanted. He wanted it to be explained in a way that held you close and dragged you along. It all came down to wording, at the end of the day, and as much as you wanted to prove you were a decent writer, you still had a lot to learn.

“This is so stupid,” You gripe, looking up at him briefly before you continue to stare daggers into the notebook you were scribbling in, “—pardon my language, but what the fuck is this topic?”

Mr. Miller chuckles deeply at that, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll let that slide but try not to make it a habit,” He comments, acknowledging your foul language and understanding the frustration, “—it’s meant to challenge you. The obscurity of it. It’s not complicated, but you don’t want to just write a research paper.”

“Isn’t that…exactly how non-fiction works?” You ask curiously.

“You’ve read biographies, right? Auto-biograhpies and all that?”

You nod quietly.

“And I’m sure some of that caught your intention, right?” He asks and you respond with another nod, though meeker than before. “Non-fiction work is just as important as story-telling. Do some more research, explain why monogamy is sacred to them, explain their mating patterns, the behaviors—are you following?”

“Yeah—because some penguins mate for life, right?” You ask, feeling ridiculous asking him such an obscure question. “At least, I thought they did.”

“Most do.” Mr. Miller nods, “If you find yourself learning enough about the topic and actually finding some interest it won’t come out so…bland. Just look into it and write something you’d find intriguing to read, don’t stress over it that much. It’s just one assignment.”

It eases your worries slightly, but still, the frustration stuck.

“Okay,” You mumble, “Thank you.”

Mr. Miller offers a soft pat to your forearm as he nods silently in acknowledgment.

You were determined to make that assignment your bitch. Plain and simple.

Class discussion days are much easier. You switch between a certain selection of poems to snippets of scripts that Mr. Miller has pulled apart for the class to dissect and mince the words, learning how to write screenplays in a way that was both descriptive but directive and still managed to somehow keep the flow. Poems always seemed a little silly, but it was nice to debate the meanings and nuances of it all, always finding that you preferred to sit back and hear the thoughts of others until Mr. Miller decides he’s had enough one day—two months into the semester when he finally calls on you directly.

It was something he didn’t do often, but you find yourself going wide-eyed. He was always so polite to you, even when he’d catch you staring or lingering on his form for a moment too long, like he knew what you were thinking.

He was tall and—as was glaringly obvious, broad. His shoulders were immense and large as he extended his hands out and talked animatedly, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks stretching over taut, tight muscle as he planted a foot in a nearby chair or stretched his stance out slightly as he stood—often finding it hard to stay still the longer class drew on.

You pull your attention to him, an innocent gaze glazing over your features.

“Why don’t you read the next poem?” He asks curiously.

“Oh—um,” Your eyes flick toward the poem book held tight in your grip, flitting to find the the place where the class last left off, so distracted you find yourself scrambling, but Mr. Miller is quick to lean over without much show or way of embarrassing you, pointing out the spot where the class last left of, blunt nail scratching against the paper as you follow the trail of his finger, you clear your throat and start:

“How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.”

The point was to interpret the words and form an explanation for why they were used, what they were trying to explain, but you lose any sense of thought when your eyes drag up to meet Mr. Miller and he’s staring right back, allowing you all the attention in the world.

Like no one else in the room existed. It was all a delusion in your own head, something you weren’t privy to then, but you believed whole-heartedly in the moment. He was just allowing you the floor and sharing you the same attention he had with everyone else.

At least, that’s what he tried to do.

Mr. Miller clears his throat to subtly bring you back down to earth when he notices your mind fleeing from your body, asking an easy, “So, what do we think about this one?”

No one answered, staunchly disinterested as they stared at you, waiting for a response as you were the only one who had avoided participating all day.

“Uh, it—it sounds like the love isn’t being returned,” You start slow, dissecting the words in your brain as Mr. Miller nods, “but that person is willing to show up and offer more to make up for it, maybe even to their own…undoing, I guess.”

“There’s really no right or wrong,” He addresses the class as a whole but pointedly acknowledges your observation, “and that’s the best thing—you’re allowed to think as individuals and come up with your own conclusions. Good job.”

The final part is directed at you. It makes you feel warm, gooey—like you were being given a star for good behavior or gentle praise under the guise of friendly language.

You despise how hard it is to stay focused some days with how often Mr. Miller likes to pick on you and point you out—but he sees potential there. Real potential. Not to say that it isn’t within the rest of the class, he just sees…more. And it intrigues him in a way that feels dangerous, but he wants to ensure that you are given the proper support needed, even if that means a little extra attention.

It was harmless, after all.

Your first big assignment comes three months into the semester.

It’s a simple writing assignment but tactful and heavy, given a week to complete it before you were due to turn it in for a final grade. A collection of self-written poems, the outline for a possible script idea for a scene, and a small creative writing assignment that must include some kind of supernatural element. You appreciate the Mr. Miller never allowed things to lay stagnant with his work, always giving you something to think about.

