#ASK YOUR TEACHERS QUESTIONS IN THEIR OFFICE HOURS

[amynchan]

Ask people questions when they're around to answer them.

[dailypokemoncrochet]

I get irrationally angry when people ask me where did I get my patterns from and can I link them my resources

As unbelievable as it may be that I freehand crochet literally every single Pokemon, don't you think it would be more unbelievable if I somehow had found patterns for more than 539 unique pokemon?? Like for at least 20 of these I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who's made that specific Pokemon so far! What the hell kind of magic you think I'm using to successfully find a pattern for all of these??

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.” 

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention — yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day. 

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass. 

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg. 

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you. 

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy,  “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt.  “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.” 

☆ TOJI 

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further. 

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing  your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you. 

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy. 

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching. 

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it. 

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?” 

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?” 

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?” 

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto. 

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear. 

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun —  down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace. 

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy. 

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever. 

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him. 

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it. 

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS

[unequivocallyreid]

Do You Get It Yet?

hi guys!! this is one day late, but i literally fell asleep trying to proof read last night, so… you win some you lose some.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid is your professor and you really, really need help. If only he wasn’t so distracting.

warnings: smut, little bit of fluff, professor/student relationship, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives, age gap (both parties of age), breeding kink, choking, and some light degradation

this is a fun one guys! let me know what you think!

You swear you aren’t stupid. Really, honestly you aren’t. You’ve done well in school your whole life, not always outstanding, but you’ve always done well.

Right now however, you feel completely dumb. You’re in you third year of university, and up to this point, you’ve done good. Your classes are challenging but rewarding, and you have a wonderful group of people in your life. You have a cat and an apartment to yourself. You have wonderful friends, Lena and Eden, who’ve been with you since your freshman year and who you loved like sisters. Everything in your life was going right, except for your stupid, stupid criminal psychology class.

You should love it. You’ve taken classes like it before and they really weren’t a problem for you, but for whatever reason, you can’t wrap your head around the subject matter at all. Everything you learn seems to morph together and you can’t get it to sort itself out. Your teacher, Dr. Reid, is incredible. He is a genuine genius, member of the BAU (your dream job), and to top it off, he is incredibly attractive. Not just to you either! Half the class is auditing, which probably contributes to your troubles. It’s hard to focus when everyone around you is constantly whispering about how fucking hot the teacher is.

You try to avoid it. You sit at the front of the room, not the first row, but still front and center. Even so, right behind you are two or three girls who will not stop talking about him. Sure, they’re saying what you’re thinking, but good god does it get annoying. You’ve tried pointed looks, a few aggressive hair flips and humphs, and even a few well timed shushings, but they will not let up. You’d move seats but the class is full and everyone has seemed to have already found a place.

So, really, your lack of understanding was not only on you. Dr. Reid us distractingly hot, the girls behind you will not shut up, and the subject matter is just plain tricky. All of this leads you to spend a big chunk of your free time in your professors office hours, which always seem to be full.

You get it. Girls, and some boys, show up looking their best and asking all sorts of questions, and honestly if you were in a different position you’d probably do the same thing. But, you aren’t, and you really need help. You go to his room completely disheveled with a notebook full of questions that for the most part stayed unanswered. You’re lucky to get five minutes of his undivided attention. Again, you get it, those minutes are the highlights of you week, but, your grade is starting to slip.

Finally, it gets to be too much, and you find yourself spending nearly the whole class building up the courage to ask to speak with him privately. Right when he concludes his lecture you spring up out of your seat and go straight to him, surely annoying some of your other classmates.

“Dr. Reid?”

He looks up from his desk, “Hi! Ms.?”

“Y/n. Or Y/l/n, I guess. I was hoping to talk to you privately if you had time?”

“Oh! Um, sure, of course. Let me just wrap up here. You can wait in the seats.”

This has already gone better than you thought it would. Half of you expected the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be gibberish.

“Thank you so much.”

You hurry off to take a seat and wait, and wait, and wait. Around five other people stay around to try and speak with him, and while you catch him anxiously glancing over at you, each conversation still seems to stretch on and on. Finally, after close to 15 minutes, the final student leaves and it’s just you and Dr. Reid left in the room.

He looks over at you and motions for you to join him at his desk, “I’m so sorry that took so long. People tend to have a lot of questions after my lectures.”

You take a seat in front of him, “It’s no worries. That was actually part of what I wanted to speak to you about.”

You pause, wondering how you should word what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to go on, but he doesn’t seem impatient.

“I’ve come to all your office hours, and it helps, I’m just still struggling and I, uh, I just feel like it’s not enough time to get my questions answered, I guess?”

You’re looking at anything but him at this point, “I’m sorry I’m just kinda out of my element. I love this subject and normally it clicks for me, but it’s just won’t. I have a notebook full of questions and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure anything out. Sorry, I think I’m just rambling at this point.”

“No, don’t apologize, I understand. This class is challenging, and a lot of the subject matter is hard to research.”

He stops to laugh, “My office hours do tend to be pretty full. I’m, well to be honest I’m not sure why. A lot of the questions people have tend to be things I explained in my lectures.”

Without thinking, you cut him off, “I think people just want to be around you.”

He looks surprised at your words, and you are as well. You didn’t mean to say that at all.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It’s just with a teacher that looks like you, god, no. I mean with a teacher like you-“

Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, “You know what, I think I can figure this out on my own! I’m sorry for-“

He stops you before you can finish, “Y/n, I’ve taught this class before. Half the people are auditing. I’ve gathered what that means.”

He cracks a smile at that and you feel your heart flutter.

“I meant I’m not sure why people would waste their time trying to, uh, impress me at office hours. They’re meant for students like you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do on that front. My hours are open to anyone.”

Your shoulders deflate a bit at that, worrying you’ve wasted your time and his for nothing. He doesn’t let you stay like that for long though.

“I want to help you though. Truly. I know reaching out for help is hard and I’m glad you did.”

You look up at him then, “I can set aside some time for you once a week if you’re comfortable? We can review everything you’re not sure on until you’re up to speed.”

You were not expecting that. You thought he’d look over your questions and give you some articles and journals to review at best.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t. I’m offering, Y/n.”

“Then I think yes, I’d like that a lot.”

“Great! Email me some times that work for you and we’ll get started.”

~

This is all, admittedly, a bit above your pay grade.

Despite your best efforts, you are not a chill girl. You’re not very cool. There’s nothing wrong with that usually! You’re shy, but still manage to talk people’s ear off. It’s normally a non-issue: that’s just how you are. Today however, you are meeting with Dr. Reid and you are so not chill about it.

You had his class yesterday, and while you feel better knowing you’ll finally have help, you couldn’t focus on anything but today, so you retained nothing. All you can think about is saying something stupid or off putting and having him start to despise you.

You know you shouldn’t worry this much. He’s a professional, you’re trying to be, it should all go smoothly. They’re just the issue of the colony of butterflies who have taken up residence in your stomach. You’re nervous, so nervous, and you are not the type to get this crazy over some guy. Yes, Dr. Reid is probably the hottest person you’ve ever met, but he’s still human! You think… the fact that he’s some sort of super genius with multiple (multiple!) phds does not help to calm you.

Your entire walk to Dr. Reid’s office is spent worrying over all of this. In fact, you’re so caught in your head you find yourself barreling into someone’s back as you walk through the door of the psychology department.

You rush to squeak out an apology while picking up your notebook, but are stopped short when you look up. It’s Dr. Reid. Of course it’s Dr. Reid. You seem unable to be in the same vicinity of him without making a fool of yourself, so why would today be any different. You’d hoped to be able to manage yourself for the better part of an hour, but your professors unbelievably solid back has literally knocked you on your ass.

You do notice a ghost of a smile on his face when you look up, and you’d like to think he’s admiring you clumsiness, but it’s not likely.

“Hi,” you manage to say after a near excruciatingly long silence.

“I’m really sorry, I clearly wasn’t looking at where I was walking.”

He laughs a bit, “It’s no problem honestly. You were the one knocked off your feet, so I really can’t be upset aside from the fact you may have hurt yourself.”

This makes you breath hitch a bit. Maybe you are incredibly starved for attention from the male gender, but the slight affection of his words made you blush.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

If you were any more articulate you’d be a public speaker, but at least you always seem to make the man in front of you laugh.

“I was on my way to my office to meet with you, but since I already have, you can walk with me.”

You nod, pushing yourself off the ground, then blush again when you realize you had this entire conversation on the ground.

The walk is silent, and you’re sure it’s more uncomfortable for you than it is for him. Any question you had has completely exited your mind, and all you can think about is how good he looks in a suit, and how much staring you can reasonably get away with.

Your first session is sweet. You manage to hold it together in Dr. Reid’s presence. He is incredibly helpful one on one, and you feel more confident about the class than you have in weeks. Before you finish, he asks if you’d like to meet again.

“Yeah, if that’s alright. This helped so much, but I think I still probably need to do some more catch up work.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Y/n, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering something, before going on.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you my cell. I want you to be able to reach me if you need to reschedule, especially if we continue meeting, and it’s a bit easier than email.”

You’re a bit stunned but manage to reply, “Of course! But, um, is that allowed? I don’t want to over step.”

He looks away from you for a moment before replying, “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe we just don’t tell anyone?”

You have to bite back a grin, but you nod nonetheless and exchange numbers.

Although you know you shouldn’t be, you’re giddy the entire walk home.

~

So far, you’ve met with Dr. Reid three times and haven’t had to use his number once. Not that you’d been looking for an opportunity to though! It just hasn’t come up at all until today.

It’s been raining all morning, which normally you wouldn’t mind, but you’re slightly under the weather and the thought of walking to campus and risking getting more sick doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Though it’s not normally an issue, moments like this make you really wish you had a car.

You’ve asked everyone you knew for a ride, but they were all busy.

Currently, you were on the phone with Lena, listening as she tries to calm you down.

“He gave you his number, Y/n. Just text him and say you’re sick and can’t make it.”

“It’s the day of though! I don’t want to come off as unprofessional.”

“Babe, again, you have his number. Your relationship isn’t exactly the most profesh in the first place.”

“It’s not like that, Lena.”

“Just text him. Over explain everything like you know you want to. He’ll probably think it’s cute, maybe he’ll even offer to come take care of you.”

You can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but, still, you rush to defend him.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say, babe. I gotta go, but text him. It’ll be fine.”

You say your goodbyes, and deep down you know she’s right. About texting him, not the shy sort of seduction act she thinks you have.

After contemplating for a few more minutes, you type out your message and hit send.

You: Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Y/n from your criminal psych class. I know we’re supposed to meet today, but I’m feeling like I have a bit of a cold coming on and don’t want to risk walking in the rain.

You: I’m sorry it’s late notice, if I could get there I would, scout’s honor.

You were never in girl scouts. You don’t actually know why you said that at all, but it’s too late to take it back now.

As much as you try not to, you watch your phone screen, waiting for a response.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. You see a typing bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, before finally two messages come through.

Dr. Reid: I completely understand. Don’t worry.

Dr. Reid: I could come to you? If you’re comfortable.

When you read that, you feel your stomach drop to your ass. You decidedly not expect him to offer anything like that. A few things fly through your mind, but mainly that Lena may have been right, and having your professor come to your apartment is, at least, frowned up by admin. Still, the image of him in front of you, in your home, with your cat, is too much to resist.

With shaking fingers, you text him back.

You: That would be wonderful if you’re sure you’re okay with it.

You: Friendly warning, I have a very affectionate cat.

Dr. Reid: Good to know. Is 4 still alright?

You shoot him back a quick yes and your address, and then get to cleaning every square inch of your apartment.

~

Dr. Reid is an angel on Earth.

When you hear a knock at your door, you have to stop before answering to regulate your breathing. When you finally do, you see your professor in front of you in a cardigan (a fucking cardigan) and togo cup of tea that he immediately hands to you.

It’s all like a hopeless romantics wet dream. Hot professor, in the rain, at your house, who clearly cares about you in some way? It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You step aside to let him in and move to your couch, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

He stands for a moment before sitting at the opposite end and saying through a laugh,“The tea or coming over?”

“Both, I guess? I just feel bad that Ive take up so much of your time. I feel like a bit of an inconvenience.”

“Y/n, please stop worrying so much over this. I want to help you learn, it’s not an inconvenience or a both or unnecessary.”

You really look at him then, trying to read whether or not he’s being genuinely. He just seems too good to be true, like he’s a fiction character made just for you. Well, not just for you, but in your fantasies that’s how you’ll think about it.

The next couple hours are spent reviewing material you are sure he taught weeks ago and stealing glancing at his mouth when you are sure he is not looking. Your kitty makes a few appearances too, and seems to have formed an instant attachment to the doctor. You are not as sly with your staring as you’d like to think, and get caught a few too many times. Honestly, you are trying desperately not to think about anything but academia, but he makes it so unbelievably hard. Not to put the blame on him for your insatiability, but jesus fuck. Intelligence has always been incredibly sexy to you, and it oozes from him

Despite the distraction, you’ve been doing good in terms of building your understanding. Now however, you are on the verge of tears, chocking down a knot in your throat as you try to make sense of anything coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth. This has to be the third time he’d tried to explain it to you, and while this is the entire point of these meetings, you feel like a failure.

The doctor is lost in his own world, trying desperately to explain the concept in a digestible way, so he doesn’t notice your state. That is, until you sniffle, just slightly, and immediately avert your gaze.

He cuts himself off, “Y/n? Are, are you okay? What’s wrong.”

It’s too much, so too much. What kind of dick asks something like that, with that much care in his voice. You can’t help the tears starting to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t understand it.”

