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stuck-onapuzzle · 3 years ago

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For Your Consideration

Summary: Michael finally follows through on his threats to take you to a Cooperative meeting, and you hate what you see. Your plan as to how to get Michael to not end the world needs to change, and soon, but the heat of the moment gets to you before you can even think about that.

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: I've been writing this fic for 3 years now, I think. And for three years, I've heard variations of the same question repeated over and over again. "When are Michael and reader finally gonna have sex?" you lovely readers have asked. Your questioning ends today. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

CW for Satanism, Michael burning a guy with his mind, talk of ending the world, sex and sexual situations.

Mad Love Masterlist

In hindsight, you should have been more prepared for this. Michael’s told you that this would be expected of you since that first weekend you spent with him when you were both filling out a contract for the terms of your then-forced marriage. Still, after so long, you had hoped that he had forgotten about this. Even a couple of weeks ago at Homecoming, when Michael bargained with you after you had finally pulled him away from the football game, you believed that it was just a vague threat.

Now, sitting in the back of a black SUV with Michael and nervously fiddling with the hem of your dress, you’re realizing that you should have been way more prepared for the possibility of having to attend a Cooperative meeting with Michael. You attended the gala/function with him, of course, but that was far different from an actual business meeting where, from what you can gather, Michael verbally eviscerates the rich people paying for his plans for the end of the world. Said rich people apparently just sit there and take it, which fills Michael with even greater joy. What you wouldn’t give for them to see Michael right now, rehearsing his talking points to you so that you can coach him based on your semester’s-worth of experience in one speech class.

The building that the car pulls up to is nondescript on the outside, but you’re sure that the inside tells a different story. Michael exits the car first before holding a red-gloved hand out to you to help you out of the car. You’re both wearing black with accents of red–a unified force. His suit and cloak are all black, with the red leather gloves providing his only pop of color. You’re wearing a black empire-waist dress that goes to your knees. On your neck sits a choker with a red jewel as the centerpiece. You both look rich and powerful. You don’t recognize yourself at all.

The assumption you had made about the inside of the building proves correct. Everything is sleek and black, and you feel like you’re on Starkiller Base from the Star Wars sequels. The receptionist looks up for a split second before immediately bowing her head in respect as you and Michael walk past. You really don’t think you’ll ever get used to that, the way that people fawn over Michael and, by extension, you.

You come to a set of doors, both just as dark and intimidating as the rest of the inner architecture of this building. Two men dressed in black guard either door, and you’re almost tempted to ask if they’re the actual Men In Black. You refrain from that question, but only because Michael nods to them that he’s ready to go in. Next time, then.

Once the large doors open for you and Michael to make a grand entrance, he drops your hand. You look up at him to see why he did so, and you’re completely thrown off when you do. He’s not looking at you, so you can’t question him silently, but that’s not what shakes you. No, what shakes you is the look on his face. Gone is the sweet man that you know and love, the man that was just listening intently as you suggested he take a pause instead of saying ‘um’. The man that stands before you is full of hate and fire and entitlement and evil. It takes your breath away, and you turn your gaze forwards once you realize that your Michael is not here right now.

A long table sits at the center of the room, each seat filled by someone in black robes and a chrome mask that covers their entire face. Anonymity is the name of the game here, it seems, except for you and Michael. It’s silent in here, everybody waiting for their lord and savior to speak first. Michael, at least, has the decency to pull your chair out for you and makes sure you’re seated before standing above the empty chair next to you. You’re grateful that you get to sit: even though the faces of those here are covered, you can feel how they’re all looking at you.

“Esteemed members of The Cooperative,” Michael begins. To your relief, the attention of The Cooperative members shifts to Michael. “I appreciate that you’ve taken the time out of your busy schedules to join me here today. Since you are the main benefactors of the Outposts that will provide shelter from the apocalypse, I find it only fair to provide you with more concrete updates as construction and fortification continues.”