And everyone loved him, that much was blatantly obvious. He was, easily, one of the hottest professors at the college for someone his age—you could only assume he was somewhere in his late 40s. But, there remained the unknown of if he was married, something people debated often, but you examined in the privacy of your own mind.

There was no indication of another—no pictures lingering on his desk as his classroom continued to collect belongings, no screensaver on his phone or laptop (because yes, you were observant) that gave you any idea of what his partner looked like. And he never mentioned anything outside of his own interest in literature. The curiosity with no discovery was only slightly disappointing, because despite that, Mr. Miller showed his attention toward you like you were the only person in the room.

And maybe it was like that for everyone, but it felt special to you. There was always a little extra to give to you that he didn’t offer to everyone else.

You turn in your assignment a few minutes before it is due, well into the late hours of the night.

Mr. Miller, unbeknownst to you, smiles when he sees the notification on his computer as he sits in his office at home, scrolling down the deep troves of porn in the darkened space, quickly clicking away to another browser as he hears the door creak, his wife poking her head through the crack with a smile.

“Hey, it’s late—you comin’ to bed soon?” Tess asks, eyes ringed with a deep exhaustion.

Joel nods, scratching at the side of his face, blinking tiredly.

“Yeah. In a bit,” He excuses, “Just tryin’ to catch up on these assignments and then I’ll be done.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Things had been rough since the affair—finding that Tess had been sleeping with her boss at her law firm for a few months, something she swore meant nothing, despite how long it dragged on in secret. Joel forgave her, mostly. They were managing, attempting the idea of marriage counseling, but he still couldn’t bring himself to put his wedding band back on, despite how proudly she wore hers still.

He had his own reservations on the matter and while he was trying to work things out, he wasn’t sure they could ever resume the same rhythm they had before, thinking that this was something he had for life, slowly crumbling and falling between his fingertips.

This was why he needed a change of pace, something different.

And maybe he was stupid for entertaining the obvious affection you showed toward him—he definitely was, but he does it anyways. It was playful, so meaningless and harmless that he didn’t even think twice about it. He could see you craved the attention and while he couldn’t be bothered to save that energy for Tess anymore, he could try to offer it to you.

Because you—you had so much potential. It was refreshing, seeing so much of his younger self in you, drive and dedication. The willingness to question stuff without fear.

He clicks on the email notification with your assignment, opening in a separate browser as he rises to lock his office door quietly, before returning to his other browser as he sat and unbuckled the thick leather belt around his waistband, a dignified zip that echoes throughout the confines of the office, reverberates and reminds him of his own loneliness.

And he shouldn’t picture your face as he finds himself aching and fucking deseprate into his fist, soft gunts muffled behind clenched teeth. But, he does. And he loves it.

He’s so fucked.

The comments on your assignment come a few days later, curled up in your bed in the small apartment you rented out, scrolling desperately to find out any further information on Mr. Miller but coming up with absolutely nothing. What a fucking ghost he was.

You’re curious, though—so you quickly switch to your emails to check his response and what your grade ended up being after how hard you worked to make sure it turned out perfect. Better than perfect actually. You hoped that with his obvious relationship woes he would appreciate the angst and underlying meanings in your poems, a bunch of bullshit you couldn’t relate to but hoped, on a whim, that he might.

‘Way to press on the idea of heartbreak, well done. Very expressive and real. Thank you for pouring those feelings into your work, though I hope no one has ever broken your heart that bad. Wonderful job.’

And he scores you a 90/100.

Which—whatever. You could accept it. Still, you wondered if those lingering ten points lied with him and his own bitter dealings. You’re fingers are curled around the laptop, ready to close when you get another notification blaring through your speakers.

You lift the laptop to stare at the screen, seeing an email come in from an unknown sender—though, the name grabs your attention immediately. First name, last name, followed by a series of number you can only assume is a birth year—not the school email Mr. Miller had previously sent you a response from.

You perk up, legs crossing over each other as you take a peek at the contents of the glaring email, seeing that it had links to a few books, followed by:

‘I hope you don’t mind my emailing you like this. But, I have a few pieces I think you may enjoy and would help with some of what you’re trying to convey in your writing. You have a beautiful way of expressing feeling and you should harness that. Let me know what you think. :)’

In hindsight, Joel should’ve never sent it. But, there was an urge there he couldn’t fight.

Maybe it was out of spite for his life and his wife betraying him, his urge to try and do some real good for someone, seeing that potential in you no matter how inappropriate it may be to go around school ruling and message you from his private email.

But, now you had a sliver of information. A peek into who Mr. Miller—Joel Miller, was.

It sends you down a spiral, searching and scouring for any information available online.

You find out that he’s 48…or 49, not entirely sure of his actual birthday. Only going off the year designated in his email. And that he’s a published author, but nothing of significance. He used to be a high school teacher and he was…or is, married. It’s all vague and unassuming, but it has your mind stirring. Wondering what was so interesting about him, what part of him had crawled into your mind and refused to get out.

And him messaging you on a private email—complimenting you with unnecessary eagerness, even when it wasn’t needed. You can’t be this delusional. There’s something there, even if neither of you have spoken on it explicitly.