He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and says, “Y/n, it’s okay-“

“No. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot. No, not fucking, I didn’t mean to say fuck in front of you. God this is terrible.”

You’re fully crying at this point, and you can’t bear to look at Dr. Reid.

He stays silent for a moment, before you feel movement on the couch and look up to see he is much closer to you.

“You’re incredibly intelligent, Y/n. I, I would never judge you for needing help.”

You bury your face in your palms, and, very eloquently, try to speak through them.

“Sir, you really don’t need to say that. I know I should have been able to grasp this weeks ago, all of this.”

“Spencer.”

You look up, “What?”

“My name is Spencer. You don’t have to call me sir or Dr. Reid. I’d like for you to call me Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer then. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I really don’t know why I thought any of this would help, clearly there’s something seriously wrong with-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your jaw, guiding you to look up. Dr. Reid’s hand. Spencer’s hand, and it’s gentle and he’s staring at you, and you feel like your skin is on fire underneath his palm.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n. You’re one of the most capable, intelligent people I’ve ever met. I’m breaking nearly 20 different codes of contact by being here, but I can’t help it.”

You feel all your words caught in your throat, and all you can fucking think about is his hand and his eyes and his lips. You don’t know what else to do, so, in an act of unusual bravery, you push forward and press your lips to his.

The response is immediate. All thoughts in your head are gone and replaced by a mantra of Spencer’s name. You feel his hands move to the nape of your neck, holding you to him, and his lips pressing yours open so he can glide his tongue over yours. You’re breathless and ruined, and when he pulls back you’re too struck by him to speak.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before”

Your forehead is pressed to his and you breath out, “Show me.”

The hand on you tightens its grip, but the man before you pulls back a bit, and it becomes your only point of contact.

“I, I can’t. I’m your teacher, I’m nearly 20 years older than you. I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”

“I kissed you. I want you, this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”

“It’s wrong, Y/n.”

“I don’t care. I want you, Spencer.”

Hearing you say his name must break his resolve, because in a moment his lips find yours again, and he’s pulling you into his lap.

To recap, you’re in your home, on your couch, straddling the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and his lips are trailing down your neck and over your clavicle. You put your arms around his neck, threading your hands through his hair and experimentally rolling your hips against his.

His hands grab your hips, stilling your movement, and breaks from his assault on your neck to say, “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that, Y/n. I need to know what you want.”

“I want all of it, doctor.”

The honorific must do something for him, because he growls low in his throat before once again connecting with your lips. The same hands that just stilled your movement now guide your hips to press into him harder. You feel his length beneath you and moan into his mouth.

You’d fantasized about this for months, but now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel him every where, and he knows exactly what to do and whisper in your ear to drive you fucking crazy.

You move your hands from his hair and break from his lips to pull your shirt off. You make eye contact with him and then reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, leaving that part of yourself entirely exposed to him.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

The expletive takes you by surprise for a moment, but you snap out of it quickly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your chest. He moves quickly from that point, cupping your breast in his hand and toying with your nipple. Your lips find his again, and you feel him move to flip you, but you stop him before he can.

“Bedroom, Spencer. Please.”

He nods and you climb from his lap. On your way to the room, he discards his shirt. You can’t help but ogle his frame. He’s slender and sinewy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The angles and curves of his frame fit

together to create the perfect portrait of a man. He has scars littered over his arms and torso, but they don’t phase you.

You’re under him on the bed now, your core raising to meet his desperately.

“You’re so beautiful. So beautiful, I’m so lucky.”

His words cause a blush to form on your cheeks, which you can barely focus on as his hands are in the process of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked, huh?”

You whine as his fingers make contact with where you need him most.

“Is this all for me, Y/n? Who’s making you this wet?”

“You, sir, only you.”

“Jesus, baby.”

If someone had asked hours ago you what you thought your professor would be like in bed, this was the last thing you would’ve said. Not that anyone would ask… but still. He’s nerdy and adorable, and while his looks are literally to die for, he doesn’t scream ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out’.

His fingers pick up their pace on your clit as you find yourself trying to undo his belt. You’re desperate to see him as bare as you are. He stops to help you get his pants down, and when you see him in his full glory you feel a little faint.

“You’re so big.”

He lets a little whine slip through, “Yeah? Biggest you’ve had?”

You blush a little at his tone. As much as you’re trying to fake it, you don’t have as much experience in this field as one might expect for a girl your age.

“I’ve only been with one other person, so yeah.”

Your candor is decidedly not sexy, and you really have no clue why you would say that right now. The man above you does not seem deterred though, if anything it spurs him on.

“Fuck, Y/n. Didn’t know you were so innocent.”

You blush again, but reach to grab him, trying to prove how good you can be. He’s heavy in your hand, and part of you worries how he’ll fit. You know you’re programmed to accommodate, but the thought is daunting.

He must sense your concern when he says, “Don’t worry, love. Gonna stretch out this pussy for me.”

With that, his fingers resume their previous task, and he slowly moves down to trace your entrance with his middle finger. The sensation has you spinning, and let breathless moans leave your body he slowly starts to open you up. His fingers are long and precise in their movements. Every time he thrusts into you, they graze a spot that sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, puppy. Letting your professor fuck you with his fingers.”

You can barely breathe, and your climax comes closer with every passing second. When his thumb moves to press over your clit and his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, you’re done for.

“Good girl, Y/n. Coming so pretty on my hand.”

Your orgasm is stupefying, and all you can think or say is Spencer’s name. You grab at him, desperate to find something to ground you, and you hear him moan as your nails dig into his back. He doesn’t stop for a moment, continuing to press into you and riding you through your high.

Once you come down, though you can still feel your legs shaking, you want more. You want all of him. You take him in your hand again, pumping up and down his shaft at a lazy pace.

“Spencer, I need you to fuck me.”

He laughs, his hand still on your core, “Ask nicely, Y/n. You come on my fingers and all of a sudden your manners disappear? You really are desperate for me, huh?

You didn’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me, I need it.”

“Good girl,” he takes your wrist and leads your hand to your mouth. “Spit.”

You aren’t exactly sure what he’s doing. You think he might be teasing you more, letting you work him over until you beg, but he answers all your questions quickly.

He guide your hand back to grab him, helping you jerk him off before he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance.

In his first Dr. Reid like moment in the last hour he stops and asks, “Fuck do you have a condom? I obviously didn’t think we’d do this, so I don’t have anything on me.”

You’re panting with anticipation at this point, but still manage to get out, “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you.”

His eyes go soft for a moment, before he continues his previous mission. He lines up again with you, before teasing your slit with the head of his cock. If you didn’t want him so bad, you could’ve come like this, but you are desperate. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the point, and he does.

“I could play with that pussy all day if you’d let me, Y/n.”

You want to protest, and tell him to get on with it, but you don’t have to. You feel his tip

slowly pushing into you as he lets out a groan.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He’s slow and careful, and you can’t remember sex ever feeling this good. You know he isn’t all the way in, but you already feel so full. When he does reach the hilt, you let out a low moan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you, filling you in a way that is unbelievably good. He stays still for a moment before slowly pulling back and thrusting into you.

You can tell he’s being gentle, but hard enough and fast enough to have your legs start shaking more heavily again. You already feel a pit in your stomach, and you know you’re going to come, for a second time, embarrassingly fast.

“Fuck yes. So good for me, Y/n.”

The way your name sounds in his mouth drives you crazy. The only thing you can think about is how badly you want this moment to go on forever. Everything about him is perfect. Even now, while fucking your brains out (literally, you could make yourself say a word even if you wanted to), he’s cupping your head in his hand and telling you how beautiful you are.

Now that you’re more accustomed to the size of him, he takes your thigh, pushing it up to your chest, and starts too fuck into you faster and harder. His pelvis rubs over your clit with every thrust, driving you crazy. Your hands are in his hair and down his back, grabbing and clawing at him.

“You love taking this cock, huh baby? Love how deep it is in you. Can’t even talk you’re so fucked out.”

His words go straight to your core, but you know what you need to come again. You guide his hand up near your sternum and manage to cry out a few words.

“Please, need it. Need you.”

He takes your request to heart and moves his hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. You feel yourself get light headed in the most incredible way. Tears are forming in your eyes. The feeling is so intense.

“So perfect for me. Gonna fuck you dumb, puppy.”

You whine at the nickname, you didn’t even know you were into that.

“You’re just sucking me in, Y/n. Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

You’re close, and you can feel the pit in your stomach start to spread and take over. Spencer’s hand on your throat tightens slightly, and it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming on him.

“Coming. Fuck, Spence you’re making me come.”

“That’s right. Come all over this cock. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your vision is going white at the edges and you feel like your whole body is shaking.

“Fuck, gonna come just watching you. Gotta pull out, baby.”

You grab him before he can, “No! Want it inside me.”

He groans above you and you feel his hips stutter.

“Fucking Jesus. Want me to fill you? Make this pussy mine.”

You nod, the tears now falling down the sides of your face.

“Gonna come, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna come in your perfect fucking pussy.”

You can feel when he does. His dick is pulsing in you, filling you completely, just like he said he would.

When he comes down, he pushes his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. For a while, he just lays there, kissing you.

“Gonna pull out now. Gotta clean you up.”

You whine, but nod regardless. You feel empty at the loss of him, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you feel a warm towel wipe around your centre.

“You gotta go pee, Y/n. Don’t want to develop a UTI.”

Five minutes ago this man was coming inside of you, and now he’s back to being the man who came to your house in the rain with tea. You do know he’s right though, so you pull yourself out of your bed on shaking legs and make your way to your bathroom.

When you come back in, you find Spencer with his pants back on. Your heart breaks a little.

In a small voice you ask, “Are you leaving?”

He looks up at you then, “Do you want me to stay?”

You don’t know why you wouldn’t.

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”

You can feel tears welling up again, but these are different from before; he notices immediately.

“Baby, baby don’t worry. I don’t want to go, I just didn’t want to over step.”

You laugh a little at that, wiping your eyes, “I think we’ve gotten over all the steps, Spencer. I, I want - Just please stay.”

He nods and moves to take off his pants before sliding into place next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and you feel a tingle in the spots where he touches you.

“I don’t want to have this be a one time thing,” you blurt out.

You feel him hold you a little tighter then.

“I was never planning that, Y/n. Now, sleep. We can talk about how much I’ve come to adore you tomorrow.”

END!! i hope you all love it!

tag list! (leave me comment if you want to join and i’ll add you): @sabage101

[angelsrcute]

dr ratio with a pathetic yandere sub reader only to find out that dr ratio is more obsessed than them and proceeded to fuck them to overstimulation PLSSS

PATHETIC BOY ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ genre — smut ! ◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ parings — Dr ratio w M!reader ◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ warnings — teacher x student relationship, yandere stuff, praising, overstimulation, biting.

You thought he never noticed, Clicking pictures of him when he's not looking, how can you not? He's such a pretty guy. It's not like you don't have pictures of him on your wall, a whole diary dedicated to him.

Sometimes people would go missing if they try to flirt with Dr ratio, definitely not your doing. Ah, you forgot to clean that body..Those little glances you'd give him when he was teaching the class, fantasising how good he'd feel, fucking you, filthy little ideas that gave you a boner. You'd excuse yourself to the restroom to jerk off.

Dr Ratio apparently had a thing for you too, unknown to you! But one day when he went to your dorm, to give you back your textbook you accidentally forgot. He was surprised, only a little, seeing pictures of him on your wall.

Of course he wasn't an absolute dumbass, he knew about what you felt towards him. His lips curled into a grin, he sat down on your bed, looking through the diary.

Someone definitely deserved a punishment, the ideas were pure filth!

He waited till you came back, when you did, you gasped at the sight of him. What was he doing in your room, shit, you're fucked–

“Such a naughty student you are, strip. m’ gonna teach you a lesson.” He says patting the bed.

And that's how it came to this, Him thrusting into your hole as you grip the sheets, crying out when his dick hits your prostate. It's been hours! His nails digging into your waist, his dick cumming into you.

He spanks your ass when you don't answer his question, you can't even think straight!“I believe I asked a question, didn't I? Have I fucked you so dumb that you can't even reply?”

You're shooting blanks at this point, you want him to stop but you don't want him to stop, it just feels so good! “Please..hah..I can't anymore–” You breathe out between gasps.

“Be a good boy, you can cum for me again right?” He says kissing your neck, sucking lightly on the skin. His hands grip onto your hair as he kisses you, slipping his tongue in, his pace never faltering, gosh, how much energy does this man have?

With another orgasm he pulls out, panting heavily, catching his breaths, cheeks flushed.

“Don't you have a test tomorrow? Come to the office after the class, I'll give you good grades and personal tutoring, in exchange I expect you to sit pretty under the desk as you, suck me off. Got it?” He says while carrying you to the bathroom for a shower.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

--------------------------

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

-------------------------

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

-----------------------------

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

-------------------------

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[munsonluhvr]

ohhhh and i honestly need more professor!eddie x student!reader

imagine he’s her professor. he’s like 39 and she’s 19. and just a hot secret affair ahhh.. where she’s the one to intend this relationship first like seducing him and all and getting fucked on the desk all the time!! he sometimes has to hold her mouth shut because she’s so loud!!

SCHOOL GIRL CRUSH

a/n: thank u so much for another amazing request. I hope u like it! I loved writing this sm, im tempted to write a part two in the future.

synopsis: professor!eddie munson x student!reader. unable to resist your professor munson, you begin seducing him, making every visit to his office hours productive. lucky for you, all your efforts pay off in the end. word count - 4.7k warnings: 18+, explicit content // age gap relationship, throat fucking, p in v, cum eating, fingering, finger sucking.