He speaks with such an ease that it’s no wonder why people have fallen in line behind him so easily. He’s enigmatic and charming while also making it clear that he’s in charge here.

“Ms. Mead has placed updated information at each of your seats, which will hopefully answer all of your questions as to where your finances are going and where we are at in the timeline. Please, take your time and read.”

You look down at the paper in front of Michael, curious as to the intricacies of this plan. What you see is more horrifying than you could have ever imagined.

Fallout shelters are being constructed in multiple locations around the world, except they’re far more elaborate than the Cold War-era shelters that you had been imagining. No, these are less bunkers and more complexes that have simply been moved underground. From what you can see, the plan is that these will be funded both by those who sit here today, who get creative oversight regarding the construction as well as a guaranteed spot for them and their families, as well as a price tag of $100 million for anybody else that decides they want to survive the end of the world.

The other survivors will be those whose genetic material is ideal for carrying on the “survival” of the human species. From the looks of it, The Cooperative is sourcing this data from all of the DNA sites that people use to find out their ancestry. You think back to when you did one of those your senior year of high school for your science fair project. What hidden information was between the lines of the report that you had received? Did you have genetic markers that would have stood out, were you not Michael’s wife?

None of this matters, though, when you’re looking at how the world gets to this point in the first place. As it turns out, Michael’s planning of the apocalypse is much further than you thought it would be. You were under the assumption that he was still mulling over the different ways that one could bring about the end of the world, and that these were all just hypotheticals. This plan that sits in front of you shatters that. Instead, there in black and white, it lays out how and where nuclear bombs are being sourced, the potential locations that they would be dropped, who would be privy to the knowledge of what was going to happen, and a list of suggested dates for when the plan is launched.

Michael wants to end the world in the next year or two. All of his promises, of grad school and moving to a new city, making friends and getting another cat, plans and dreams and ideas that you’ve shared, are lies. This whole time, he’s known that there will be no future, at least not in the way that he’s led you to believe. You don’t know whether you should feel heartbroken, betrayed, or angry about this. Probably all of the above.

Though you want to confront him, to yell and fight back and try to convince him that this is a terrible idea, you know that this is not the time nor the place. So you remain silent through the rest of the meeting, keeping your eyes on the plans in front of you or staring at a random member of the Cooperative and trying to guess who is under the mask.

Finally, Michael concludes his elaboration of what was found in the papers you had read through and invites questions. It doesn’t surprise you at all that there’s voice modulators inside the masks, distorted voices asking various questions about the logistics of the apocalypse. After a moment of silence, and with the belief that everyone has asked their questions, Michael opens his mouth to dismiss the meeting. He’s interrupted before he can speak by someone sitting about five seats down from you.

“You bring your pet with you everywhere now, My Lord?” the words of this person seem to hang in the air, and you can almost hear the silent gasps that people make at the audacity.

Michael’s jaw clenches. “Say that again?”

“You seem to have found yourself distracted, is all that I mean to say. The past two times that you’ve bothered to grace us with your presence, you bring along,” he gestures vaguely in your direction, as if you’re just an afterthought.

Michael doesn’t even bother to speak to the man who just insulted you. Instead, he just smiles.

A moment later, the man is screaming as he’s engulfed in flames.

You’re the only one who has any sort of reaction to this, flinching at the sight of a man being burned alive. Everyone else stares down at the table, and you assume that this is not the first time that someone has been turned into barbecue at one of these meetings. Michael waves his hand and the flames go out, leaving the chrome mask sitting on top of a smoking pile of remains.

“Let me remind you, once again, that the only reason you are here is because of the gifts bestowed upon you by my father which led to you giving him your immortal souls. Satan owns you. Therefore, I own you. Those that dare to disobey me will end up like your colleague over there.” Michael juts his chin towards the pile of ash that sits in the chair where, mere minutes ago, a person sat.

Michael holds his hand to you, and you take it and stand up. Together, you turn and walk out of the conference room, where you’re sure everyone is erupting into gossip the moment the doors close behind you. You know that the only reason he’s holding your hand is to make a point, but you’re still glad that he is.