The faint touches and smiles traded, the hard-gazed looks and glances over his shoulder as he does a sweep of the room, always spending just a smidgen of extra time over your desk when you ask for help.

It makes you feel special. And that’s exactly what you need.

You fall asleep that night with a wild idea in your head, wondering just how brave you could be in this situation. It burrows into your mind and seeps into your dreams:

You’re pressed against the edge of a desk in a dark office, the solid wood pressed flat against your cunt as you lean forward and capture the lips of the person in front of you, a shaky breath coming from their mouth.

“Want that pretty mouth ‘round my cock.” He says—your heart skips, nearly stops.

You don’t know why you’re surprised to hear Joel’s voice, but it clears your mind and his hazy face finally comes into view in all of it’s intricate detail, right down to the soft crinkle of skin around his eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he pulls away to look at you, lips puffed from the kissing and seeming so innocent as he spoke in such a depraved manner.

Delicate fingers drag along the shape of your lips, stopping at your cupid’s bow before he’s pressing two fingers inside, grabbing the hand relaxed at your side and pressing it over the front of his slacks, the hard line of his cock pressing against the zipper.

There’s no other word to offer than intimidating, his size morphing any idea that you might’ve had–which, you did. His slacks are well-tailored, form fitting, and if he stretched just the right way in class you could see the head or outline of his cock press against the fabric for a split second….and you observed. A lot.

“Wanna stuff your mouth, huh?” He asks, eyes rolling back as his fingers press down on your tongue, quickly pulling out as he grips your face, spit spreading across your cheek, gasping at the suddenness of his movement. “Think it’ll fit?”

He sounds so condescending, eyeline over you but downcast on your figure from where your perched against his desk, idle hand exploring the soft, plush skin of your thighs as he drags his fingers along the full expanse of your cunt and it sets your whole body on fire, like you’re feeling everything dialed to an impossible level, every nerve in your body coming to life.

You shake your head meekly, gasping when he yanks you forward suddenly.

“Guess we’ll have to train that filthy mouth then, won’t we?” His eyebrow quirks up salaciously, earning a less than subtle grin as he presses his fingers into the wet spot of your underwear, not breaking the barrier but allowing you to feel the pressure.

And just as you feel yourself grabbing onto something tangible, hands gripped in the lapel of his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, you’re startling awake with a gasp.

You could feel your imagination mixing with reality, falling lazily back against your bed as your chest heaved hurried breaths, palms pressed over your chest in an effort to calm down, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The room was hot, too hot to feel comfortable anymore.

Your lip pulls between your teeth, chewing thoughtfully at a bad idea.

You reach blindly for your laptop laid out near the end of your bed, opening the device with a swiftness, squinting at the blinding screen that burned at this time of night.

Nearly two in the morning—this was pointless.

But, you hit reply on his email anyways and slowly type out a response.

‘Thank you for noticing, Mr. Miller. It’s greatly appreciated and I will definitely look into those sources and give you a full, detailed review. :) I appreciate you thinking of me as someone so esteemed. I would love to talk more about literature, if that feels appropriate.’

The lines were already blurred. He’d blurred them. You were just smudging them a little more.

You never said that starting fresh meant you had to stay on your best behavior. Because really, there was nothing innocent about what game was developing between you both.

It was a game of chess and you felt a million moves ahead, nearing a checkmate—and you would do anything to have Joel Miller in the way you craved. Anything.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedrostories #professor!joel miller #miller's girl #my writing

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pinkthrone445 · 4 months ago

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-Baila conmigo- Part 3

(Dance with me)

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Fun, soft, smut, hurt

Warnings:SMUT! TAKE YOUR SITS PEOPLE AND SOME DEEP BREATHS BECAUSE MEL IS RIDING YOUR FACE!

MINORS STAY AWAY, BARBARA IS WATCHING YOU. 👀

Summary:Mel finds you sad in a bar and decides to step in, not knowing that life will bring you back together again. Then a night destiny gets you closer than ever.

Just as quickly as time began to pass, you quickly became friends with the other teachers at school as well. While the redhead and that funny flirtation with her was your favorite interaction of the day, you also liked to spend time with others, especially with Jacob and all his witticisms.

Although you had already been working at school and "dating" the redhead for a month and a little more, the moments with her had not been more than a few goings out and a couple of wild kisses. You hadn't had something more intimate yet and it wasn't because you hadn't proposed it, but because she wasn't ready or sure to take that step yet, so you were patient about it and didn't wanted to push anymore. She didn't even know your house yet. But all that was about to change.

