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strawberryandbunny · 2 months ago

Text

MDI 18+

💋 NSFW content below: public risk, forced silence, dom/sub, fingering, dirty talk, size kink, overstimulation, possessive vibes, tension that’ll make you whimper

It’s past 11pm.

The campus library is quiet, dark except for a few reading lamps. You’re curled up on an old wooden bench between the tall bookshelves, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, legs tucked under you.

You’re trying to focus on your notes—but your mind is elsewhere.

On him.

On the way he looked at you in class today.

On that slight smirk when you dropped your pen and bent down to pick it up—how his gaze lingered just a little too long.

Then you feel it.

That presence behind you.

The hairs on your neck rise just as you hear the deep, low voice you know too well.

“I should report you, you know. This part of the library closes at ten.”

You spin around, eyes wide.

“Professor —! I– I didn’t know—”

He steps into the light. Black dress shirt rolled to his elbows. Slacks. Glasses. And that look—like he’s already undressing you with his eyes.

“Lying doesn’t suit you.”

He crouches in front of you. You swear your pulse skips.

“You came here hoping I’d find you. Didn’t you?”

You open your mouth to argue but he places a finger over your lips. “Shh. If you want to act like a brat, you’re going to learn how dangerous that can be.”

Suddenly, he’s behind you on the wooden bench. One arm around your waist, pulling you back into his lap. His other hand snakes under your skirt, spreading your thighs.

You squeak—but his lips brush your ear.

“Not. A. Sound.”

You nod, heart pounding, breath trembling.

He slips his fingers beneath your panties—already soaked.

“Tch. Filthy little girl. I barely touched you.”

His fingers slide inside—two at once—and your hips jerk. He’s relentless, curling them just right, thumb circling your clit while you bite your lip so hard it might bruise.

Your whimpers are barely audible, and that makes it worse—the silence amplifies every sensation. The wet sounds. The way your body bucks. The way he growls,

“Look at you. All this for me, in a library?”

You reach for his arm, nails digging in.

He chuckles darkly. “You want to come that badly, baby?”

You nod. Desperately.

“Then come. Right here. In my lap. Quietly.”

And when you do? You shatter. Body shaking, breath stuttering, eyes rolling back as you clamp your hand over your mouth and ride it out. His fingers never stop moving—not until you’re spent, slumped against him, weak and wrecked.

Because of him.

#aizen sosuke x reader #aizen smut #alternate universe #bleach #bleach aizen #bleach au #bleach smut #sosuke aizen #professor x #professor au

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strawberryandbunny · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! i lovedd your aizen smut ! do you think u’ll make a part 2?

♡ Warnings : age gap (college student x professor), explicit content (18+), heavy tension, possessive behavior, semi-public setting, morally grey dynamics, obsessive thoughts, slight degradation, power imbalance, praise kink, femreader, domprofessor.

♡ A/N : I didn't think anybody would ask for part two but, here's it is.

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Part Two

He doesn’t speak.

Not at first. Not while his lips are still coated with the remnants of me, not while he’s still kneeling like he worships the taste, the heat, the way I unravel for him.

When he finally stands, his movements are slow. Measured. Like a predator who knows the prey’s already fallen.

I’m still breathless, legs trembling, fingers clutching the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing anchoring me. He stands between my thighs now, those veined forearms caging me in on either side. His tie is loosened, shirt rumpled, hair still a mess from my grip—and God, he’s never looked more dangerously beautiful.

His gaze meets mine, dark and unreadable. “You taste,” he murmurs, voice husky and wrecked, “better than I imagined.”

I swallow hard. “You’ve imagined it?”

His lips curl into a crooked smile, slow and sinful. “More times than I should admit.”

His fingers trail up my thighs, slow and teasing, until he reaches the hem of my skirt and plays with the fabric like he’s debating round two. My body arches instinctively, silently begging. He notices. Of course he does.

But instead of diving back in, he leans closer, his mouth brushing against mine—but not kissing me. Not yet.

“I should stop,” he says, even as his hand slips behind me, gripping my lower back to pull me flush against him. I feel everything—how hard he is, how ready. “I should.”

“So why don’t you?” I whisper, daring.

His nose brushes mine. His breath is warm, scent dizzying. “Because you keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to ruin you.”

And then he kisses me.

Finally.

It’s not gentle. It’s desperate. Possessive. His hands cup my face, holding me still as his tongue claims every inch of my mouth, like he’s trying to memorize it, to make it his. I melt into him, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging him closer. I can feel his heart pounding through his chest—and mine answers in rhythm.

He pulls away just enough to speak against my lips. “Turn around.”

“What?”

He kisses my neck, teeth grazing skin. “You heard me.”

I hesitate for half a breath. Then I do.