Your ears are numb to the sound of your classmates engaging with Professor Munson, answering his questions eagerly to please the young and handsome teacher. You’re trapped in your own mind as you imagine Professor Munson bending you over his desk, his ungraded essays cluttered underneath your upper body. You imagine your thighs shivering and growing goosebumps as his fingertips graze your legs, hooking his pointer fingers onto your panties and pulling your undergarment down as slow as possible… 

“Are you listening, y/n?” Professor Munson asks as he leans against his long wooden desk, his legs crossed in front of him. You sit in the front row, of course, to be able to gain his attention. Your legs are outstretched in front of you and Professor Munson taps your foot with his. “Care to share what you’re day dreaming about with the rest of the class?” 

You blush, shaking your head quickly. “I wasn’t daydreaming, I was listening.” You lean forward on your desk, resting your elbow on the tabletop, your hand cupping your chin. Bending at the waist, you push your chest forward, allowing Professor Munson to get a front-row view of your breasts that are supported by your bra. 

Professor Munson, or Eddie which is what he allows you to call him in his office hours, lets his eyes dip to your exposed chest but he catches himself quickly, coughing into a close fist. “I see; let’s switch to talking about the book we read last week that we didn’t get to talk about.” He says to the class.

 You sit in the small classroom, your other classmates scattered about the room; there’s only about fifth teen of you, the classroom big enough to fit at least thirty students. Above the chalkboard is a clock that ticks rhythmically, and you watch for the next ten minutes as the class talks amongst themselves. Today was the day you’d go for the kill, feeling as if you and Professor Munson were playing a cat and mouse game since the beginning of the semester. 

Professor Munson was young, probably in his mid to late thirties, and incredibly attractive. Though he was physical attractive, an angelic face with soft features that combine to create a beautiful face, Professor Munson also had a ‘swagger’ about himself, a confidence that you could sense from a mile away. He never dressed, nor acted, like any of your other professors, he wore black ripped jeans, various metal band t-shirts and utilized an informal teaching style.  Nonetheless you enjoyed Professor Munson’s class, though you had to admit, you had an agenda. You wanted to fuck him. 

It all started in the beginning of the semester when you first walked into the classroom. You were automatically enamored by Eddie, easily charmed by his charisma and good looks. It was then and there where you began developing a plan, each week bringing you a step closer to today. 

Over the first two months of the semester, you had frequented his office hours, finding that even though the other girls in the class giggled about how cute he was, nobody went to his office hours leaving you hours to occupy his time. Professor Munson welcomed it happily: at first he quizzed you about the class readings, forcing you to engage with the conversations that happened during class. Though as the weeks went on, your meetings became more personal, and he started to ask you about your background, where you’re from, what your family is like. You were able to get some answers out of Eddie as well; it was fair game after all.

For a while you weren’t able to figure out if Eddie was understanding your motives, or if he found you as attractive as you found him. If he did, he kept it well hidden as a university Professor should. However, the last few meetings you had gave you no doubt in your mind that now was the time to try, to attempt to discover uncharted territory of what is Eddie’s body.  

Two weeks ago, you had visited office hours in hopes of getting your midterm essay edited with suggestions from Eddie; why not try to improve your grade while trying to get fucked? You were planning on making it a quick visit, meant to leave Eddie with dirty thoughts about you. You had worn your shortest skirt, barely covering the paisley patterned panties you wore, a long-sleeved t-shirt with the three buttons at the top completely unbuttoned. With ease, and all the casualty in the world, you brought your paper, printed and paperclipped together, to Eddie’s office, coming around the side of his desk to drop it in front of him. 

“Thank you so much for looking at my paper before the deadline, I just want to make sure I get it right,” you had said, your eyes soft and doe eyed. 

Eddie nodded slightly, his eyes drifting from your face down to your completely bare thighs. “O-Of course, Miss y/n. I’m happy to though I’m sure there’s not much to be corrected.”  You spied his hands resting on his desk, and you took the opportunity to make skin on skin contact. 

You placed your hand on top of his, feeling the coolness of his silver rings that were scattered across his long fingers. You laugh softly, the reverberation causing your breasts to jiggle on your chest. “You’re so kind to me, Professor Munson.” Your fingers curled around his soft hand, and you let it rest there, taunting Eddie to almost say ‘See? You could have all this. Come find out.’ There’s no doubt in your mind, standing in his office, all alone, barely clothed, that he wanted to jump you, lifting that tiny skirt you wore to bunch up at your midsection.

Eddie’s eyes flickered to where your hands rested together and he coughed, rolling his chair under his desk to hide his lower half. You bit your lip, hoping that a boner was what he was attempting to conceal as he pushed his bottom half under his desk. You lift your hand off of his, stepping away from the side of your desk. “I’ll come to your office hours next week to see what you thought of my research?” 

Eddie nods, his eyes no longer looking to make contact with yours. “See you then.” 

The following week you had done what you said you would, making an appearance in his office hours for the thousandth time. You had begun to grow a confidence that was reassuring, probably contributing to your delusions: a professor could never let himself fuck a student, right? Not in your world. You played innocent, pretending as if you didn’t know what you were doing as leaned across Eddie’s cluttered desk to grasp your paperclipped essay with his suggestions scribbled across it, your breasts on full display. You pretended to not know Eddie was watching as you ‘accidently’ dropped your paper on the way out of his office, making of a show of bending down to show your ass that was fitted in a lace thong – and also pretended not to understand why Eddie gasped, then coughed, as you took a moment to pick up your papers that were scattered across the entrance of his office. When you were away from his office, sauntering down the hallway, you just had to pat yourself on the back for the show you just put on. ‘Damn, I’m good at this.’ You thought to yourself, a smug smile playing across your mouth. Eddie was beginning to be just where you wanted him. 

“Well, I think we’ll leave it there for this week. Make sure to follow the syllabus and read what’s required for next week,” Professor Munson said, continuing to lean against his desk. “I’ll wait around if anyone has any questions.” 

You were slow to gather your things, tucking them all away into your backpack. You peeked around you to watch the last of your classmates filter out into the busy hallway. At last, it was just you and Eddie. 

“Professor Munson, I have a question.” You say, standing up from your seat. Oddly, you were nervous, your fingers trembling, your voice wavering. Perhaps you are afraid of rejection. 

Eddie hums, his eyes flickering to where you stand. “What can I do for you, y/n?” 

‘So much’ you think. “Well, I just feel like I’m not following the discussion in class. As if reading all the material isn’t enough to understand what we’re talking about. Perhaps I need a more hands-on approach?” You say, stepping forward to where Eddie rests against his desk. 

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Eddie says, his arms uncrossing from in front of his chest to holding him up against the desk. “A hands-on approach?” 

You bite your lip, nodding as you step closer to him again, continuing to close the gap that exists between you and your professor. “Something more.. intimate, perhaps?” You let your backpack drop to the ground, freeing your hands. You wear a zip up hoodie that’s cropped at the waist, though underneath it your skin becomes slick with sweat and nervousness. You make a show of unzipping it slowly, the sound echoing through the classroom. Outside, students shout and chatter as they walk to their next class and for a moment you’re afraid of someone walking in. 

Eddie’s eyes watch closely as your fingers work to unzip your hoodie, then shrug it off, dropping it on top of where your backpack lays across the linoleum floor. “A-Are you referring to when I called you out for daydreaming because, of course, our minds can’t stay occupied on a single topic for a long time; studies have proven that.” Eddie says, beginning to ramble. His adams apple bobs at the front of his throat, his voice quivering. 

You smile, cocking your head to the side. Crossing your arms in front of you, you take the hem of your shirt into your fingers, lifting up and off with ease. “I’m not talking about that. I think I just need some lessons; you know?” Confidence courses through your veins, pushing the disbelief that you were stripping your clothes off for your college professor into the back of your mind. 

Eddie says nothing, his eyes watching every movement you make. His mouth gapes open slightly, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He knows he shouldn’t be sitting against his desk watching, he should be stopping you, but he can’t move, his mind in a trance watching you, his student, bare yourself in front of him. 

You watch closely, analyzing Eddie’s facial expressions. You interpret his face as shocked, bewildered. You decide to take it another step further, reaching behind you with both hands to unclip your bra, freeing your breasts that you’ve been taunting him with. Left in only your skirt and tennis shoes, you step once more to Eddie, finally close enough to reach out and touch him. 

Your fingers play against his face, your fingertips beginning to trace his features. To your surprise, his hands reach out to grip your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your skirt. Eddie maneuvers you between his legs, bringing you almost nose to nose with him. The sensation of Eddie holding on to you makes your core begin to tighten, knowing he’s finally beginning to lean into game you’ve been playing. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Eddie says, his brown eyes watching as the pad of your thumb brushes against his bottom lip. You lean forward, letting your lips hover over his. “Oh, but you know you want to, Professor Munson. I know I want to,” You say, your nose nudging into his as you let your lips get closer and closer to his. 

Eddie swallows, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue creating a tender, painful boner to form against the tightness of his jeans. He wants to so bad, ever since you walked into office hours for the first time. So, innocent you were, though Eddie was no fool – he knew it was all an act. The way you were just barely an adult, only nineteen, his young pupil, yet you had the confidence and sexual charm of a grown woman. He had fallen right into your trap, a willing victim. 

Without hesitation, you let your lips gently intertwine with Eddie’s, each movement soft and delicate. Eddie hesitates at first, your lips moving against his as his mouth remains stiff though he isn’t able to refrain for long, the feeling of your soft lips against his, the sweetness of your mouth flowing into his forced him to give in. Eddie’s hands begin to move lower down your body, his hands finding their way underneath your skirt. Before he pulls your panties down, letting the drop to your ankles, he lets his fingertips drag against your cunt, feeling the way your pulsing clit is pressed against the fabric of your undergarments. To you, the feeling makes your eyes roll back, the pressure of Eddie’s fingers pressing against your most sensitive parts making your knees weak. You whine against his mouth, letting your arms wrap around his shoulders to press your bare front into his. 

It takes everything in Eddie to refrain from pulling your panties down abruptly, flipping you face down onto his desk when you whine against his mouth. Slow and steady; Eddie wants to relish every minute he’s under your spell.  Instead, Eddie pushes the fabric of your panties to the side, letting your moistness to be revealed. You drip around his fingers, your body preparing itself for his arrival. Eddie’s breath hitches when he feels how slick your cunt is, how turned on you are from merely his presence, just from a minute or so of kissing. Eddie’s stomach twists with guilt, knowing his interaction with you goes against every university code of conduct, though he couldn’t care less. With a swift movement, he lets his pointer and middle finger plunge into you, your wet core swallowing his digits whole. 

This time, the feeling of Eddie pushing his fingers inside of you causes you to moan loudly, throwing your head back, eyebrows knitted together with building frustration. Eddie takes the opportunity, now that your lips are detached, to leave a trail of gentle kisses down your chest, centering right between your breasts. With his free hand, Eddie cups your breast, letting his mouth envelop your hardened nipple.  You hand grips Eddie’s upper arm tightly as the tip of his tongue flicks across your nipple, sending a spark across your chest, your eyes pinching shut with pleasure. In a rhythmic motion, Eddie’s fingers move in and out of your cunt, your wetness from arousal beginning to drip down your inner thighs, and down the back of Eddie’s hand, down his forearm. 

Your thighs began to tremble against Eddie’s movements, his long fingers fluttering inside you, immediately attracted to the weakest spot inside of you. You feel pressure beginning to build inside your lower abdomen, the aching feeling of needing Eddie’s cock inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut; your body overwhelmed with the feeling of pleasure caused by Eddie’s thick fingers. 

You’re caught off guard when you’re moved quickly, now the one sitting against the hardwood desk, Eddie standing above you. You frown at the feeling of emptiness in your cunt, Eddie’s fingers going missing. Through your eyelashes at Eddie, your lips in a small pout. Eddie lingers above you, his tall stature seeming even taller as you sit at the edge of his desk, the hard edge digging into the softness of your ass. 

Eddie’s eyes gaze at you admiringly, his hand reaching out to touch your face in the manor you had touched his, his fingertips attending to all your soft yet beautiful features. The world around you slows to a vibrant hum, the hallways no empty, all the other students off to their next classes. You stare back at Eddie, feeling tension hang in the air similar to how humidity hangs in the air on a hot summer day. Thick and heavy. Slowly, his fingers come to a stop, his eyes never leaving your face. The pad of his thumb brushes the bottom of your lip then pushes between your lips. You part your lips, eyes wide as Eddie places his thumb on your tongue, your lips puckering around his finger. Your eyes flutter closed again, his finger moving in and out of your mouth as you suck gently on his digit, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin. 

“Such a good girl,” Eddie whispers, his voice shuddering as he feels your mouth enclose around his finger. “Such a bright student.” 

You can’t help but smile, the sound of Eddie complimenting you causing heat to creep up your neck to the apples of your cheeks. You sigh against his finger, letting your tongue cradle his thumb. Your clit begins to pulse, the anticipation beginning to kill you softly. Your eyes flutter open, letting your hands reach out to grasp his lower half, your fingers working to unbuckle his black, leather belt. Next, you pull down his fly, revealing a few inches of dark grey boxers, the outline of his cock growing more evident by the second. You let your fingers creep across the band of his jeans, using your upper arm strength to begin to tug downwards. 