While you were in your classroom correcting a couple of your students' assignments taking advantage of the fact that they were sleeping a very well deserved nap after PE, the redhead entered your classroom very careful not to make noise and wake them. You looked up from the papers to pay attention to her, frowning at the sight of the tiredness under her eyes

-"Hola Mel, is everything okay? Do you want to sit?" - You asked worried

-"No, I'm okay... I came to ask you a favor... After school can I go with you to your house? Jacob is bringing his new "friend" home and the walls are too thin and I don't want to listen to them. Please?"-she asked with a very tired tone. The request took you by surprise, since you started working at school, the redhead repeated over and over again that you and she could not have a romantic relationship because it would make everything very complicated and strange, plus it was not what she was looking for. Even though you felt attraction to her, you accepted those terms, so your interactions with her limited to a few goings out, drinks and nothing else. But this request took you by surprise, she could have gone with Barbara or even Janine, but no, she came to ask you and that made you feel something that you couldn't quite place-"Can I? Please?" - she asked again bringing you to reallity

-"Yes Mel, no problem" - You tried to play it cool even though that made you very exited. She smiled and kissed your forehead

-"Thank you sweetheart" - she whispered, even though her eyes still looked tired, her face seemed more relaxed-"See you later" - she said before going back to her classroom.

At the end of the work day you couldn't stay put because of the excitement you had about she coming to your house, but you tried not to let it show, especially when the redhead started walking next to you to go to your car.

After a short drive filled with class day talk, you parked the car in your garage.

As soon as you entered your house, the redhead let out a sigh of tiredness

-"This shoes are killing me, these clothes are making me so uncomfortable" - she complained looking at your couch- "that looks comfortable...."-she whispered with tired eyes and you laughed

-"My room is upstairs if you want to pick something more confy to wear while I cook..."-you offer and she smiled like a little kid in a candy store almost running upstairs to change.

A few moments latter, the redhead came down using your confy long sleeve fútbol t-shirt and without her boots, only using the big shirt and socks.

Your eyes started at her feet, her purple socks with little flowers were so cute, it made great contrast with the white milky skin of her legs. Her skin looked so soft and perfect, it surprised you how she barely had age marks on them, and you loved how her thighs were so full and had no gap between them. Then your long t-shirt covered the place you had imagined night after night when you felt all hot and bother, but you could still see the shape of her hips because the fabric hug them perfectly, the same with her boobs, she filled that t-shirt so much better than you. When you reached her face, she had a smug smile seeing how long you had stared at her. She looked like pure perfection, it wasn't your fault for staring.

You knew the thing that you and her had wasn't romantic, but every time that you knew something new of her, you couldn't avoid falling deeper for her. You were so fucked. If you were honest with yourself, you had never been attracted to someone as you were attracted to her, she was the perfect mix of mischief, intelligence and beauty. You didn't know if you liked more how witty she was when she spoke or the silence that fill the air every time you had the chance to kiss her.

A sigh left your lips and you forced yourself to take your eyes off her to return to the chesse risotto you were making, she laughed and took the bottle of beer that was next to you, taking a sip without letting go of her arrogant smile

-"That smells amazing" - she rested her chin in your shoulder, hugging your waist and laughed softly when you didn't answer-"The cat got your tongue?" - she pressed her chest on your back

-"That shirt looks good on you... But I don't want to eat my dessert before the meal and ruin my appetite, so stop teasing and wipe out that smug look on your face, go to the couch and pick a movie to watch"- you jocked pretending to be annoyed and she kissed your shoulder laughing before letting you go

-"So bossy" - she said going to the couch putting a depper swing in her hips, sure that you would be watching while she walked away, and she was no wrong.

When the meal was ready, you took two plates to the couch along with two beers, where the redhead was already comfortably curled up in a blanket while watching House wives, looking happily at you and the food.

You didn't know how, but by the time the two of you had already finished what you had made for lunch and the beers you brought, the two of you were snuggled together on the couch, the redhead was sitting on your hips and your hands where on her thighs as you shared wet, slow, deep kisses.

You weren't sure if the TV was playing low in the background or if your heart was beating so hard you couldn't hear the noise properly. The only thing you knew was that you never wanted that moment to end.

Her tongue and yours played softly trying to dominate each other, sometimes even your teeth and hers gently clashed but it was no reason to stop. Her loose hair fell like a waterfall on your face tickling you and the swaying of her hips on yours made you feel butterflies in your stomach. Your curious hands ran over the skin of her legs, slowly getting under that t-shirt she was wearing only to discover more of the warmth of her skin that drove you crazy.

The redhead from time to time let out small angelic moans that made you moan too, it was like when you eat something delicious and you can't help but let out a sound because of how good it is, she was good enough to deserve all the noises of appreciation.

Melissa began to lower her kisses to your jaw until she reached your neck, while her hands played with the buttons of your shirt opening them little by little

-"Mel..."-Your voice was agitated and came out weaker than you wanted-"Are you sure you want this? Because I do want to, but I've heard you say many times how complicated it would get if we started dating..." - You commented scared that she would move away but it was necessary to talk about it before it went further on

-"I'm sure of this, because this doesn't mean that we are dating or anything serious, it's just two grown-up friends having fun, just that, nothing else. No one else has to find out about this, just you and me blowing some steam" - she answer between kisses finally taking your shirt off.

Although you were a little bit hurt by what she said, especially because you hoped that this would mean something more important to her like it was to you, you didn't stop her. You would rather have bits and pieces of love from her, than have nothing at all.