Once you’re back in the car, Michael’s hardened facade immediately melts. It’s a little jarring how quickly he can go from a man who will burn someone alive without a second thought to the man you see right now, shyly smiling as he asks, “So, how did I do?”

You blink, trying to think of something that’s not ‘what the fuck?’ “It was good! You were very captivating.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me burn that man. Not sorry to have burned him, and he certainly won’t be much of a loss, but I wish you hadn’t been there.”

“It’s…okay, Michael. He was being a jackass. I understand your reasoning behind it.”

Michael lets out a deep breath that he’s probably been holding since you walked into that building. His shoulders relax as he leans back into the leather seats. You don’t know if you should say anything to him about the plans for the end of the world. Is he going to be mad that you’re bringing it up? Was it all just for show to convince his investors that everything is going great? Finally, when you’re almost home, you break the ice.

“Michael?” you ask.

“Hmm?”

“I read through the plans.”

“Pretty thorough, huh?”

“Yeah.” You look over at him. “You want to blow up the world? In two years?”

He suddenly finds himself interested in something outside. “That’s been the timeline since I first took over The Cooperative.”

“So, like, is everything you’ve said about our future a lie?”

“No! Plans can change, and they most likely will change. For some reason, the richest people in the world feel the need to try and make even more money, and they’re saying that two years isn’t enough for them to do everything they want to do.” He rolls his eyes with a scoff.

“But…” But what? You can’t think of a compelling argument besides ‘I don’t want you to blow up the world’, but you have a feeling that’s not going to fly.

“I promise that you will not be left in the dark with these sorts of things. You’ll know if there’s any changes as to the dates we have set, okay? I would never hide this from you.”

That’s not what you’re concerned about, not really. It’s not like you’re going to start arguing with him about this, though. That would ruin everything you’ve been working on, your months of showing him the good parts of humanity and making him more and more a part of your world. You also don’t know how he would react if you revealed your own plan. Would this make him want to end the world even more?

You decide that it’s better to just wait until you have more time to think about what you’ve learned. With that, you nod and drop the conversation for now, leaning your head on his shoulder and getting lost in your thoughts of how this is your life now.

When you do finally get home, you’re planning on a hot shower and some loud music to try and remind you that you’re also a normal twenty-something and not just the Antichrist’s wife. Michael, to his credit, understands, and leaves you to blissful silence when you close the bedroom door.

Your hand goes to your neck and you unclasp the choker you’ve been wearing. Though you’d never wear something like this in your everyday life, it’s stunning, and you take great care in gently laying it on top of the dresser. Your shoes are next to go, though you’re far less careful with those. You fling them off of your feet without a care as to where they land in the room. Finally, you reach behind you to unzip your dress. This is where you encounter a problem.

In your haste to get into clothes that weren’t a dress and heels, you forgot about how this zipper is just a little bit lower than the zippers on your other dresses. No matter how you contort your arms or how you yank the fabric one way or another, you can’t get enough of a grip to actually unzip your dress. With a sigh, you open up the door and call for Michael.

He’s in front of you in a matter of seconds, and he smiles at the pout that’s surely on your face. “I can’t reach my zipper,” you say.

“And?” He’s teasing you, and you roll your eyes with a huff.

“Unzip me, please?”

Michael does as asked, smoothly unzipping your dress for you. His hand stutters when he goes to pull it away once he sees the lace that’s been hiding under your clothes. You hadn’t thought anything of the lacy blue bra that you had thrown on this morning, just grabbing whatever was on top of the clean laundry you still haven’t folded. He’s not even looking at anything particularly racy, just your back. Still, Michael slowly traces his fingers along the delicate pattern of the band of your bra.

“Thanks,” you whisper, turning your head to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s still looking down at the blue fabric that sits against your skin, making you shiver when his fingers occasionally drift off of your bra and onto your bare skin.

Michael awkwardly clears his throat, jerking his hand away from you and stepping back. “I should…I should go.”