Eddie pulls his thumb out of your mouth, stepping back to allow you the space to pull his pants and boxers down. You push yourself off the edge of the desk, kneeling down on the floor, in front of Eddie, to pull his pants down to his calves. Satisfyingly, Eddie’s thick cock bounces free from the confines of his jeans, his pink tip at your eye-level. With no hesitation, nor second thoughts, you take his cock into your hand, your mouth opening to welcome him down your throat. Eddie’s member bulges as you guide him gently down the canal of your throat, your lips puckering in a way that that’s you engulf him. You feel him shudder underneath your touch, his eyes pinching shut, his hand finding its way into the thickness of your hair. His fingers intertwine in your hair, allowing Eddie a good grip to guide you how he pleases. 

Eddie is only the second person you’ve ever fucked, though your positive the first time barely counts. And he’s certainly the biggest cock you’ve ever dealt with, surely ever seen. Your eyes begin to water as your throat expands to fit him inside, your throat walls beginning to ache at the work it has to do to fit him. Nonetheless, you move back and forth, tears beginning to threaten to spill over onto your cheeks, Eddie moving seamlessly in your mouth. Eddie begins to thrust gently into your mouth, his body moving in autopilot as he responds to the pleasure you provide by giving him head. You whimper and moan as he utilizes your throat in just the way he likes, Eddie deciding what temp you move at, as you hold onto his thighs for balance. 

Eddie feels himself getting nearly close, though he has no intention of finishing now. He wants his time with you to last even longer. Eddie backs his hips away from your mouth, letting his cock slip out of your mouth, a single spit string attached at the tip of his cock to your mouth. He leans forward, gripping his hand tightly around your upper arm and lifting you off the ground. With authority, he spins to around, pushing you towards the wooden desk again. Placing a hand on the middle of your back, he pushes you forward, legs pressed against the front of the desk, upper torso bent across the classroom desk. Your eyes and fists squeeze together tightly, the anticipation of feeling Eddie pushed inside of you leaving you on the very edge. You’ve waited for this moment for months. All your wildest fantasies coming true. 

Eddie gently kicks your ankles, spreading your legs apart further, gathering both of your wrists into his hands, behind your back. He leans forward, hovering near your ear. “You’re so beautiful, y/n.” Eddie says, his voice low. “I knew you were special when you walked into my classroom at the beginning of the semester – so perky, so eager to please.” 

You nod against the desk, feeling the muscles in your shoulder begin to burn from Eddie holding your wrists behind your back. “I wanted to be a good student, Professor Munson. The best one you ever had.” 

You hear the sound of Eddie moving behind you, feel the softness of his skin as he presses himself against you, his throbbing cock getting closer to your cunt. With his hand, Eddie guides his tip against your entrance. “How do you want it?” 

Truthfully, you wanted it every and any way. “Hard, rough. I want you so bad, I’ve been thinking about this for so long, Professor Munson. Please, I just want to be fucked.” 

Eddie can’t help it anymore, the sound of you practically begging for him, the way your voice contorts into a whine. It’s the hottest sound he believes he’ll ever hear. He lines himself up with you, his tip grazing your cunt. You sigh loudly, the feeling of him teasing your throbbing cunt makes your legs shiver and become weak. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, feeling like he could come all over your bare ass, the sight of you bending forward across his desk just enough to do the trick. But he refrains. With one hand, he spreads your ass cheeks apart, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Eddie’s heart beats against his chest, his fingers trembling with anticipation as he eases himself into you. Your slick cunt envelopes Eddie’s cock, tightening around him as he begins to thrust into you. His eyes roll back into his head, the feeling of you causing him to lose his breath. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, a whine escaping your lips. Your arms extend from behind your back out to the side, gripping onto the desk. “Oh fuck, Eddie.” You mumble, sighing as you speak. Your body goes from tense to slack, the feeling of Eddie rutting into you bringing you pure pleasure. “Keep going, don’t stop.” 

Eddie nods, though he knows you can’t see him. His body moves into you rhythmically, his cock driving entirely into you. Eddie watches for a moment, the way his cock moves into you slowly, your cunt swallowing him whole, and how when he pulls back, his cock is drenched in your arousal. He can’t help but moan in disbelief. 

As Eddie takes you from behind, his motions are slow and even, though your body begins to crave more as the seconds pass. You feel Eddie’s long fingers drip your hip bones; his fingernails blunt against your skin. Needing the feeling of Eddie moving through you at a faster pace, you begin to roll your hips against him, essentially using his cock to fuck yourself. Eddie’s eyes widen, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip, as he watches you move against him. “Such a good girl, y/n.” Eddie says, leaning over to brush your hair that has gathered in front of your face. He watches as your face softens; your lips parting as little breaths escape your mouth. “Yes, Professor Munson,” you mumble, your cheeks flushing with a soft pink. 

Your back arches, your bottom lifting higher into the air. You squirm underneath Eddie’s grip, his stance holding you in place as he takes over thrusting into you. Eddie feels his knees becoming weak, the sensation of his core tightening in his lower abdomen causing him to flinch. Eddie would love nothing to more than to come into you, thick ropes of his cum filling your cunt, giving him the opportunity to watch it drip out of you. He chooses to refrain, knowing that getting a student pregnant would be worse than fucking a student. As Eddie fantasizes about all the places he wants to come on you, he senses your legs tremble underneath him, your arms extending reaching out across the table, gripping the edge. “Yes,” your voice coos. “Right there.” You clench around Eddie’s cock, your core burning as if you’ve touched the sun, legs trembling as you reach a peak, an intense wave bringing your orgasm through your body, straight down to your toes. 

Eddie watches mystified, the way your body shudders underneath his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, soft sighs and whines echoing across the empty classroom. Just you and him. Eddie is sure your orgasming, all because of his touch, is the most beautiful sight, pretty enough to be a historical painting, hung in the Louvre. 

After a moment, your body relaxes again, becoming limp as sweat collects across your body and in your hairline. Eddie pulls himself out of you, reaching to grab your forearm. With his strength, he pulls you across the desk, bringing you to your knees in front of him. For the first time in several moments, and he gets a look at your weathered face. Your lips are red and puckered, dried spit across your cheek. Your eyes are glassy, red rimming your eyes, black mascara smudged under your eyes. Your cheeks are flushed, pieces of your hair clinging to your face. You look tired, exhausted, yet you’re still so eager to please, your hands beginning to move towards Eddie’s cock that rests at your eye level. You lick your lips, missing the flavor of him inside your mouth. 

Eddie lets his fingers intertwine in your hair again, bringing you underneath his cock. You crouch down, looking up at Eddie through your eyelashes. You watch, arousal still collecting in your cunt, as Eddie strokes himself above you, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. “Come for me, Professor Munson. Let me find out how you taste.” 

Eddie’s eyes open, his eyes finding yours. Just then, ropes of cum dribble out of the tip of his cock, splashing onto your cheeks, across your nose. You lean up, resting your tongue just underneath his tip. In a slow flow, Eddie’s come dribbles onto your tongue, the sweet, yet salty, flavor causing your tastebuds to flair. You sigh, satisfaction playing across your face as you swallow Eddie’s load, more of his semen splattering your face as you do so. 

Once Eddie is finished, he’s out of breath, sweat causing dark spots across his ‘Metallica’ t-shirt. Eddie pulls his boxers and jeans up, glancing at you as he rights himself, zipping his fly and re-buckling his belt. You're slower to put your clothes on, liking the way it feels to have Eddie’s gaze on your naked body, his eyes taking in every curve of yours.  

Once you put your clothes back on, bending over to pick up your zip up hoodie and beginning to put your arms in the sleeve, Eddie coughs, standing awkwardly off to the side. “This can never happen again, y/n. This was a lapse in my judgment.” 

You pout, tossing him a glance. You bend over once more, picking your backpack up by one of the straps. “Professor Munson, please” you say, shaking your head. You run a hand through your hair, attempting to make it look as if you just didn’t get railed, by your professor, in a classroom. “We both know this is going to happen again, and again. Should I come to office hours next week?” 

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. Eddie knows it’s wrong to have relations with a student, likely to get him fired if anyone were to ever find out. But you were so enticing, irresistible. For a moment, Eddie wonders how many people you’ve been with. Where did you learn to be so appealing, to move your hips in such a way, pouting your lips and batting your lashes to draw in any man you please? Regardless, Eddie wants to know more about you, learn what else you want to do with him. “Yes, come to my office hours next week.” 

[dark-fics-4-you]

Crocodile Tears

Dark!Coriolanus Snow x f!Reader

You and Coryo are academy students who were both selected to mentor tributes in the Hunger Games. Coryo becomes competitive and refuses to realize that his unreturned affections have begun to affect his performance. Frustrated by what he perceives to be you leading him on, Coryo delves deeper into his obsession and eventually gives in to the desires he tried so hard to deny.

Warnings: noncon, oral (m!recieving), forced sex, Reader loses her virginity, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, slight breeding kink, choking, slapping, degradation, slut shaming, misogyny, coryo is somewhat delusional (so basically in character lol), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Coriolanus’ palms were slick with perspiration as he flexed his hands anxiously.

Every noise in the room seemed amplified, his heart was beating so hard in his chest he was shocked his classmates couldn’t hear it.

Each name that Dean Highbottom read off that wasn’t his own was more painful than the last.

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

His head swiveled to look at you as you rose, pride written across your face at the confirmation of your place in the class.

The sounds of the applause filled the atrium and the classmates seated beside you congratulated you. After all, they were all within the top 4, districts that had much higher chances of winning the Games.

“Miss Y/L/N, you are assigned the District 4 girl, Coral.”

“Thank you!” You beamed, graciously accepting your place near the top.

Coriolanus’ face felt hot as he glared at you, toxic competitiveness rising in his chest.

It’s not like you were all that much better than him, you were a teachers pet and everyone knew it. Always kissing up to them and being so apologetic whenever you made even the most minor mistake.

It made him nauseous.

Not to mention the fact that there had been rumors that you had given a few favors to professors along the way in return for better grades.

He definitely believed it too.

Despite the sweet front you put up, Coryo just didn’t buy it. He had seen you in too many classes, it seemed like you were always stressed and complaining about school, despite getting top marks in almost every class.

The blond had spent many hours in class just staring at you, watching you pay attention in class and ask questions. He often found himself studying your face more frequently than he was studying his class work. Every facial expression that you made irked him to the core.

Each blank look you gave after being called on when you weren’t following along or the frustrated way you creased your eyebrows together was further proof that you didn’t belong at the same level as him.

But even more obnoxious was when you were right in class, which was a lot of the time. He hated the way your face lit up when you were told you were correct or the way you eagerly asked questions or got lost talking about a subject you found interesting.

He wondered who your family was, your last name wasn’t familiar but you had always seemed well off enough. Maybe your parents had bribed someone to keep you afloat? Or maybe the rumors were true, maybe you had been passing your classes just based off of your looks and extra time put in at their office hours.

It didn’t add up to him.

It wasn’t fair. His classmates were a bunch of idiots, so far below him they couldn’t even realize it. Even Sejanus, whose name had already been called, was much more insignificant than him.

So why hadn’t his name been called yet?

“Coriolanus Snow!”

His heart stopped at the sound of his name, blood rushing in his ears as he stood up.

He didn’t even know which district he was being called for.

“Runt girl, district 12, belongs to you.”

His stomach dropped when he heard the number.

12?? Could there be a bigger slap in the face? It couldn’t be right. He thought that he was better than that, he knew that he was better than that.

But he bit his tongue, metaphorically and literally, tasting the rush of blood in his mouth as he clenched his jaw, glancing at the screen as he watched the dark haired girl walk up to the reaping platform.

“What is that dress? Is she some sort of clown?” Coryo’s classmates snickered behind him.

He saw her reach behind her back before dropping a snake down the dress of a red headed woman in the crowd.

The students in the hall around him began to chatter loudly in disbelief.

Lucy Gray walked up the steps of the reaping platform only to be punched by a man at the front of the stage. A peacekeeper swarmed in, pulling him away from the fallen songbird.

Coryo couldn’t take his eyes off of the district girl, surprised when she approached the microphone at the front of the stage and began to sing.

Her voice cut through the crowd of the audience in District 12 and the academy hall, filling the space entirely.

“Nothing you can take from me

Was ever worth keepin'

Nothing you can take

Was ever worth keepin'

Can't take my charm

Can't take my humor

You can't take my wealth

'Cause it's just a rumor

Nothing you can take

Was ever worth keepin'

You can't take my sass

You can't take my talkin'

You can kiss my ass!”

At the last line, madness broke out around him as the students and laughter and shouts filled the hall.

Whispered inquires and pointed looks were tossed Coriolanus’ way, but he paid no attention to them. No, his gaze was locked on you, still seated and appearing to be lost in thought.

How badly he wished he had access to what you were mulling over. Perhaps strategy to help your tribute win? Maybe you were comparing your tribute to the others. Or maybe… he contemplated, dark thoughts crossing his mind.

Maybe you were plotting a way to get his sickly tribute eliminated early on, so he would have no chance at the Plinth prize at all.

Maybe you were laughing at him in your head because he was at the very bottom of the list, despite how much more he believed he deserved your spot than you did.

Blind rage began to clutch at his heart and lungs. He was certain that you were looking down on him, pitying him.

He was stuck with some district 12 song bird, while you got a career killer.

Now your chances of winning the Plinth prize was even higher. Despite all the reassurances from their professors, Coryo knew that winning the games played a factor in their decision, and the odds were very much not in his favor.

The academy mentors all stood, filing out of the hall, each of them excitedly talking about their tributes.

Coryo scanned for your face and he was a bit surprised to see that you still looked troubled. There was a frown on your face as your classmates discussed why they thought their tributes were going to either win the Games or die in the first five minutes.

You almost looked sad, but why would you be? You had a career tribute, one that was almost guaranteed to do well in the Games and likely curry plenty of favor and popularity from the Capital.