You'd rather have this kind of fun as "friends" than just be real normal friends without having anything else involved.

When your mind stopped scheming and you focused on the present again, you changed positions on the couch. You left the redhead sitting on the cushions and you knelt on the floor in front of her, between her legs, taking off the blouse she was wearing and throwing it away leaving her only in her black underwear.

The contrast of the darkness of her underwear against her almost clear skin made you salivate, you wanted to bite and mark her whole body, make her yours even if that wasn't the case.

After licking your lips trying to control your impulses a little, you kissed her lips again which were a little more swollen than normal and that only made them more delicious. Your hands explored her back playing with the straps of her bra and leaving small scratches with your nails as your lips went down to her abundant breasts, giving kisses and some licks you mapped all over the skin that was exposed. And finally, when your hands detached her bra from the way, your lips connected with her nipples sucking hard, while one of your hands played with the other by twisting and pinching it gently. Melissa let out moans that sounded like a mix of a symphony and a porn movie at the same time. Her hands went to your hair playing with it and making a mess, grabbing it in her hands and gently pulling it whenever your teeth bit into her soft skin. Her back arched gently leaving a perfect space for you to put your arm there and gently lift her off the couch to remove the only piece of clothing she had left, her soaking and ruined panties.

Your hands returned to her breasts while still playing with them, but your lips continued their kisses, going down and making a wet trail down her abdomen to her crotch.

The warmth and aroma that her center radiated made you feel dizzy from desire, specially when you could see how she was literally dripping for you.

-"What a show you are putting for me Mel" - You said aroused grabbing one of her legs and putting her foot supporting on your shoulder, making her knee bend lightly. Your wet lips gently touched her skin, giving soft and went kisses on her thighs while your hand squeezed the outside of her leg, giving a great contrast between your gentle kisses and the roughness in which your hand squeezed her skin.

The redhead dropped her head backwards resting the back of her neck on the couch, closing her eyes while enjoying your caresses. From your point of view, the way her legs were spread, her center dripping, her chest rising agitaded making her boobs bounce a little, her messy hair against the leather of the couch and her relaxed pleasured face, she looked like an angel that came to visit you to earth to make you feel like you were having a piece of heaven in your hands, holding the paradise between your finger tips. If you looked up the description of perfection in the dictionary you were sure you could find a picture of her.

Your soft kisses became some more passionate the closer you got to her center, leaving marks on the inside of her thighs where there was no risk of someone else finding them. When you finally got your face in front of her crotch you could feel how you literally started salivating for her. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes to enhance your other senses, slightly sticking out the tip of your tongue and slowly running over her outer lips until you reached almost her center dripping, but instead of coming in, you stuck your tongue out a little bit more and went back up parting her outer lips until you reached her clit, licking it in gentle circles.

The redhead's hands gripped your hair tightly again and moved her hips against your face gently, rocking back and forward making the leather of your couch squeak. Your fingers joined the work your tongue was doing and began to play gently at her entrance, filling them with her juices and moistening them completely even though you hadn't yet delved into her. Your lips formed an "o" shape and you began to suck on that pleasure button that was becoming more and more swollen and sensitive. Melissa began to let out more desperate sounds and move her hips against your face with less and less control each time.

When two of your fingers finally got into her, her back immediately arched putting more pressure on your shoulder with her leg and almost completely lifting her hips off the couch, giving you a new angle at which your fingers could enter her more deeply and comfortably.

The way her walls hugged your fingers made you moan with pleasure, the way she clenched only because of you, was something you weren't expecting to feel that good, to make her feel that good.

-"If you stop now I will... I will kill you" - she said between heavy breathings and desperate moans. You wanted to reply but your mouth was too busy tasting her heavily juices to stop now.

When you added one more finger you began to feel a little difficulty with following the pace you were taking before since her walls were getting tighter and tighter around you. Her hands pressed you more closer against her center and she ride your face faster.

At the moment you started to lick her whole pussy with your tongue flattened against her and then going back to her clit to play in circles while your fingers where still plunging inside her, her body began to shake and she came in your hand without more warnings.

Your movements continued a little longer until she slumped against the couch with her body completely relaxed and an angelic smile. You decided to clean her with your tongue enjoying a little more the unique flavor of her juices, kissing every part of her body until you returned to her face and kissed her lips softly making her moan still numb and gone for the strong orgasm

-"You are good" - she said smiling dizzy "My turn now" - she smiled mischievously kissing you again.

That kind of cardio continued for many rounds more until you two couldn't take it anymore and decide to cuddle on the couch under your blanket.

When you were about to fall asleep with her body on top of yours, her phone rang with a message notification, she sat on your hips grabbing her phone and laughing lightly

-"Jacob says that the house is empty now..."-she said to you and felt a little bit sad thinking she would like to go back to her house to sleep now that the fucking part was over, but instead of that, she turned off the phone and got confortable on top of you hiding in your neck ready to sleep without saying another word.

After that, nigths like that happened a lot more often, nights in where she would stay at your house after a sheared dinner and sex or you would stay in hers if Jacob wasn't there to see you arrive.