“Michael,” you call, turning around and facing him.

You grab him by the clasps of the stupid cloak that he’s still wearing, pulling him towards you and meeting his lips with yours. He lets out a noise of surprise but doesn’t let it stop him for long before his hands are on your waist.

Maybe it’s the tension of the day, or how easily Michael was able to command a room full of the most powerful people in the world. Maybe it’s just months’ worth of sexual tension having reached a boiling point. Whatever the reason, you’ve found yourself kissing Michael, and you don’t plan on stopping any time soon. Michael, however, has other thoughts, and forces himself away.

“Y/n,” Michael says, looking at you seriously, “if we continue down this path, I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop myself.”

At this moment, you realize that you really don’t care about these arbitrary rules you’ve imposed on yourselves in case Satan might try to do something. The only thing stopping you from this…is you. And right now, you don’t want to stop yourself. “Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

He looks at you, startled. “What?”

“I want this. I want you, in every way that two people in love can have each other.” You grab his hands. “Michael, we don’t even know if something bad is actually going to happen. We’ve been operating this way based on a fear of what might happen. I don’t want to let him have a say in our lives anymore.”

You can tell that Michael agrees with you, but he’s still a little wary. “What about…our concerns?”

You throw your hands up in the air. “We’ll just be extra careful, I guess. I’m on birth control, and you can wear a condom or pull out.”

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”

You nod. “Are you?”

There’s not any hesitation before Michael’s nodding emphatically. “Yes.”

You don’t need to respond to him with words. Instead, you choose just to kiss him again. There’s more hunger behind it this time as Michael sucks at your bottom lip before tangling his tongue with yours. Your dress begins to slide off of your shoulders, and you hastily shrug it off to get it out of the way. You don’t need any distractions now, not when you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted for so long.

The risks don’t matter anymore, not to either of you. It’s not as if there’s some demon STD that could infect you (you hope). And, if worst comes to worst and you do end up getting pregnant, there’s plenty of options depending on what you both would decide on. But never again will you allow Satan to control any aspect of your life, especially one that is so intimate and meant for just you and Michael. And now that you’ve both voiced that, you couldn’t care less about the potential supernatural consequences.

Michael pulls away from you to allow you to step out of your dress, taking the opportunity to remove his cloak and to start unbuttoning his shirt. His hands freeze, though, when he finally sees your body. A low groan sounds from deep in his throat, and he slowly brings a hand to touch your hip. You feel self-conscious, but not because of the way that you look or anything. No, in fact, it’s the way that Michael looks at you that has you feeling self-conscious. He looks at you as if you’re clothed in gold, as if you’re a divine being that he worships with every fiber of his being. Nobody’s ever looked at you like this before. You hope nobody but Michael ever looks at you like this.

“I want to touch you–everywhere.” Michael sounds so overcome, and you can tell by the way that his eyes keep flicking from your bra to your panties to your face and back again that his mind is firing on all cylinders.

“You can,” you say with a laugh before leaning in to kiss Michael’s jaw. “Touch me wherever you want.”

“I’ll gladly take you up on that.”

You both stumble back towards the bed, Michael giving you a light push so that you fall back against the mattress. You giggle when you do and scramble up towards the pillows. Michael hovers over you to kiss down your neck, making his way to the swell of your breasts. His hand snakes behind you to unclasp your bra, but you push at his chest to stop him.

“What?” Michael asks. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all!” you assure him. “It’s just, uh, you’re wearing way too many clothes, and I’m not.”

Michael bites his lip and laughs before nodding. He sits up on his knees to quickly finish taking his shirt off, his pants quickly following. You’ve seen Michael without his shirt a couple times, but those were all quick occurrences. He changed his shirt before bed, or you accidentally ran into him after he had showered and was in only a towel. This, though, is so much more different than those other times. His lean physique hides an incredible amount of strength, though you’re not sure how much of that is due to his supernatural powers. You let a hand land on his shoulder before trailing it down to his pec.