The blond scoffed at you, thinking back to his underfed, musician of a tribute and he cringed. He deserved what you had, the success that you had achieved should have been his own.

He was ripped from his thoughts, ears perking up when he heard you speak.

“I think I’m going to go visit my tribute once she gets to the Capital. I mean, don’t they practically ship them over here in cages? They’re probably exhausted by the time they arrive, that’s no shape to win the Games in. And besides, they’re humans too, don’t they deserve a little kindness before going to their deaths?”

The genuineness in your voice made him pause, was it possible you actually cared for these district scum? But when he looked into your eyes, there was no glimmer of mischievousness, no sign of a sinister master plan.

Coryo wasn’t even quite sure what compelled him to speak because before he could realize what he was doing, he was offering to accompany you to the train station.

Your head swiveled to his, eyebrows knotting in confusion as you regarded him. “Oh, really Coriolanus? I didn’t realize you saw the people from the districts as anything more than animals?” You snickered, referencing some of his previous comments in class.

Coryo’s face felt hot and he was sure his cheeks were growing red. He clenched the fists that were resting by his side before taking a breath to calm himself. He wasn’t going to let you embarrass him in front of his classmates.

“I got stuck with district 12, I’m gonna need to take any opportunity I can to push her over the finish line. Someone’s gotta give that girl a meal. And like you said, they’re human, just like us.” Coryo’s response shocked him even as his mouth formed the words. Words he didn’t truly believe.

It was funny, he thought to himself, if he had heard Sejanus say the same, his eyes probably would have rolled out of his head.

It had never even occurred to him to go visit his tribute. Coryo didn’t really care all that much whether she lived or died, but for some strange reason, if going to visit Lucy Grey meant that he could spend a little extra time with him, Coryo would have said anything to tag along.

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, surprised when you saw him in a light you never had before. “Do you really mean that?”

Your naivety was almost charming and Coriolanus flashed you a kind grin before nodding. It was adorable how easily you accepted his lies.

The short walk to the train station was uneventful. You seemed reluctant to speak with him, no doubt put off by some of the past comments Coryo had made about the districts.

If you weren’t going to talk or even, at the very least, look at him, Coriolanus decided he could spend the time studying you. He had never spent this much time with you, aside from in his classes.

He had also never realized how nice you smelled, like lavender and honey, and he was having trouble remembering just why he disliked you so much, when your voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“I can’t remember, do we turn on this street or the next?” Your timbre was soft and sweet, it reminded him of his mother’s.

“It’s this one,” he responded, a memory of going to the trains frequently in his childhood in the hopes that his father would be coming back home from the districts pushed it’s way into the forefront of his thoughts.

The two of you walked in silence, and then stood in silence for over an hour while you waited for the train to come. When it finally pulled into the station, your respective introductions to the tributes were hurried. The Peacekeepers quickly ushered them away from the station before herding them towards a truck.

Coriolanus was ready to call it a day after meeting Lucy Grey at the station, put off by their strange interaction, do people from the districts regularly eat rose petals, he thought to himself with a chuckle.

So he was more than a little surprised when he saw you approaching the caged trucks filled with the tributes.

“Y/N?” He loudly whispered. “What are you doing?”

“I want to know where they take them, plus we could both get more time with our tributes,” you explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Coryo felt a pang of anger rise in him at you patronizing him.

“Well I knew that,” he responded, trying to cover for himself. “But don’t you think we should be more careful?”

But you didn’t even hear him, already climbing into the back of the truck that your tribute had disappeared into. Coryo knew that he couldn’t let you go all alone, what if those tributes hurt you? Or worse, what if you getting more time with your tribute right now could be the thing that won you the Plinth prize over him?

Before he was given the chance to really think it over, he found his legs moving him forward and he jumped into the truck behind you.

Despite how soon the Games were, Coryo found himself struggling to focus his thoughts on ways to help his tribute.

You had been the only thing that Coriolanus Snow could think about the past twenty-four hours.

He had tried very hard to think it over, and he had come to the conclusion that he had never met someone who could irk him so deeply.

Coriolanus had forgotten all about his lie to you that he was going to bring Lucy Grey food after meeting her at the train, but he was shocked when you pulled several sandwiches out of your bag. Apparently, you had been planning to offer food to any tribute that would take it.

It was an idiotic move if Coryo had ever seen one. I mean, why in the world would you think that feeding every tribute would do anything but hinder your own?? Now they would all be going into the stadium with semi-full stomachs.

Still, at least that meant that he had been able to feed his sad excuse of a tribute.

It was impossible for him to focus on Lucy Grey while you could be out there pulling another stunt to propel yourself towards the Plinth prize. Of course you already had it so easy with the tribute you were assigned.

Coryo’s mind could not shut off, racing a hundred miles an hour towards the same thought over and over and over again.

He had to do something about you.

You and your tribute were too much of a threat to him. Coriolanus needed to win the Plinth prize, and he knew that you were the biggest threat standing in his way.

There had to be some way that he could give Lucy Gray another advantage without being caught.

The addition of the drones providing food and water was good, but not good enough. And he had only given her enough rat poison in his mother’s compact to kill two tributes, or seriously injure four.

Dr. Gaul loved his proposal for the games, it was just such a shame that Clemmie had to try to take the credit for herself.

With a flash, Coriolanus sat up in his bed, an idea striking him like a lightning rod. He walked to the closet where his jacket was hung up and he grabbed the handkerchief he had given to dry Lucy Gray’s tears.

After quickly trekking across the city to Dr. Gaul’s laboratory, thoroughly pleased when the guards let him through to tell them he was there to see her, he headed to her laboratory, knowing full well that she had already left for the day about 2 hours ago.

Planting the handkerchief was easy, walking out without being questioned by the guards was easier.

With his head held high, Coriolanus swiftly made his way back to his apartment.

However, his euphoria wore off quickly when he remembered that even if he could protect Lucy Grey from the snakes, he had no way to protect her from the career tributes.

Coryo wondered what you had been telling to Coral, what strategies you were instructing her to follow. Maybe you told her to pick out the weakest links first, which would include that sickly tribute from 11, the young girl from 8, and Coriolanus’ songbird.

It made him feel sick, and he was happy that his father wasn’t around to witness his inevitable spectacular failure.

It just wasn’t fair at all. How had he been placed at dead last, while the dumbest girl that he knew probably had a 1-in-4 chance of winning the games.

Rage boiled inside of him, keeping him awake for hours as he tossed and turned in his bed, and he cursed you for costing him precious sleep at a time like this.

For reasons he couldn’t figure out, Coriolanus’ thoughts were fixated not on the Games, not on his tribute, and not even on his growling stomach.

No, he just could not stop himself from wondering, and picturing, whose cock you had to suck to get that spot.

The games were horrific, of course. Despite having seen them nine times at this point, you still felt so queasy when the first canon shot off and the tributes ran from their platforms.

You could barely stomach watching, even though you knew that you needed to if you wanted your tribute to survive.

After the initial bloodbath, the number of tributes was effectively cut in half. Surprisingly, Coriolanus’ tribute had been holding her own, but so was yours.

Each fallen tribute stung you, knowing that they were all just innocent kids, none of them were old enough to fight in the rebellion against the capital, and if you had been born in the districts, that could have easily been you in that arena.

You were sure that was heavy on Sejanus’ mind too.

The hours and days blurred together, your stomach was in knots as you lay in bed each night, hoping that no tributes would die as you slept.

The first day you returned, on the second day of the games, there had been a death in the arena overnight, the District 8 kid, Bobbin. None of the cameras had captured what occurred, and none of the tributes made mention of killing him.

Each day that you returned and found your tribute alive, you thanked your lucky stars. Coral was very strong and cunning and you felt very lucky and proud that you had received such a good tribute assignment.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself but worry about Lucy Grey and her mentor. Lucy’s song had genuinely moved you during the tribute interviews and you felt very sad at the idea that your tribute’s victory would mean Lucy Grey’s death.

Coriolanus genuinely had surprised you when he followed you to the train station, you hadn’t expected him to care at all about his tribute outside of what her winning would mean for him.

He was scrappy and you had to give him that. Perhaps there was a side to him that you hadn’t considered before.

Although, you still were wary about keeping him at arms length, the way that he had talked about the districts in your class rubbed you the wrong way, especially when you knew that Sejanus, his best friend, was from the very same districts Coriolanus trash talked.

You were less than amused at some of the actions he took throughout the game. After discovering that the arena water drones were primitive at best, and likely to slam into whatever they targeted, when your tribute and several other cornered Lucy Grey, Coriolanus called in several drones that smashed into your tribute and the others, allowing Lucy Grey to flee to safety.

“He can’t do that! It’s cheating!” You fumed furiously, hoping that Dr. Gaul or the other officials would listen to you.

“I’m just sending them water,” he smirked back at you. In the end, nothing was done to punish him.

More tributes fell, some meeting more gruesome deaths than others, but your tribute was still doing very well.

The days dragged on tortuously, but the final day was the worst of all.

The tributes had all moved from the sewers and into the main arena area, before Dr. Gaul announced her intentions to drop the snakes into the arena following the rebel bombing of the arena before the games and the death of the President’s son.

The snakes erupted into the arena, easily taking out the remaining tributes until only Lucy Grey and Coral were left, vying to stay alive, trying to attack each other

As the snakes slithered over both of them, Lucy Grey began to sing.

Coral was overtaken by the colorful serpents, but for some reason, Lucy Grey didn’t met the same fate.

“Why aren’t they attacking her??” You questioned.

“I think it’s the singing!” Coriolanus responded and you narrowed your eyes at him, feeling a strange suspicion growing in the back of your mind.

Dr. Gaul had clearly not expected the academy students to react so strongly to Lucy Grey’s performance, her voice captivated everyone in the hall, even you.

“Dr. Gaul, please!” Coriolanus implored her again, and to your surprise, the rest of the students in the hall began to chant.

“Stop the games! Stop the games! Stop the games!”

She clearly knew when she was outnumbered, and she stared at the screen as the snakes crawled over Lucy Grey with a sour look on her face before finally conceding. “Get her out of there!”

Lucy Grey was announced the winner of the 10th Hunger Games, and although you were happy that she had survived, there was a nagging feeling that Coriolanus hadn’t won the games fair and square.

How had Lucy Grey survived the snakes? Where did she get the poison she used to kill Dill? Was it fair that Lucy Grey would have been dead by Coral’s hands had Coriolanus not stepped in and launched the water drones at the career tributes?

The celebrations in the capital among the students after the games lasted several hours, going well into the night.

You had stuck around for most of it, but you found it hard to celebrate Coriolanus’ win.

Because you knew that he hadn’t followed the rules. And the more you thought it over, the more it began to piss you off. You decided that you needed to leave the party, opting to head back to the Games control room you had been in the last several days to see if you could rewatch some footage.

Coriolanus hadn’t seen you in a couple hours, and he couldn’t figure out why that upset him. After all, hadn’t you raised a stink about him using the drones during the Games? If anyone had given your words any merit, he could have been penalized, or maybe even disqualified.

Maybe it was a good idea to try to find you and make sure that you wouldn’t say anything else about it.

When he couldn’t find you at the party, he headed to the Academy, searching through rooms until he found you seated alone, reviewing the games in the control room.

“Funny finding you here.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, surprised when you whirled around and saw Coriolanus.

“Coriolanus,” you breathed. Why did you suddenly feel so anxious to see him? Could he know that you had suspicions about him? “Why aren’t you still out celebrating?”

“To be honest, I was looking for you.” He admitted, taking a step forward and allowing the door to slam shut behind him.

“You were?” You asked, heartbeat picking up at the sound of the door closing. Coriolanus walked further into the room, eyes locked on you.

“I just.. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened during the games, it wasn’t my intention at all for that water to hit your tribute and her teammates.” You could tell that he was trying to put as much charm on as possible, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were being lied to. “I’m sorry that Coral died in the end.”

“Bullshit.” The words came out of your mouth before you could think them over.

The blond’s eyebrows raised in surprise, jaw clenching as he realized you weren’t buying it. He advanced further, now only a couple feet away from you, and you took a step back. He was now so close that he could smell your familiar floral scent.

You didn’t know why he was trying to get closer to you, but you knew that you really didn’t want him to, continuing to back away from him as he followed.

“You don’t get to just cheat and get away with it. We both know that those snakes should have killed Lucy Grey.”

“You think that I don’t deserve the Plinth prize?” The smell of lavender and honey was clouding his thoughts. Why did you always smell so good?

“Coriolanus I never said-”

“No!” he cut you off, moving closer, and you were surprised when you backed into a wall, feeling intimidated by, and maybe even a bit afraid of, Coriolanus Snow for the first time. Before this moment, you had never really noticed how much taller he was than you. Sure he may have been underfed, but you couldn’t help but take in the muscles that strained the fabric near his biceps and shoulders as he towered above you. “I work harder than everyone else here, and what do I get most of the time? Scraps! All you have to do is cry once in class and every professor would line up to fuck you, and yet you still never took me seriously, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows shot up at his harsh words, frustration building in your chest. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, even though you could feel a lump forming in your throat and tears began to blur your vision. You couldn’t understand what his problem was with you, why he seemed to hate you so much. The snippy retort you had planned died on your lips when you saw his eyes darken.

“What? It’s not like it’s not true. Everyone has heard the rumors about your good grades. The only reason your tribute got as far as she did was because she was District 4!” His words were taunting, cruel even, and you hated the way he was looking down at you, as if you were nothing to him. Despite how furious he was with you in this moment, he couldn’t help but fixate on the scent of your perfume, it was clinging to the air and choking him, taunting him.