More months began to pass, more months sharing passionate nights together, more times hearing "this nights are only something physical since something romantic would complicate things because we are co-workers", more months working at Abbot and more months falling more deeply in love with her hoping that one day she would finally stopped using that silly coworkers excuse.

After working there for almost a year, Janine decided to come back and make your work as a substitute come to an end. But thank heavens you quickly got an offer in a new place, which opened your life to new possibilities.

Those new possibilities made you realize that maybe now you could have something that you always wanted...

-"What is going on sweetheart? You seem distracted" - The redhead asked when she realized that you were not paying attention to the movie or her

-"I... I got a new job offer now that my sub time ended at Abbot" - You said still hugging her while you two watched a movie at her house, she smiled looking at you very happily

-"That's great! Congratulations" - she hugged you and you signed - "You don't look happy with that... What happened?" - she asked again, worried

-"I'm happy with the job, don't get me wrong... But something was going through my mind... I was wondering... Maybe now that we won't work together anymore, things will be less complicated if we decide to officially date... You know, like girlfriends?" - You said hopefully and she stoped smiling

-"Oh kiddo... That's... I don't... That's not what I'm looking for right now... I just wanted to have a little of fun... But if that has became a problem for you, maybe we can stay being only friends now that we won't see each other so often?" - she tried to play it cool and you frowned

-"Friends?... When have we been just friends?"-you asked and she smiled softly

-"Always? You are a great friend to me... This is fun and all but I don't see you like anything more than a friend right now..." - she repeated and you started to feel a little bit angry and sad

-"So every time that you told me that we couldn't be together because would become a problem, professionally talking, was all a lie to keep me entertained? You just didn't wanted to be with me at all and you used that as an excuse?" - You asked hurt and she started to get nervous

-"I... Just... I thought... "-She stuttered

-"I have seen the way you look at me Melissa, you can't say that's it's how you look at a friend" - You replied hopefully waiting for her to realize that she has feelings for you

-"I... I look like that to the people I care about... Like Barb, that doesn't mean I want to date her" - she was quick to think and answer to ease you

-"You don't fuck with Barbara" - You said angrily- "You can't tell me you don't feel anything after 7 months fucking and slepping together Mel..."-you said, hopefully trying to making her realized

-"I appreciate you... But just as a good friend..."-she repeated AGAIN and you rolled your eyes

-"Do you remember that first night at the bar? From that first moment I knew that you and I had a connection and I know you felt it too... When the night was over, it was like if your face was tattooed on my soul, in a single dance I gave you my life and I began to miss you as if I had known you for years...You can't ask me to settle with being only friends when we have never been friends Mel... From moment one we were something more and you know it."-you tried to stay strong, but every passing moment made you feel a bigger lump at your troat and you felt like the waterfalls wanted to scape from your eyes

-"I'm scared of breaking our friendship if this doesn't work" - she kept putting up new excuses making you feel more sad

-"You are scared of breaking a friendship that doesn't exist, we have never been friends Melissa, from the moment one that we met, we started kissing and fucking each other, that's not how friendships start, that's not part of friendships at all. You can't put me in the friendzone because I have never been your friend... I can't be your friend when I want to be everything for you"-You whispered very weakly trying not to avoid her gaze

-"I'm sorry sweetheart... But I don't feel the same" - she said sadly and you got up from the couch holding your tears for dear life-"Wait, what are you doing?" - she asked scared

-"I'm going to my home... I can't be near you, not anymore, it hurts. I'm sorry" - You grabbed your jacket and she quickly stood up following you

-"Hey, the fact that I don't want a romantic relationship it's not reason to leave" - she whispered trying not to grab your hand and forcing you to stay

-"The fact that we don't want the same thing is reason enough to leave... I'm sorry Mel but I can't be your friend... I hope one day you feel the same love that I feel about you, I hope one day you feel it too, even if it's for someone else and not for me," - You said closing the door behind you, leaving the redhead with an emptiness and cold she was no expecting, leaving the best part of your heart and hopes there and taking the rest in peaces. Wishing that cupid would take pity on your sad soul and touch the redhead's heart so that she would come out after you, telling you that she didn't want to lose you and that she loved you too, but cupid would have to be an expert in anatomy to aim for a heart that doesn't exists.

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary fanfic #abott elementary #abott elementary fanfic #lissa ann walter #lesbian #lisa ann walter fanfic #pinkthrone445 #abbot elementary #melissa schemmenti abott elementary #melissa schemmenti smut #melissa ann schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

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kjupchurch-xx · 3 months ago

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Professor Jackman (WattPad request)

I tapped my pencil repeatedly on my essay as I tried to figure out how to write about our topic for the week. My college classroom was completely silent, besides the sounds of my mechanical pencil hitting my notebook. I mindlessly looked up, seeing my Professor, Professor Jackman staring at me almost amused at my disruption of the classroom, which caused me to blush nervously and quickly drop the pencil.