“Sorry,” you say, “I’ve just always wanted to do that.”

Michael takes your hand and kisses the palm of it before moving back to your lips. You thread your fingers in his soft hair, the slight curls of its awkward length tangling under your grasp. Michael runs a hand up your abdomen, leaving goosebumps on your skin in his wake, before reaching up, undoing your bra, and practically ripping it off of your body.

Your breasts bounce from the sudden movement, and Michael moans at the sight. “Oh, holy fuck.”

It’s one of the most attractive sounds you’ve ever heard, and it sends a shock of heat straight to your core. He takes one in each hand, watching you to see what you like and what you don’t like, before rolling a nipple between his fingers. It’s your turn to moan now, and you arch your back into him at the faint shocks of pleasure his actions elicit.

“Is it wrong of me to say that I want to take so many pictures of you right now?” His collarbones are flushed with color, a sure sign that he’s starting to get worked up. “Like, I could stare at you all day. I want to commit this to memory, but memory’s not enough. I need photographic evidence or something to convince myself this isn’t a dream.”

“Let’s save that for like, the second or third time we do this.”

“Deal.” Michael’s fingers trail to your hips, resting on your panties. “Can I try something?”

You have a pretty good idea of what it is he wants to try, so you nod breathlessly. He hooks his fingers through your panties and helps you out of them. You can feel your cheeks burning, and you bite your lip at the sudden nerves that run through you.

“Are you okay with this?” Michael double-checks with you.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Michael’s hesitant at first, his fingers gently making their way up your thigh before he actually touches you. You gasp at the feeling when he brushes against your clit, and he looks up at you with wide, eager eyes. When you nod, he kisses the juncture where your hip meets your thigh before placing his lips against your clit.

“Oh!”

You throw an arm over your eyes as he goes down on you, the vulnerability almost too much for you to handle. You’re completely bare, spread out for the first time for this man that you love with your entire heart and soul who is currently eating you out like he’s starved while simultaneously managing to fuck you with his eyes as well. Who wouldn’t feel flustered in this situation?

Michael reaches a hand up to pull your arm away from your face. “Wanna see your pretty eyes,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice making your stomach clench.

You only get more flustered the longer that he’s down there, licking and sucking and managing to hit every sensitive spot you have. Feeling the pleasure begin to coil tighter and tighter in your stomach, you put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and push him away from you, breathlessly saying, “Stop, stop.”

His lips, covered in you, shine under the dim light. You want to kiss him so badly right now. “Are you alright?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “just…kinda want to cum when we’re actually having sex.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Michael says solemnly before leaning in to kiss you.

“That’s the plan,” you joke. He rolls his hips against yours, and you realize that he’s still wearing his underwear. “Oh, this just isn’t fair.”

“Sorry, let me level the playing field then.” Michael smirks and removes his own briefs. You lay back with your hands under your head and look at him in appreciation. He really is so beautiful, even his cock–something you didn’t know was possible until now. “See something you like?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

He shudders when you reach out and begin to slowly stroke him. He has to take your hand away, you assume for the same reason you told him to stop when he was eating you out. Instead, he kisses you once more.

“Gimme a second,” Michael says, forcing himself to pull away from you. He leans over to pull open the drawer of the bedside table and rummages around for a moment before coming up with a condom. Even though you’re right on the verge of finally getting to have sex with him, you can’t help but laugh.

“Is this secret stash from before we met, or were you keeping these just in case?” you tease.

Michael’s cheeks are red. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared!”

He’s quick to roll the condom on, making you a little curious as to who he’s done this with before. Those thoughts are pushed to the side why he kisses you, the head of his cock bumping against you. Finally, finally, Michael pushes himself into you, and you both moan. You wiggle your nose, feeling a little uncomfortable from the wonderful stretch, but that soon fades as Michael begins to thrust against you and you find yourself eagerly reciprocating.