“I can’t believe this, I helped you out through the entire games! It was my idea to visit the tributes! I let you give my food to Lucy Grey! You know, there was a voice in the back of my head, Coriolanus, a voice that I tried to ignore, but I knew all along that letting you come with me to meet them was a bad idea!” Your harsh words stung him, and a fire was building inside his chest. He didn’t know why your anger towards him was affecting him so much.

“The only reason Lucy Gray won was because you cheated and everyone is going to find out-!” You were cut off when his large hand grabbed your throat, pushing you against the wall behind you and constricting your airflow. Your eyes widened, and Coriolanus thought to himself that he enjoyed the utter fear and panic in your eyes.

“You’re right,” he looked down at you, a smirk beginning to tug at his lips. “I never would have thought to go to visit the tributes. Because of your idea, I was able to turn the spotlight on to Lucy Grey instead of you.”

Suddenly he realized why he had been so fixated on you for so long, why he had been so eager to follow you to the train station the day of the tribute assignments, why his thoughts torturously lingered on the smell of your perfume and the way your hair framed your annoyingly perfect face, and why he got hard as a rock every time he imagined you pleasuring your professors to pass your classes.

All his life, Coriolanus had been desperately searching for control. After the rebels took everything from him, he had spent his childhood and teenage years powerless. Even Lucy Gray couldn’t completely be his, they said she was going to be shipped back to District 12 after the Games, but Coriolanus was sure he would never see her again. You had been handed everything that he had ever wanted, save the Plinth prize.

Maybe, the Plinth prize hadn’t been what he was after all along, he realized with a shock. Coriolanus hadn’t spent all those hours obsessing over you because he believed he was owed the Plinth prize. He had done it because he believed he was owed you.

Fear had your feet frozen in place, your body felt paralyzed. Was he going to hurt you or, worse, kill you??

The very last thing that you expected Coriolanus Snow to do in that moment was kiss you.

With his strong hand practically crushing your windpipe and pinning you in place, you had nowhere to turn when he pressed his lips to yours. His lips were warm, and softer than anyone else you had kissed, which was a horrible thing to notice in a situation like this.

You struggled against him, trying to shove him off of you to no avail, and the hand at your throat tightened. When you gasped for breath, Coryo took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. The feeling stirred something between your legs, a warmth began to dampen the panties you were wearing beneath your skirt, and your cheeks heated up in tandem, a hot flush breaking out across your face.

Tears began to prick at your eyes, and you let them gather there, foolishly hoping that if they could blot out the man in front of you, he might just go away.

Within a moment, your brain began to work again and you used your nails to scratch at the hand at your throat, breaking free at last. Your reprieve was much too brief, no sooner than the hurried “help!” fell past your lips, the blond struck you across the face, shocking you into silence again.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’m going to hurt you, do you understand?” He hissed in your ear, not giving you any time at all before pulling you away from the wall by your neck and then forcing you to your knees in front of him. “No one else is here, they’re all out celebrating my victory.”

You winced at the sharp pain in your kneecaps, but more alarming was the look on your classmate’s face. You had always thought that Coriolanus held himself with dignity, that he was maybe even handsome, but this was a side of Coryo you had never seen before. His hair was disheveled from pushing you around, and his breath came in fast, uneven bursts. There was a deadly glint in his eyes that terrified you. He was clearly amused by your frightened state, the way his eyes drank you in pityingly did nothing to calm your nerves.

“You’re going to show me how you passed your classes all these years, Y/N,” Coryo sneered, laughing mirthlessly at his joke. To your horror, he brought his hands to his belt, undoing the buckle before unzipping the fly of his pants.

Your stomach dropped, shame blossoming through your entire body.

The honest truth was that you were a virgin.

You had never given any professors sexual favors or used your good looks to advance further than your classmates. Yes, you sometimes struggled with concepts in class, but you more than made up for it with after school study sessions and the frequent office hour with the academy professors. But you had never done anything close to what he was suggesting.

And yet, here you were, forced to your literal knees, all because Coriolanus Snow was jealous of something that had never happened.

You were pulled from your thoughts with a light slap on the cheek, not intended to hurt you that much, just enough to put you on edge again and get your attention. He was starting to get impatient.

His hard cock was thrust towards your face, and you were surprised and intimidated by how big he was. Coryo’s large hand wrapped around it and began to stroke himself.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” He asked gruffly, his free hand gripping your chin and forcing you to peer up at him, “you didn’t have any problem opening your pretty mouth earlier.”

Your stomach rolled at his twisted joke and you blinked more tears from your eyes before glancing away. You couldn’t stand to look at him.

“Ah there are those crocodile tears. I wonder, did you cry like this when you came into our professors’ offices after hours? ‘I don’t know how I will pass this course, please, I’d do anything.’” He mocked you, or rather the version of you in his head, with a scowl before spitting out his next words. “So fucking pathetic.”

“C-coriolanus please,” you begged him, eyes shiny with tears.

For just the briefest second, doubt about his actions tonight passed through his heart, but it was gone the next moment when he felt his cock harden at your sweet voice whimpering his name and the delicious sight of you kneeling before him. You wanted this just as bad as he did, he knew it.

Coriolanus grabbed you by your chin, pulling you even closer before guiding his cock towards your trembling lips. When you didn’t open your mouth, his fingers clenched down on your jaw, and after you cried out, he took the opportunity to tilt his hips forward, pushing the tip of his cock past your lips.

He groaned at the feeling of your soft wet mouth enveloping him. Coryo slowly thrusted his dick deeper and when you gagged on him, throat closing up after he pushed you too far, he could have sworn he was in heaven.

The blond tangled his fingers into your hair, pushing you to go faster as you bobbed up and down. He didn’t want to close his eyes for one second, drinking in every detail he could. The way you glanced up at him through your teary eyes in fear, the lewd sounds of you sucking him off, how you could barely take all of his throbbing dick into your mouth, and the spit that gathered sloppily on your chin only drove on his pace.

There was something deeply satisfying to Coriolanus about breaking you, about shattering the idea that you were ever anything but a cock drunk whore. He knew that he had to be correct, because the evidence was right in front of him.

An innocent girl wouldn’t have led him on for so damn long. An innocent girl wouldn’t know how to take cock so well. An innocent girl wouldn’t be choking and gagging on him like one of the pin up girls he’d seen after his school buddies found their fathers’ old snuff film collections from before the war.

“You might have fooled everyone else, but you can’t trick me, Y/N,” he whispered, pulling harder on your hair and you yelped, or maybe moaned, around him, sending a sinful vibration across the tip and shaft of his cock.

“You’re doing such a good job, it’s only right I give you what you’ve wanted all along.” Coriolanus slowed his movements, using the fist in your hair to move you and let his cock slide out of your mouth. You gasped for air then, but your relief was short lived and bittersweet.

“Take off your clothes and get on your back, Y/N.” His voice was cold as snow, leaving no room for disagreement. You were terrified, completely unprepared in every way for what was coming. Coriolanus glared at you threateningly when you didn’t move for a few seconds, and resignedly, you stripped off your shirt and skirt, shifting yourself onto your back on the cold hard floor.

You already felt utterly exposed in just your bra and panties, but the look of disapproval in his eyes told you that you had to remove your underwear as well. You slowly unhooked your bra, sliding the straps down your arms to pull it off and Coryo felt his mouth water at the sight of your perfect breasts. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, climbing on top of you before you could get to your panties, straddling you and covering your lips with his own again.

This time, he noticed that you were resisting less, even kissing him back now. He had been right, you were teasing him and leading him on this entire time! This thought both encouraged and infuriated him, and he knew there was one way to confirm his suspicions.

His hand wandered lower past your stomach, eagerly reaching for your barely covered pussy. He pushed the material of your panties to the side, slowly dragging the tip of his finger down your embarrassingly wet slit.

You tensed at the feeling, biting your lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to sneak past, and Coryo noticed your efforts.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I know you want it too,” he whispered above you, slowly pushing two fingers into your tight cunt. “You don’t have to pretend that you don’t.”

His intrusion was painful and uncomfortable, you had never experienced anything like it. Coryo’s eyes were locked on your face as he lazily pushed his fingers in and out. His cock twitched every time you moaned, and he was eager to stuff your pretty swollen cunt.

Tears were filling your eyes again and you sniffled pathetically, shifting your hips to try to adjust to the foreign pressure between your legs, which Coryo interpreted as you trying to fuck yourself deeper onto his fingers.

“Greedy little slut, can’t wait till I split you open, hm?” He sneered cruelly and your face burned with shame. “Don’t cry, I’ll give you what you’re too proud to admit you need.”

He pulled his fingers out of your already sore pussy, smearing your juices on the soft flesh of your inner thigh, before grabbing your panties and pulling them down your legs, not caring that his force ripped them. Coryo grabbed your thighs, holding them open and pressing them down against the floor, not allowing you to squirm in his grasp, before lining his now throbbing cock up with your slick entrance.

Primal fear clutched your heart again, was this truly happening right now? How in the world did you get yourself into this situation with Coriolanus Snow of all people? Your first time was supposed to be special, shared with someone who felt love and compassion towards you.

Instead, you were utterly terrified of the man leering above you. You were surprised when you felt his hand clamp over your mouth, but you didn’t have any time to linger on that thought because Coriolanus was slowly pushing the head of his cock into your heat.

You couldn’t help but whimper against his palm at the feel of him beginning to stretch you out, and Coryo cursed under his breath when he slid deeper, feeling you squeeze tighter around each inch until he felt himself bottom out inside you. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh, giving him better leverage.

He took a moment to just bask in the feeling of you enveloping him, you were clenching around his cock so tight it was almost painful for him. He began to move his hips slowly at first, and when you let out a breathy moan at the feel, he felt confidence surge inside of him.

Coryo could literally feel you growing wetter with each thrust, allowing him to pull further out before plunging himself back in. You were gripping him so tight and your arousal only let him fuck you faster and harder. He hooked one hand under your thigh, pulling it up to wrap your leg around the back of his waist.

The new angle allowed him to go deeper, and you felt like you were being split in half, the pressure was so intense.

He slid his large hand away from covering your mouth and brought it back to your throat, wrapping the hand around it and applying pressure. You tensed around him and Coriolanus cursed at the sensation.

The blond was pushing his cock into you faster now, snapping his hips against yours at a pace that had your head spinning. Every drag of his cock against your walls made your toes curl. Coriolanus was addicted to way he could feel every moan and whimper in your throat against the hand that was choking you. Even if you wouldn’t let him hear them, he knew that he was making you feel good, whether you wanted him to or not.

His free hand creeped from your hip to find its home between your legs, earning a whine from you when he swirled the pad of his thumb across your clit. Coryo could feel you quivering around him, twitching beneath every touch.

He wanted to be closer to you still, and you flinched when his lips found yours again, his chest now pressed to yours and caging you in. You were too disgusted to kiss him back at first, but fear overtook your reservations when he clenched his hand around your throat harder. Your lips moved in time with his and you moaned against him when he rubbed your clit again.

The blond broke the kiss to attach his lips to the soft skin at the side of your neck, moving his hand to allow himself access to bite and suck at your tender flesh.

“Don’t fight it, I can feel your cunt pulling me in,” he growled in your ear and you shuddered at his words.

As his sharp thrusts rocked your frame, you realized that your cheeks were damp with tears. Had you started crying again? Maybe you had never stopped.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Coryo breathlessly admitted, to both you and himself. His eyes were fixed on your face, trying to commit every detail to memory.

“I thought you hated me,” you whimpered quietly, not sure if it was even loud enough for Coryo to hear. The whole building was silent, aside from the crude sounds of him plunging his cock into your slick folds and your stifled moans. You had almost forgotten that you had said something until he suddenly spoke.

“I thought I hated you too,” his voice was strained as he held back groans. “But then I realized how useful you could be if I kept you around.”

You already wanted to crawl out of your skin at his words, but the next thing he said made your blood turn cold.

“Did your parents pay for you to get birth control so their stupid daughter doesn’t get knocked up by her professors?” He asked you with a cruel glint in his eyes.

You understood his meaning instantly, shaking your head with widening eyes, “N-no! Coriolanus, please don’t-!” You were cut off by his hand clamping over your mouth again.

“Hmm, pity,” he taunted you, chuckling darkly, “better hope they’ll be willing to pay for an abortion.”

At this, you found your last bit of strength to fight back, scratching at the hand that was at your throat and trying to force him off of you, but your pathetic attempts only made him laugh.

Coryo’s hand clamped down around your throat, choking you harder than he had before. You could hear your heartbeat racing in your ears and the edges of your vision had started to go black.

His cock was hitting a spot that had your toes curling in unwelcome pleasure, and when you felt his fingers twitch around your throat again, the overstimulation was just too much for you.

You whined loudly as your orgasm forcefully washed over you, the tension that had been building inside you finally releasing itself. Coriolanus could feel you clenching and fluttering around him, squeezing his cock so fucking tight.

With another flex of his hips, he came, spilling his sticky seed into you as he groaned your name. You were pulsing around him, milking his cock of every last drop.

When he stilled, he stayed on top of you, finally releasing your now bruised throat. You tried to turn your head away from him, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look in his eyes for a moment before his lips smothered yours again.

When he finally pulled away, he grinned down at you wolfishly, “fuck, Y/N. If I were one of our professors, I’d pass you too.”