Professor Jackman was a young, handsome Professor. He was around 27 years old and taught our English Literature college class. He joined our University this year, and this was his first time in America. This was my first year at University, also my first semester. I was attending college for a degree in business management, but had been required to take a college skilled English Lit class before I could proceed with a degree. I had turned 18 earlier this year, celebrating with my best friend, Bianca, who was also placed in the English Lit class.

We'd spend hours after class discussing how hot we thought our professor was. The way he smiled, his accent, the way he smelled and the way he always showed up in a casual suit. Another fellow classmate attempted to flirt with him, other teachers would flirt with him, he'd always shrug them off in an effort to maintain professionalism. Not to mention, a student-teacher relationship is extremely forbidden and grounds for termination.

I gave him a nervous smile as I quickly picked my pencil back up and went back to my essay. I was at a complete loss. Professor Jackman had assigned us to read a book about the life of Henrietta Lacks, which required an essay to be written for the exam.

"Ms. Jordan?" I heard Professor Jackman's voice say, causing me to look up from the still blank paper.

"Yes, Professor?" I asked anxiously.

"Can we have a moment outside?" He asked, giving me firm look, which caused me to shutter.

He was a no non-sense teacher. He did not put up with insubordination whatsoever. He was strict, but genuinely wanted his class to succeed.

I nodded as I quickly got up from my desk and walked towards the classroom door, entering the empty hallway, he followed behind me, softly closing the door to avoid disrupting the other students.

"Is everything okay, Ms. Jordan?" He asked me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I looked at his beautiful face. "Yes, Professor. Everything's fine. I'm just having a difficult time with my essay." I said nervously.

He gave me a slight nod, "Once we dismiss, I'd like to speak with you again." He said sternly.

I nodded, "Yes, sir." I said as I walked back into the class and sat back at my desk.

As I went back to my essay, I couldn't help but glance around the room. I kept noticing the professor stealing glances at me. Each time I'd lock eyes with him, he'd give me a small smile and look down at the stack of papers he was mindlessly grading on his desk. I couldn't help but let my mind run wild as I continued catching him stealing glances at me. I wondered what he was thinking about or why he kept continuing to look at me, not bothering to look at the other students.

As our day came to an end, the Professor told the class to turn their papers in by placing them in a basket on his desk. Each student got up, but I stayed behind, waiting for everyone to clear the room. Bianca noticed and mouthed to me, 'what are you doing?', I sighed, mouthing back with a panicked expression on my face, 'I'm in trouble'.

As everyone else exited the class, I made my way up to his desk, sitting my blank paper down. He got up and closed the door after the other students had left. He sat on top of his desk and looked at me curiously, a smile appearing on his lips. "What seems to be the problem?" He asked casually, as he grabbed my blank paper.

I sighed, nervously running my fingers through my hair. "I'm not very good at essays...Unless it's a topic that I'm passionate about." I said honestly.

He smirked at me, "So I have to give you a topic that fascinates you?"

I chuckled softly, "I'm sorry, Professor. I'm just being honest. If I'm not invested in what I'm reading, it's hard for me to write about it."

He shifted on his desk, looking at me with a playful smirk, "What would you say fascinates you?" He asks.

I shrugged with a small giggle, "You really want to know what fascinates me?"

He chuckled softly, "You're my star student. I'd love to know many things about you."

I gave him a look, furrowing my brow. "I'm your star student?" I asked in disbelief.

He smirked, "Your grades are fairly decent. You're admired by your peers... I'm starting to get quite smitten with you myself."

I almost choked on my saliva as I widened my eyes, taking a deep breath. "You're smitten with me? What is going on right now?" I asked, chuckling.

He chuckled at my reaction, "Ms. Jordan, you're a beautiful 18-year-old woman. I'm smitten with you. And I've also overheard you and your friend Bianca talk about me during class."

I blushed instantly, feeling my cheeks becoming hot. Bianca and I had made comments recently about how unbelievably hot we found him. It was the day Bianca decided to "accidentally" drop her journal in front of him and slowly bend over to see if he would react to her. Which did not work out in her favor.

He smiled, "I have to say, I'm flattered you find me...What was the word you used, Ms. Jordan? Dreamy?" He laughed softly.

I laughed, "I did say that..." I said softly as I mentally face palmed myself.

He slid off the desk and got closer to my face, "I think you're dreamy too, love." He said flirtatiously.

I giggled, "Professor, I-"

He quickly cut me off, "Class has been dismissed. You can call me Hugh. I don't expect you to call me Professor outside of class hours." He said sweetly, giving me a smile.

This was starting to get less creepy.

He chuckled, "I had you stay over because I was going to offer to help you with your essay."

I gave him a look, raising my brow, "Isn't that against the rules?" I chuckled.

He laughed softly, with a nod, "Well...There are a lot of things that are against the rules that I've said in this exchange, but me helping you with an essay would not be the worst one."