I slide off the desk, knees wobbly, and brace myself with both hands against the surface. I hear the rustle of fabric—his belt, the zipper. Then the heat of him behind me. His hands grip my hips, rougher this time, like patience is no longer part of the game.

He leans down, voice low and sinful in my ear. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you want me.”

My breath hitches. “I want you.”

His lips brush my shoulder, then lower. “Again.”

“I want you,” I gasp, louder, trembling.

And then he’s inside me.

Deep.

Slow.

Deliberate.

I cry out, hands slipping slightly on the desk as he starts to move. His grip on my hips tightens, pulling me back into every thrust, every slide of his body against mine. He groans—low, broken—like he’s been waiting forever for this.

And it’s everything.

The drag of him. The stretch. The way his body fits against mine so perfectly. His hands roam from my waist to my chest, tugging my shirt open, kissing the back of my neck as he picks up the pace.

“You feel… exquisite,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against my ear, “as if your body was tailored for mine.”

My reply is a moan, loud and raw, echoing in the empty classroom.

And still, he doesn’t slow down.

The desk rattles with every thrust, the heat between us building—thick, electric. I clench around him, and he gasps, hips stuttering for half a second.

“Again,” he commands through clenched teeth, voice trembling just slightly. “Do that again.”

I do.

His hand slips around, fingers sliding between my legs, stroking in rhythm with every deep thrust. My back arches. My eyes roll.

I’m so close.

Too close.

“Come for me,” he whispers, breath hot against my ear. “Right here. Let them hear you.”

And I do.

My whole body tightens, pleasure detonating through me like a supernova. I cry out, stars bursting behind my eyes, and he follows—thrusts faltering as he groans my name, spilling deep inside me.

We stay like that for a moment.

Breathless.

Panting.

His forehead rests against my shoulder, my body trembling lightly, slowly, he pulls back, hands gentle now, helping me turn around. My legs are barely working, but he catches me, holds me like I’m fragile.

He looks at me—eyes soft now, and lips still kiss-swollen.

“I’ve wanted that since the first time you zoned out during my lectures,” he admits with a breathless laugh.

I blush, drunk on heat and adrenaline. “I-I didn't think you noticed that.”

“And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”

#aizen smut #aizen sosuke x reader #bleach aizen #sosuke aizen #aizen #bleach smut #bleach #bleach au #alternate universe

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strawberryandbunny · 4 months ago

Text

Words : 1,851k

♡ A/N : this is my first fanfic on this platform so please bear with me and sorry for any typos.

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I shouldn't be thinking about him like this. Not here, not now not during a physics lecture. But the way he looks when he leans over the desk his thick black framed glasses perched at the tip of his nose, that quiet confidence in his velvety voice when he explains an equation, the way his sleeves are always rolled up just enough to show the veins in his forearms—it drives me insane.

And somehow, in the blur between boredom and longing, my mind slips into places it shouldn’t.

In my daydream, he’s no longer standing by the whiteboard. He’s on his knees. Devoted. Starving.

He starts slow—teasing, like he knows he has all the time in the world. His hands grip my thighs like I'm something sacred, and his mouth... his mouth is sin incarnate. Each stroke of his tongue sends heat spiraling through me, and I can practically feel his breath against my skin, feel his groan reverberating where it matters most.

My fingers tangle in his thick chestnut hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again—and he doesn't stop. Not even when my thighs tremble around him. Not when I gasp his name like it’s the only one I remember.

By the time I reach the edge and fall over it, I imagine him ruined.

My hand is buried in his hair, still clinging to the remnants of pleasure. His lips are slick, glistening with my essence, the taste of me dripping slowly down his chin. His breathing is heavy, uneven, and his eyes—God, those eyes—glazed over, pupils blown wide, like he's high on the taste of me.

And the worst part?

I blink back to reality, still sitting in that hard plastic chair as he scribbles equations on the board. Completely unaware. Innocent. And I’m left burning, hand clenched around my pen, trying to look normal while my imagination begs me to go back.

I’m still recovering from the daydream when it happens.

He turns. Looks right at me.

Not a passing glance. Not a quick scan of the room. His eyes lock with mine like he felt it—the shift in the air, the way my thoughts wrapped around him just moments ago. My breath catches. His expression doesn’t change, not fully, but there’s something different in his gaze now. Something knowing.

Did I stare too long? Did he see it on my face? The heat? The guilt?

The hunger?

“Everything alright?” he asks, voice low and smooth, just for me.

I nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just... thinking.”

His brow lifts, just slightly. “About?”

God. If only he knew.

Or maybe he does.

His steps are quiet as he moves down the aisle between desks, but somehow, each one echoes in my chest. He stops just beside mine, leaning in to glance at my page, but he’s too close. That cologne—something clean and warm—hits me first. Then the sound of his voice, a soft murmur right beside my ear.