[muntitled]

𝙄𝙍𝙍𝙀𝙋𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙀𝘼𝘽𝙇𝙀

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Summary: Toji is intent on ruining every other man for you

Warnings: Language, Toxic Relationship, fwb, Age Gap, Minor Gaslighting, Jealousy, Slight Angst, Coercion, Manipulation, Manhandling, Possessiveness, PDA, Threats, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, DUB/CON, Grinding, Forced Orgasm, Rough Sex, Toji Filming You, Video Sex?, Humiliation Kink, Exhibition Kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Neediness, Mutual Masturbation, Humping, Spitting, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, DDLG, Massive Praise Kink, Threats, Slight CNC, Extreme Humiliation, Forced Breeding

A/N: Please proceed with caution, I beg

Perhaps your first mistake is assuming you could open his message, glance over it with hooded, glossy eyes, and swipe out, with the blatant intention of ignoring him.

Toji is rarely someone who fancies wasting time. He types like the old man he is, with messages devoid of emoji's or textual abbreviations.

He had simply and succinctly written:

I miss your face.

His message is unambiguous with the expectation that you are now supposed to drop every commitment you might harbour on this thunderous Thursday night to accommodate him and his nighttime hard-on that probably hit him in a slump of boredom.

It irritated you to imagine how secondary you always seem to be in his mind's eye. It pissed you off to think that his words when he fucked you, his blatant degrdation, may hold a sliver of truth. Perhaps you really were just a sex toy he only makes use of when he wishes for a break from the rest of the world and its obligations. That piercing thought that he used you accommodate all his kinks, while he continuously failed to claim you amongst his associates... it broke you. It left you feeling cheap and ragged and worthless and-

another message peaks over your home screen:

I know you're seeing this. Tell him to fuck off.

"Everything okay?" Your head snaps up from your phone, immediately meeting the eyes of the man you had just kissed under the awning of your Townhouse patio. His warm eyes which had stayed warm throughout the duration of your date are now hooded in concern.

"Everything's perfectly fine," You attempt to reassure your coworker who had just taken you on a fantastic date. There is an inflection in your voice which you quickly attempt to clear, "Just a message from one of my students-"

You're interrupted by another incoming notification which you instinctively check.

I miss your cunt. Need to see you touch yourself.

Swiping out of that particular message had been significantly more difficult, and it took all your willpower to ignore the slew of notifications.

"My kids tend to send messages outside office hours too," your date soldiers on, bending his tall frame hoping to draw your attention once again. "It's like they don't understand the concept of school time and downtime. Teachers have lives too,"

Your eyes narrow infinitesimally at the strain in his voice when he says, "I like seeing you in academic work mode, though. It's hot." You immediately notice his words as a veneer to mask the irritation at having your date interrupted by your notifications. All that hangs between you two now is the rites of passage one is expected to complete at the end of every date.

'Ask me up' his eyes practically pleaded, as you noticed him send tiny glances at your front door, 'Ask me up and let's get this over with',

And perhaps, maybe you would have invited him up. Lord knows your own arousal had been building with the steady stream of Toji's messages, one more quick glance revealed the final message:

Do you honestly imagine yourself calling that puny little thing, Daddy?

A shuddering breath leaves your throat as a million questions bombard a million other statements racing through your mind. Questions of how the fuck Toji knew you were on a date were overshadowed by the realization that you are going to sleep with this stranger tonight. You are going to find a new anchor and a brand new distraction.

"Would you like to stay for a drink-" You asked, or would have asked, had it not been for the sheer shock at having your own door open behind you. You spin around, utterly speechless as you and your date both watch Toji answer your door.

"She doesn't drink," He says, leaning his bare, muscled shoulder against your doorframe, the rest of him is clad in his sweatpants, the drawstring left lazily to hang, "So finding any beverage alcoholic enough for her to negate the fact that you're not going to make her cum, will be quite the feat." Your coworker bristles at Toji's remark, but you're corralled into silence. It is as if your brain can not comprehend what your eyes are seeing in front of you. Your voice is dwindling as you attempt to ask,

"Where did you… How the hell did you get my keys?" But Toji disregards you as easily as he has been doing for the duration of your relationship. Arousal be damned, all you allow yourself to feel in this very moment is red, white, and hot, anger.

It is so easy for him to look past you, so easy for him to pretend you're not there when his cock isn't forcing you to take his cum. The anger pulsates through you, straining your tear ducts. If it weren't for his sudden, inexplicable movements you probably would have cursed him out with tears streaking your face.

With his eyes still on your date, Toji pulls your limp body against him. He dips his head to splay a calloused kiss at the side of your head before letting his hands drift over the curvy outlines of your body. He rubs you soothingly, in a way he knows would get you into a compliant, likely sated state as he pushes your head onto his bare chest.

"You're still standing here?" His head tilts as he stares down your date; a scarred lip curling at the end. "Would you like to watch?" By this point, you're so deep into detangling your own conflicting emotions that you're not even sure who Toji is speaking to. What you are aware of is his bulge rubbing against you from behind. His grip on your hips are concrete as he looks at the now utterly angered man, "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to," Toji's lips graze your ear, "She does enjoy putting on a show,"

You're utterly horrified that his words and raucous display have your colleague lumbering away from your doorstep and racing to his car, never looking back.

"That is an utter shame. I think he would've liked to see how needy you get when you wanna cum-" But you've finally gained enough sensibility to push him away from you. Your heart is beating loud in your ear as you push past him and into your living room.

"Where is it,"

"My dick? It's in my pants and it wants your attention-"

"Your shirt!" Your voice thunders up into the rafters of your living room's ceiling, likely in vicious combat with the thunder groaning outside. "You're going to get your shirt and you're going to leave my house and you will then proceed to leave my fucking life!" You're pushing over cushions and decorative pillows as you search frantically for Toji's shirt, "Give me my fucking house keys and leave me the fuck alone, Toji, I'm serious!"

In the tempest of your movements, frizzy hair wild from your outburst and your manic movements, you are utterly seething to find him directly behind you. His head, dipping into the nape of your neck, deposits a row of kisses as he pushes himself up against you.

"I really need to fuck you." He says, completely reducing your earlier words into nothingness, "I need to hear you make those needy little whimpers of yours and I need you to call me Daddy, okay? I need you to tell Daddy you want him to make you a Mommy," He is utterly delirious as he fists your breasts over your buttoned shirt and thrust his hips into your backside. He is deluded by his own fantasies, guided by his own arousal with little to no thought for your own feelings. You hated that his desires flowed parallel to yours. You hated that you wanted exactly what he wanted. You hated that your panties were already steadily getting soaked at just the thought of him needing you so much he started humping lazily into your ass. "Daddy needs you to take care of him, hm? Can you do that, pretty girl?"

Your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak, afraid that it might bleed into a horrendous moan, "When have you ever taken care of me, Toji? You fucking humiliated me-" He spins you around until your chest is facing him. You fight to evade the sight of his cock straining against his grey sweatpants as you stare blankly up at him.

"You like it," Toji says, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your cheek, "And I like that you like it." And perhaps, maybe a sick, emotionally damaged part of you did enjoy it when he made you suffer a little. His words bring revelation, as you think back to seconds ago, how him touching you - disrespecting you in front of your coworker brought on a heightened state of arousal.

"Make yourself cum." He commands as he hurriedly undoes the buttons of your blouse. You quickly notice that his patience has finally cracked, and a vexed scowl now dances on Toji's face as he discards your blouse on the floor, "No more questions. Make yourself fucking cum-" He growls, as he forces you down onto your couch with a hand gripping your scalp and another, pulling a wayward pillow in front of you.

"Make yourself cum because when I touch you, your pleasure is going to be the least of my fucking concerns."

You eye the pillow with slight trepidation while Toji eyes you from above. His hand is still firmly placed on top of your head, lightly craning it backwards to see every emotion running through your face.

"Keep the skirt on," He orders, and watches with hungry eyes as you slowly take off your underwear and mount the cushion in front of you.

"Give me your phone," he is already grabbing at your device, fumbling for the camera.

"Toji, please-"

"It's Toji, now!?" He asks, laughing breathlessly as he presses record and pushes the camera into your face, "Who the fuck is Toji to you?"

Your eyes snap shut, hoping to get away from the invading insectile lense or fresh coat of arousal betweenyour thighs. Your mind is utterly fried by the stimulation you're getting from every output. Your hips have started languidly moving against the pillow, feeling pathetically satiated by the friction against your soaked little clit,

"Look at you- Fuck!" Toji removes his hand on your head to lightly paw at the bulge so deliriously close to your face, "Look at what a fucking slut you are! Do your little work friends know how stupid you get when you're on the verge of cumming-"

"Toji-"

"I said who the fuck is Toji to you!?" The sheer and utter cruelty in his tone has you humping the pillow faster, while you clumsily raise a hand to paw at your breasts. Unable to keep his composure any longer, Toji's hand descends into his sweatpants as he begins to stroke his aching dick in unison with your hips. You watch with hooded, fucked out eyes. Your pillowy lips pull in between your teeth as a pornographic moan bubbles from within your chest.

You decide to give in. "P-Please Daddy, Please fuck me- I fucking need you to cum inside me- p-please-" You're unable to stop, feeling your wetness spread along the pillow, as you watch him stroke intently, "Fuck me- I need you to fuck me, fuck me please, Daddy-" You're utterly breathless, repeating your words like a wanton, desperate whore, "Please… Daddy," you continue to whisper, "Daddy,"

"Fuck-you look so fucking sexy, baby," He doesn't know whether to look at the video of your hips moving greedily against the pillow, or to watch the real thing: your hips making a web of sticky trails of arousal on the couch.

"Apologise to Daddy, like a good girl," He really wants to fuck you but his own pride, the curse of his averous stands in his way, "Tell Daddy you're sorry for being a foolish little whore. Tell him you'll never ignore a message from him ever again-" your shoulders flinch at the sound of your phone being discarded on the floor but still, your hips are unrelenting as you say, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry." Drool drips from the side of your mouth, falling along your exposed breasts, which Toji squeezes recklessly. "Never! I'll never ignore another message from you ever, ever, ever," you're operating on autopilot, as you watch him release his cock from inside his sweatpants, his fingers prod and twist at your nipple.

"I miss your mouth," He utters drunkenly as he bends down, "Kiss me," And you obey as you rise to meet his lips. The soft roughness of Toji's lips only has your hips humping desperately against the pillow once more, his tongue forcing its way inside until you're both kissing with lewdity and ferocity. "Fucking slut-" he says, pulling back to push you backwards,

"My horny humping girl is so ready for Daddy to fuck her isn't she?" You're completely flooded with anticipation, it flows through your arteries, alerting every part of your brain. You feel as though you're about to taste euphoria as Toji roughly pulls your hips to the edge of the couch, lifting it to meet his cock which he hurriedly slams into you.

He fucks you, hard and rough and as needy as you feel- hovering above you so every stroke has his pelvis pushing against your clit as you fucks you into your own couch.

"You thought you could just fucking get away from me, hm?" There's a heavy condescending tone in his voice, one that has you arching your back with your lips pulled between your teeth. You're striving to get away from his harsh thrusts because the pleasure is way too much . It's all bubbling inside you, threatening to spill out everywhere and anywhere.

"I fucking told you, didn't I!?" Droplets of water fall from his hair as he watches you so intensely. You think you might cum on the spot, "Daddy fucking told you that you can't ever say no to him- you can't ever tell him to stop- Stop fucking moving!" But your movements have him more turned on than you'd initially thought, allowing him to use the advantage of his brawn, to lock you down with his iron grip at your hips. You're trapped on the couch underneath him, as he continues to fuck you like you don't exist,

"If you keep moving like that- fuck! If you keeping fucking trying to get away Daddy will have no choice but to cum inside you," Your legs tingle with the nearness of your euphoria, it only expands as he brings his lips directly onto of yours as he mutters, "Daddy's going to cum inside you, okay? Maybe that's what you need to realise you can't talk to other men? Maybe getting you fucking pregant will make sure you'll stop being a fucking slut-"

His cock is shallow and relentless inside your soaked, gummy walls, it pushes against everything it can find and is utterly relentless on that one sensitive bundle of nerves that only he seems to be able to find.

"Are you going to cum!?" He asks, "Because I'm so fucking close baby- I want you to cum with Daddy, okay? Be a good girl for once in your fucking life-"

"FUCK-" You're a screaming, wet mess as you cum so violently, it disrupts the flow of your entire body, "Thats it… Gonna get you pregnant- oh fuck-" he exclaims, his white hot seed exploding inside of you, prolonging the overwhelming sensation of your own orgasm. It completely takes over your mind - feeling so completely full of him. Toji's hips lightly shudder as he attempts to milk as much of himself up inside of you, before pulling away. He is utterly mesmerised by the sticky, white cum oozing out of your puffy vagina. He watches, transfixed, as he brings his fingers up to slide as much of his cum inside you but it all comes sliding back.

"What are you," You're barely able to find your voice, "What are you doi-"

But he already has you upside down. His muscles flex he holds you carefully by your hips, with your head grazing the carpet. You recognize the movement as a relic of the old wives' tale. The second his cum is swimming inside you, you need to lay upside down to help it along.

No scientific evidence that this guarantees any sort of pregnancy, of course, but Toji strikes you as the superstitious type.

"Making sure the job's done." He says, "You think I was kidding about getting you pregnant?"

I can explain...

[studioghibelli]

moonlight sonata- a joel miller x reader

summary: entranced by your enigmatic history professor, you can't help but feel like he's hiding something from you. is it really that crazy to think that joel miller might actually be.... a vampire?

warnings: no use of y/n, teacher x student relationship, vampire!joel, professor!joel, student!reader, no outbreak!au, hefty age gap, a self-indulgent vampire fic i'm not even gonna lie, and of course smut (biting, desk fucking, pussy eating, period sex, fingering, finger sucking, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, etc.)