He can’t stop kissing you, on a mission to cover every single inch of your skin that he can reach. Your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your shoulders, your breasts, your arms–he’s everywhere, all at once. Everything is you and Michael. The world could be on fire outside of your bedroom door, for all you cared. So long as you were with Michael, feeling his body on yours as the two of you moan and gasp and call out each other’s names, you would be happy to burn along with it.

“Fuck,” Michael moans breathlessly against your shoulder, “I love you so fucking much, I–I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you tell him, one hand in his hair while the other holds onto his free hand. Though he’s said your name so many times before now, the way that he says it this time, like he’s whispering a prayer, has your heart twisting so deliciously painfully that you fear it may burst inside of you.

You pull him in for another kiss, and your teeth knock against his from your movements. Michael laughs from on top of you, and you find yourself joining in with him as you sloppily meet his lips. How could you not laugh? You’re both giddy, drunk on the endorphins and the excitement and the sheer love that you have for one another.

“Why didn’t we d–do this sooner?” you question as Michael threads his hand between your bodies to make contact with your clit. Your body jolts at that, and your left leg holds Michael to you tighter.

“Because we’re idiots.”

“We really a–ahh–are.” You clench dangerously tight around him before falling off the edge.

Your veins flood with liquid fire, blood turning to electricity as your muscles feel like they’re contracting and relaxing at the same time. It’s intoxicating, even more so since you’ve been brought to orgasm by Michael inside of you. He continues to fuck you up until he’s just about cumming, pulling out as a precaution right before he releases. He collapses on top of you, the most comfortable weighted blanket you’ve ever had.

The room is silent except for the sounds of heavy breathing coming from both you and Michael as you try to catch your respective breaths. When you’re finally able to think straight, you glance down only to see Michael already looking up at you. His smile is so sweet and tender that, if you had any energy left, you’d kiss him again. Instead, you weakly hold your hand in the air towards Michael, who doesn’t seem to understand what you want and grabs it to hold.

“Wait, were you trying to give me a high five?” Michael asks incredulously once he notices your disappointment, making you laugh.

“Maybe.” He releases your hand only to grab your wrist and hold it up so that he can smack his hand against yours. You smile when he does so, kissing the back of his hand before holding it once again. “Thank you.”

“For the sex or the high five?”

You shrug. “Both, I guess.”

Michael runs a hand through your tangled, sweaty hair before kissing your collarbone. You wrap your arms around him tighter, enjoying this quiet moment. “I love you.”

“You mentioned that a few times.” Even though your eyes are closed, you can practically see Michael’s smirk when he scoffs.

“And I’ll say it a few more times. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you respond.

It’s funny how easily those words come now, when just a couple months ago you felt like you were going to panic when you finally admitted to Michael that you really, truly loved him. Now, it’s like second nature, telling Michael how much he means to you, and listening to him reciprocate those feelings.

You know that you should get up and clean yourself up, maybe even actually take a shower like you had originally been planning on. But laying here, nice and warm under Michael, feeling his heartbeat against yours and listening to his soft breaths, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You kiss the top of his head before giving in to the urge to relax, feeling like you’ve finally gotten something right in your life.

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be tagged!):

@thatonehumanbeing05 @michaellangdon @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @wroteclassicaly @michaellangdonstanaccount @mllxngdonswife @kitty4860 @we-did-it-joe @codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene @langdonwh0re @au-honey @superwarsofthrones @anojaisasleep @langdonsbitch @michaellangdonswhore @nsainmoonchild @langdonsjoyy @aftertheglitterfades @ferndolan

#SCREAMING CRYING #i love this oh my GOOOOD #totally worth the wait

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stuck-onapuzzle · 3 years ago

Text

Professor Turner

1868 words / not proofread / i put all blame on mia. / readers filler last name is Knight

“Now as i’ll remind you, this is not solely a course for English majors. These poets we are discussing were knowledgeable in science, music, politics, economics….”

As you walked down to one of the empty seats in this almost entirely empty lecture, Professor Turner made no verbal acknowledgment of you, but stared at you as you got your materials, a computer and a notebook, out of your bag.