“You’ve been zoning out a lot today.”

His words are innocent. But the way he says them? Loaded.

I swallow. “Didn’t sleep much.”

He hums, low and thoughtful, still far too close. “You look flushed,” he says, almost like an afterthought.

I don't dare meet his eyes.

Instead, I focus on the paper in front of me, pretending like my pulse isn’t going wild, like I’m not reliving every second of that daydream—my essence dripping from his lips, the way he looked up at me, addicted.

He pulls away slowly, giving me one last glance before walking back to the front. And this time, when he speaks, he doesn’t look at the class.

He looks at me.

“Let’s try something a little more... stimulating.”

And I know I’m done for.

______________________________________

The bell rings, but I don’t move. I can’t.

My fingers twitch with the memory of his voice—low, teasing, almost like a challenge. I need to get out of here before I melt into the seat, but I can't tear my eyes away from him. Not when he’s standing there, flipping through the papers on his desk with that casual grace.

I’m the last one left.

He notices me immediately, his lips curving just slightly as he glances over his shoulder.

“Need help with something?” His tone is smooth, but there's an undercurrent I can't quite place. Like he knows.

I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. “Uh... yeah. A little confused on the last question.”

He stands, straightening his tie, and moves toward me. I feel the air shift with every step, his presence getting closer, overwhelming.

He stops just beside me, too close. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze burning through me even though I’m looking at my notebook, pretending to focus on the problem I don’t even care about anymore.

His hand slides onto the desk next to mine, fingertips brushing against the paper. It’s casual. It’s innocent.

But it's not.

“Let’s take a look.” He leans over, the scent of him drowning out everything else. His breath brushes the side of my neck as he points to the problem, and for a moment, I can’t even hear the words he’s saying. I’m too lost in the feel of him, in the thudding of my heart, in the way he’s so close I could reach out and touch him, feel his skin, his warmth.

And then, like he’s testing me, his hand moves slightly closer. Just enough to make my breath catch.

“I think you missed a step,” he says softly, but his voice drops, something darker lurking beneath the surface. “It’s okay. I’ll show you.”

His fingers brush over mine, just a touch, but it sends a jolt straight through me. I can’t stop the shiver that runs down my spine.

He notices.

His eyes flicker to mine, the teasing smile playing on his lips, but this time, there’s no hiding what’s there. The desire. The tension.

“Maybe we should take a break,” he murmurs,his hand running through his slicked-back hair leaving it disheveled, leaning in even closer, his lips just inches from my ear. “I think you’ve worked hard enough today.”

I don’t trust myself to speak. My lips part, but no sound comes out. My body is on fire, and every instinct screams to pull him closer, to give in to the heat, to the chemistry sizzling between us.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

_____________________________________

I don’t even remember how I got here. One second I was asking about math... the next, I was gasping, spine arched, seated right on the edge of his desk—legs parted, skirt pushed up, breath hitched.

And he?

He was on his knees, right where I imagined him. Right where I needed him, his eyes no longer obscured by his glasses they were narrowed focused, but pooled with lust.

His hands gripped my thighs like they were made to fit in his palms, thumbs digging into soft skin as he pulled me closer to the edge. My legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, then locked behind his neck, my thighs clenching around him when his tongue finally met me—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every taste, every reaction.

I was soaked. And he loved it.

The sound—his soft groan, half-muffled against me—sent heat flooding through me. His lips were wet, slick with my desire, and every movement of his tongue made me tremble harder. My head tilted back, one hand gripping the edge of the desk, the other tangled deep in his thick chestnut hair.

I tugged.

Hard.

And he moaned in response, like he wanted the roughness. Like he wanted me to ruin him.

“God—” I breathed out, barely a whisper, eyes fluttering shut as he lapped at me, devouring like a man starved. “You’re... you’re so good at this...”

His pace didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. Grew more intense. More possessive.

My thighs trembled again, instinctively clenching tighter around his head as another wave hit me, my fingers fisting his hair as if I could pull him even closer. My hips rolled against his mouth—helpless, needy—chasing every flick of his tongue, every sinful glide.

When I came, it was like falling.

My whole body tensed, mouth falling open in a silent cry, and I felt it. All of it. The heat. The release. The satisfaction. And the mess—my essence dripping down onto his lips, his chin, his tongue.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept going, riding out every aftershock, licking me clean like I was something divine.

And when I finally opened my eyes, breathless and dazed, I saw him looking up at me—mouth wet, eyes narrowed as he looks at me with a dark desire almost possessive, lips parted like he wanted more.

Like he wasn’t done

#bleach smut #sosuke aizen #bleach au #bleach aizen #aizen sosuke x reader #aizen x reader #aizen smut #smut #alternate universe

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