I laughed as I sat back down at one of the desks. For the next hour, he sat at a nearby desk and helped me with my essay. Occasionally, he'd sneak his arm over my shoulder or steal a glance at me. Although I tried focusing on the essay, I couldn't help but think back to him telling me he was smitten with me. He'd noticed my mind was preoccupied, so he took it upon himself to write a majority of the essay himself.

I looked at the perfectly written essay, "There we go. And you're done." He said with a smile as he placed the paper on his desk to grade with the others.

I smiled, "I appreciate that...But you didn't have to write it for me. I don't want to get you in trouble." I said softly.

He shook his head, placing his hand over the top of mine. "No worries, love. Just keep this between you and I." He said softly as his fingers caressed mine.

I nodded, giving him a smile before quickly thanking him and skipping out of the classroom to head home. As I'd driven home, I felt my phone buzz.

Professor Jackman: You left your pencil.

The text read aloud through the bluetooth in my car. I giggled, realizing he used my pencil as an excuse to text me. I grabbed my phone, texting him back.

Me: Did I? Thank you for reminding me. I was distracted by a dreamy professor and must've forgotten it.

Professor Jackman: Touche... I would've forgotten my pencil too.

I chuckled at his response before pulling up at home.

As the semester went on, the Professor and I had become a little too close. He spent the remainder of the semester writing my essays, coming over for late night 'study sessions' at my apartment to ensure that I'd pass his class. The study sessions were typically spent with maybe 30 minutes of actual studying, with the remainder of the night spent cuddling and making out on my couch. Other students had begun noticing him start to favor me, which had begun causing problems.

The one person I didn't expect it to cause problems with, was Bianca. She'd become increasingly suspicious. I was never available after class to hang out, or on weekends anymore. She noticed how I'd started purposely wearing low cut tops to class and how the professor would always praise me a bit more than the others and use me as the example student for a majority of demonstrations.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, he's a creep!" She spat at me.

I rolled my eyes, "Why are you acting like this? Were you not literally bending over purposely to get him to look at your ass?" I yelled back.

She chuckled, "I was, but I guess I just wasn't good enough! It's all good though boo, I'm sure Principle Ayers would love to hear this." She said as she hung up on me.

As I paced my apartment on the verge of a panic attack for the next hour, there was a knock on my door. I quickly ran to the door and opened it, seeing him standing there. I looked at him frantically, which caused his expression to go from a smile to a look of concern.

"Love, what's wrong?" He asked as he quickly walked in, closing the door behind him.

I took a deep, trembling breath, "Bianca is telling Principle Ayers." I said shakily, avoiding eye contact with him.

He pulled me into his arms, "Did you tell her about us?" He asked as he stroked my hair.

I shook my head, "No. She figured it out on her own. And I think the last time she was here, she went through my phone..." I said softly.

He sighed as he held me tightly, "I asked you to delete those..." He said, softly scolding me.

I sighed, "I know, I know. I just wasn't expecting this to happen."

He looked down at me, pulling away slightly to see my face, "Everything will be fine, love... We're both consenting adults. Yes, it's forbidden but the worst that can happen would be I'd lose my job." He chuckled, "I can easily find another."

I looked at him seriously, "You're not worried about losing your job?"

He smiled at me, "You're worth the risk, love." He cheekily winked at me before softly kissing my lips, "I love you." He said suddenly with a smile.

I looked at him for a minute before responding, "I... love you too." I said, gazing into his eyes.

He smiled at me, blushing slightly, "I brought your favorite - Reese's Cups and a Dr. Pepper." He said cheekily as he handed me a bag that contained a pack of Reese's and a drink.

I smiled as I grabbed it, "Aww, you didn't have to do that." I said giggling as I sat the bag down and sat down on the couch.

He smirked, "I know they're your favorite and I wanted to surprise you." He said as he sat down beside me on the couch, pulling me into his chest.

His phone began ringing, he grabbed it noticing it was Principle Ayers calling.

"Mrs. Ayers." He said as he answered the call and gave me a 'stay calm' look as he turned the phone on speaker.

"Mr. Jackman." She said before continuing, "There has been a situation brought to my attention that I need to speak with you about."

He nodded at me, "Yes ma'am, go ahead." He said calmly.

She sighed through the phone, "Mr. Jackman, I hate to have this conversation with you, but it has been brought to my attention that you're having an inappropriate relationship with a student."

He took a deep breath, laughing softly, "Mrs. Ayers, I can assure you that is simply not the truth."

She chuckled, "This particular student has a history of not performing well academically... I did not necessarily believe her story, but I do have to investigate all accusations. The only thing I will tell you, is if there is a particular student that you're interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with, please wait until the end of the semester when the student is no longer in your class." She said, knowingly.

He nodded, "Ah. I do appreciate you for calling and informing me of the matter." He said simply as they ended the call. He looked over at me and gave me a small smile, running his fingers through his dark colored hair, "All good, love." He said matter of factly.

I giggled as I squeezed him tightly before pecking his lips. "So we have exactly two more weeks of being a secret." I mumbled against his lips.

He giggled against my lips, "I can assure you that after your semester ends, I fully intend on you no longer being my dirty little secret, sweetheart."

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