He took a deep sigh as his eyes left yours, turning to pick up a book. The book was Walden, a book by Henry David Thoreau. A book you were expected to read. And so naturally, you hadn’t.

“Now, I’d love to hear your opinions on what Henry David Thoreau was intending this book to invoke in the reader.”

Naturally, with only about a dozen students willing to listen to Professor Turners pompous ramblings at 7 in the morning, it was only a matter of time before you had to answer his question. You just hoped you weren’t the first one.

However, as he turned his body towards you with an insufferable smirk on his face, you realized you weren’t that lucky.

“Ms. Knight, what do you think Mr. Thoreau was trying to show in this book?”

You let out a sigh as you sunk down into your chair.

“Well, Ms. Knight?” He asked, seemingly struggling to hold back a condescending smile as you kept your eyes on the floor, avoiding his gaze.

This didn’t last long as he walked over to you, putting his hand under your chin to force you to meet his eyes.

“Did you even read the book, Ms. Knight?” He took a pause before saying your name, almost disgusted by the way your name tasted in his mouth.

You gained some inexplicable confidence as you leaned back in your chair.

“Did anyone read the book?”

He had an amused look on his face as he left out a small chuckle.

“Well, class, did anyone read the book? By a show of hands.”

You felt your face turn red as everyone else raised their hand.

Professor Turner looked back at you before walking back to his desk, scribbling something on a post it note and slapped it on your desk.

“Meet me after class, Ms. Knight.”

You slightly grimaced at his action, this was the first time he ever asked you to stay after, but you didn’t know if you could bare hearing his arrogant attitude longer than you had to. Regret washed over you as you think about how close you were to skipping his class. Again.

As he continued his lecture, you paid more attention to your nails, picking at them out of nervousness.

As the lecture ended, he glanced over to you, almost as if you would disappear if he took his eyes off of you, and you wish he was right.

As the last student walked out of the lecture hall, Professor Turner let out a harsh sigh as he walked to your seat. He sat on the desk in front of you as he removed his jacket and placed it on the seat next to you.

“Now, i’m sure you can guess why I had to keep you here just a bit longer, correct?”

“Yes, Mr. Turner” You murmured as you kept your eyes trained on your lap.

“Don’t call me Mr. Turner again. This isn’t high school, you call me sir. Is that understood?”

“Yes” you murmured

“Yes, what?” He said, annoyance apparent in his tone.

“Yes, sir.”

He snickered at your reply as he left his place on your desk to stand next to you, towering over your frame.

“See? You’re good at following instructions aren’t you? I just don’t understand why you have to be so combative in class.”

You opened your mouth to reply but quickly closed it when he crouched down and put his hand on your cheek, forcing your gaze onto him.

“Does it make you feel good? Does it feel good to pretend, just for a minute, that you have any power here? Is that why you do it?”

You felt a deep blush wash over your face at his words, causing him to smirk. A stark reminder that this man is nothing but a pretentious professor. Once you left today, you could simply decide to avoid his class. To never see his arrogant, insufferable face again.

However, you lost your train of thought as he brushed his thumb across your lips as he leaned in slightly.

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself, Ms. Knight?” An unidentifiable tone in his voice.

Your voice was caught in your throat as your eyes shot back and forth between his lips and his eyes. Before you could process your own actions, you leaned in. Your lips brushed against his as he pulled away, letting out a loud laugh, cutting through the silent tension in the room.

He stood up and began slowly pacing as he posed his next question.

“Ms. Knight, how inappropriate. Wouldn’t it be a bit malapropos? To completely disregard any conventions of what’s a suitable relationship between us?”

“I- I didn’t mean to do that, I swear. I’m so sorry.”

At this, he simply looked at you, raising his eyebrow as if he expected something more.

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

He let out a small chuckle at this.

“Good girl” He said, presumably mocking you.

“Stop” You pathetically whispered out as you shut your eyes.

“Stop what, sweetheart? You’re the one who tried to kiss your professor, aren’t you?”

“Just stop.”

“Love, I’d truly like to hear what you think i’m doing. What is it you want me to stop doing?”

You opened your eyes again at this point, seeing he had left his initial position to once again tower over you.

“Just tell me what you want me to do sweetheart”

“Sir, just stop messing with me, please.”

“We’ll I’m sorry love, but I have no idea what you’re talking about here. How am I messing with you exactly?” He said, pretentious smirk in full affect as he rested his knee on your chair, between your legs, and brushing against your clothed core, almost making you regret wearing a skirt today. Almost.

Your hips uncontrollably grinded against the harsh fabric of his pants, causing a small, breathy moan to escape your lips. You immediately clasped your hand over your mouth as you let out muffled apologies as he wordlessly left your seat.

“Sir I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean to do that, I swear, I’m so sorry” You pathetically blurted out as he walked to the doors of the lecture hall.

Just as you thought he would leave, he simply locked the door. He locked each door before slowly walking back to your seat.

“Well, love, care to explain what that was? It was already a bit inappropriate for you to try to kiss your professor, but now you’re trying to get off on him? Grinding on his thigh? C’mon love, I thought you wanted to be a good girl for me.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I just-“

You were cut off by the sudden feeling of his lips on yours. His lips were a bit rough against yours though he kissed you softly.

You tried to keep your lips attached as he pulled away and reached his hand out for you to take.

He guided you over to his desk as he sat down in his chair.

“C’mere sweetheart” He said as leaned back in his chair and slightly separated his legs as he looked up at you expectedly. You didn’t move from the spot you were stood in, only a few inches from his chair.

He paused for a moment before grabbing your hands.

“Come on, don’t you want me to make you feel good? Don’t get all shy on me now love, I’m just trying to continue what we started.”

He slowly hooked his finger into the seam of your underwear before pulling them down and helping you pull them off.

He leaned back in his chair once again as he helped guide you onto a position where you could straddle his thigh. He positioned his hands on your hips as he helped you move against him. Each movement causing your legs to twitch on either side of his thighs.

As you started to move quicker on your own, a string of loud moans left your lips as he placed a harsh slap on your ass.

You let out a small whimper at this as he began to stroke your back.

“I know, love, you’re okay.”

You leaned into him and put your head in the crook of his neck as his hands traveled back down to your hips as he began guiding your movements. He placed a light kiss to your neck making you shiver as your movements became uneven. Your moans turned to pathetic whimpers as he began lightly bouncing his leg, the only noises audible in the lecture hall being your noises mixed with heavy breathing coming from you both.

He stops your movements for a moment and separates your hips from him as his hands move to your clit. Before you could fully comprehend the sudden change you came undone on his thigh causes him to let out a small chuckle at your shaking figure.

You take a moment to catch your breath as he strokes your back to calm you.

“Are you alright love?“ He asks, his now gruff voice breaking the silence.

Your attempts at an answer came out as a small, embarrassing squeak.

He helped guide you to stand on your weak legs as he began shakily undoing his belt.

You were taken out of the moment by a sudden knock on the door. Both of your heads shot up at the noise as your professor quickly fixed his clothes, ignoring the wet spot you left on his thigh, and ran to the door as you quickly ran to sit back in your seat, pretending not to notice the stranger at the door.

After about a minute of talking, your professor locked the door once more as he apologetically helped you fix your clothes.

“Who was that?”

He didn’t respond as he walked back to his desk and scribbled something onto a post-it note.

“I’m so sorry about that, I have a class starting soon.” He said before handing you the post-it. “Here’s my number if you ever want to maybe continue what we started.”

You could hardly respond to him as he gave you a small peck in the lips and began ushering you out of the lecture hall, murmuring small apologies along the way.

As he shut the door behind you, you took a deep breath before ripping up the sticky note and throwing it in the trash. After all, you swore this would be the last time you saw that professor.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt and regret you felt at your actions, you walked out of the building with your head held high.

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