The rocky shore line raged alongside the whistling storm, brazen waves slapping and slamming against the rocky coast with each crack of lightning. The stone covered castle far off the outskirts of the small, hidden university was mostly shrouded in the darkness of night, except the flickering of a candle light at the highest window.

With each tick tock of the clock, the rain continued its journey on through the evening, painting the green grass with its wet dew. You cursed yourself for making an appointment with your history professor on this day of all days, annoyed that the weather decided to act up on this particular Wednesday, as if the storm hadn't been brewing for days on end.

As you walked along the cobblestone path, the moon slowly clawing up the canvas of the sky, your mind wandered to thoughts of him.

Joel Miller. Dr. Joel Miller. Professor Joel Miller. He didn't mind what he was called, as long as they got the "Joel" part right.

He was an enigmatic as he was handsome: charming, intuitive, mysterious, quiet. Every time you thought you were getting over him, he did something to draw you right back in. The flash of a smile sent directly to you during a test, a gentle brush of his fingers across your shoulder, a comment made on a well-written paper of yours- he knew just what to do to keep you tight on the line of his fishing hook. Whether he knew what he was doing, well... that was another question entirely.

You had asked to meet him after his office hours because of a particularly jarring comment he left on one of your papers.

Your research on Medieval Romanian folklore demonstrates commendable dedication and insight into the complexities of nocturnal life and the myths associated with it. However, I urge you to exercise caution in your interpretations, as some observations may lead you down paths best left unexplored. Remember, curiosity can be both a blessing and a curse.

Since you read what he wrote, you haven't been able to get it out of your head.

Weeks of research on Romanian folklore, specifically that of vampires, had left you questioning and guessing a multitude of previously learned lessons. You felt crazy, waking up in the dead of night because you felt eyes on you, the lingering kiss of a pair of sharp teeth ghosting against the soft skin of your neck. And, even more crazy -admittedly- you found yourself studying Professor Miller even more closely after his comment.

He only held his classes in the evening, his office hours were far later than any other professor, and you could always see his office light flickering on throughout the night, a beacon of hope you could look out to from your dormitory, when you were jerked awake by nightmares of monsters sucking your blood dry, their sharp fangs biting in to your supple flesh as though you were their first meal in centuries.

And yet, despite the pieces of evidence you had collected over the past few semesters, you still felt like you were on the brink of insanity for even thinking about believing such a preposterous myth. Especially one that involved Joel Miller, your favorite professor.

Despite this, you longed to talk to him about that cryptic message he wrote, so you swallowed your doubts and fears and garnered up enough courage to meet up with him.

By the time you reached the thick wooden door of his office, you could barely breathe, soaked to the bone as your clothes clung to your skin, droplets of rain clinging to your skin like smears of oil paint on a canvas.

You didn't have to knock for the iron hinges of the door to swing open with a loud creak.

"Professor!" Your surprise rocked through you, eyes widening as he caught you right on time.

"Hello. I knew you were on your way up." He looked down at you, his burly build towering over your own, and beckoned you inside.

Dr. Miller's office was cold, so cold that your skin raised with goosebumps as you slowly made your way inside. The wallpaper was old and floral, ripping at the edges of the corners of the walls, and the gothic architecture of the ceiling was tall and made of stone, providing even more of a chill in the already frigid room.

His desk was dark and made of solid mahogany, an absinthe lamp standing proud in the corner, as various candles flickered throughout. Rows of books lined the shelves, all of them old and leather bound, filling the office with the musky and comforting smell of aged paper.

It felt homely, yet it was freezing. The dichotomy of those two feelings left you rather stumped.

Joel made his way to his chair, his tight black pants and loose, long sleeved white shirt bellowing beneath the cranked A/C.

Perhaps you were just wet with rain, but you couldn't stop shivering.

"D-Do you run hot, or something?" You finally managed to stutter out, your arms hugging tight around your body as you sat across from him.

The Professor grinned ever so slightly, grabbing a black coat that hung on his tall coat rack, moving to hand it to you. When he got close, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. You watched his knuckles turn white against the collar of the jacket, and you heard him slowly take in a deep breath.

Slowly you looked up, his pupils blown wide with some archaic sort of desire, darkening with every breath he took in. It was as though he was breathing you in. Your thighs clenched tightly as his hand dropped to your shoulder.

Joel looked down at you, blinking slowly, as though he were coming back down to reality from an existential crisis or nerve racking nightmare. A shudder ran down the teachers spine, before he quickly dropped the material in your lap and rushed back to his chair, quickly becoming composed and poised as though nothing else had happened.

What was that about?

Dr. Miller peered at you from across the desk, smoothing out a paper that lay before him. The air was thick with an awkward sort of palpability, and you were scared if you tried to speak, nothing would come out of your mouth, your tongue dry like cotton.

"You said you wanted to meet with me?" He finally asked, his words slow and deep, that familiar Southern drawl clinging to each syllable in a smooth, honeyed sort of way.

"Y-.... yes." Clearing your throat, you somehow managed to sit up straighter, bringing the fleece coat tight upon your shoulders. "My paper."

"The one about vampiric Romanian myths, I assume. What about it?"

"I..." You paused once more, your mouth hanging open at the sheer insanity of what you wished to say next. "I think we should stop calling them myths, Professor."

Your professor chuckled a lovely, warming chuckle, a hand gently running down his stubble covered cheek. "Is that so?" His voice dropped an octave, and you saw his pupils grow dark once more.

With furrowed eyebrows, you began to speak once more. "I researched this extensively, you see. These... these sources, from the 15th century, they're accompanied by various art pieces, debates... I-I even read papal court cases involving humanoid creatures that only hunt at night. All of that-all of it is just a myth? Something doesn't add up to me."

"When studying history, it's important to note that not everything is.... as it seems." He flashed you a smile, and you caught glimpse of an incisor that looked longer than usual, sharper that normal, more imposing than most.

A wave of courage rushed over you at the sight. "Just with history?" Your voice was a whisper, but for the first time that night, it did not waver.

He stood, slowly making his way towards you. Your spine straightened as he pressed against you from behind the chair, his hands slowly falling to your shoulders. His palms were warm, heating the skin of your shoulders, your mind soon forgetting the cold memory of the rain.

"What are you implying?" You looked over to him, your eyes tracing over the golden skin of his hands, rough and calloused by the hand of time. This is the skin of a killer bella.

"Are you..." You took in a defeated sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. "Are you a vampire?" You couldn't believe how stupid you felt, how stupid all of this seemed once you spoke it out loud.

He laughed, and you felt him shifting to match your height, one knee resting on the wooden planks of the floor. "What do you think?" Joel whispered, his nose gently brushing against the skin of your neck.

You took in a sharp breath of air, leaning back against him, slowly turning to face him. "Dr. Miller...."

"What?"

"You're... you're very close to me."

"Do you want me to move? I can."

You shook your head slowly. "No. Don't." And you meant it.

A mischievous smirk fell over his plush lips, and you felt a finger gently tracing down your arm. "That's what I thought. I can see you, you know. The way you act around me, how you beam when I praise you, how you deflate when I walk away from you. I'm not stupid, darlin'. I know what you want, and I can give it to you."

"And what do I want, Professor?"

You could feel the arrogance radiating off of him. "Me." That one word was so infuriatingly attractive, his confidence only making him more desirable, more tempting.

You took in a sharp breath of air, your head falling into his shoulder. You felt his eyes searing in to your jugular, the smooth, taut skin of your neck on display for his chocolate hued eyes.

"How do you know that?"

"I can smell it. Your arousal. Your desire. Your need. All for me. I can make you feel pleasure like no one else can." His words were hot against your skin, and you felt his lips brushing against it with each word he spoke.

If you wanted to lie, you knew you would be unable to, now caught in his words like an animal in a trap. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yes." Was all you could say, your tongue dry once more. "But not tonight. I'm-"

"Bleeding?" Joel finished for you, and you were shook by the realization that if anyone in the world would care about that, it certainly wouldn't be him.

"How did you know?"

"I can smell it." You could practically hear the watering of his mouth, the desire which clung to the surface of his syllables. "Surely that wouldn't deter me, if what you've discovered is true. No?"

"No."

"Then let me taste you, let me have you."

"I'm yours." You whispered quietly, eyelids shutting as his mouth attached to your neck, deep kisses pressing in to your exposed flesh, searing hot with the promise of arousal.

"Oh, you always have been, haven't you?" Joel's fingers gently tangled around your tresses of hair, his tongue licking a thick strip across your throat.

"You never answered my question." You whispered out your thoughts as you felt his the sharpness of his teeth.

"I know. But you never answered mine."

"What-.... what question?"

"What do you think I am?"

"You know what I think."

"Do you have proof to back that up?" Dr. Miller's voice was getting cocky now, each word laced with more arrogance than the last.

"I've never seen you in the daylight. Never... never seen you eat or drink anything. You lurk in your office, in the shadows of the classroom. You're not like the other professor's, who are always out and about in the mornings, chattering and drinking coffee." You shut your eyes tightly, your tongue sweeping across your lower lip.

"Say it." He pleaded, words dark and cloudy with desire. "Say what I am."

"You're a vampire."

"You're right."

A shaky breath escaped you, and you slowly opened your eyes to see his mouth slightly open, the sharpness of his fangs exposed to your vision. You turned to face him head on, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering golden flame of the surrounding candles.

He looked so handsome in this light, the shadows that danced across his face only making him more imposing, more alluring. The Professors umber eyes were glued to your features, and you felt a calloused finger trace along the line of your soft jaw, his touch warm and gentle. You shivered at the feeling.

"Will you bite me?"

"Bite... you?"

"Please."

Joel ran his middle finger across your lower lip, a stray strand of hair pushed behind your ear by his slow movements. A sad sort of smile fell over his face. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

He stared at you long and hard, as though he were weighing infinite possibilities within his mind. "If I start, I won't ever want to stop. I'll just keep coming back to you for more and more, it will be an infinite loop. Not to mention what.... well, what will happen to you."

"To me?"

"Eternity is a very long time." His voice turned solemn for a moment, and you nodded in silent understanding.

"How old are you?"

"Very old."

A soft giggle escaped you, and your hands moved to cup his scruffy cheeks. "I always thought vampires were Romanian. Or, Byron-like and British. Like Keanu Reeves."

He chuckled smoothly, shaking his head slowly at your guess. "Not this one. I'm a cowboy, through and through. Always have been, always will be."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you leaned towards him. "Can this cowboy kiss me?"

"This cowboy'll do whatever you want him to do."

Your eyes fluttered shut as Joel pressed his mouth to yours, a searing kiss burning through your body like an pyre ignited with flames. You moaned at the pleasure that filled your chest, his hands slowly moving to the hem of your damp shirt, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your belly as your kiss deepened. You hooked your leg around the professors waist, pulling him closer until his chest was flush against yours.

"I want more." You moaned out breathlessly, arms hooking around his neck as you pulled away.

"Then I'll give you more."

In one fell swoop he picked you up and placed you on his desk, his sheer strength causing you to yelp in surprise. Joel kissed you as though he would never kissed another, hungrily and passionately, working the buttons of his shirt. When he was done, he stripped you of your own, only pulling away to look upon your naked form.

"You're beautiful. Perfect. Look at you." His eyes drunk in every inch of your exposed chest, and he slowly grabbed the waistline of your jeans, tugging them off of you in one brief movement of his arms.

"You're beautiful." You mumbled, planting your hands on his thick biceps, feeling the strain of his muscles against your touch.

He smirked slightly, yet you caught a glimpse of it, and before you knew it he was down on his knees, his face buried between your thighs. You felt his teeth gently bite into your thighs, not hard enough to break any skin, but enough for you to feel it. You shivered at the pleasure, your fingers tangling into his hair.

You laid back across the desk, legs hooked over his shoulders, as his lips wrapped around your swelling clit, tongue tracing circles over your sensitive button.

You groaned out at the contact, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him even closer to the slick heat of your pussy.

"You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

All you could do was moan out at his comment, allowing him to drink you all in with every lap of his tongue, every movement of his soft lips.

"I could stay down here for eternity." Joel grumbled, sucking in your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you begging for me.

"Do what you must." You responded through a breathless laugh, shocks of pleasure jolting through your core.

His tongue swept through your folds, collecting your arousal and your blood, the metallic taste of your tang filling his senses with pleasure he never thought was possible. Joel ate your pussy like a starved man. Which, in truth, he really was.

His fingers slowly moved to the entrance of your contracting pussy, and he eased his digits in to the knuckle, hitting against that spot that made you coo with relief. As he slowly began a rhythm with his movements, Joel returned to your clit, making sure it wasn't feeling left out. He sucked and licked, lapped and groaned, your cunt the only thing in the world that he cared about in that moment.

Before you could even think of what was going on, you felt your orgasm brewing within you, and that coil was only growing tighter by the minute. Dr. Miller continued fingering you, adding in a second finger as his tongue traced shapes into your bud, your blood dripping on his chin as he took you all in.

"I'm going to- I'm... Oh, fuck. Professor!" Your orgasm rocked you like a hurricane, waves and waves of tepid bliss filling your mind until his tongue on your skin and his fingers deep inside you were the only thing you could ever remember.

He only pulled away once he licked every drop of your cum and blood up, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand. Joel looked at you darkly, eyes meeting yours, and you noticed the bulge pressing into his trousers.

"Fill me." You whispered, opening your arms to welcome him back to your embrace.

"Oh, I will."

Joel moved to your arms, his hands working at his zipper until he was completely naked in front of you. You traced your palm down the softness of his belly until you had wrapped your own hand around his cock, stiff and aching with the thought of being buried deep inside of you. You guided his leaking mushroom tip to the entrance of your cunt, slowly looking up at him.

"Take me."

"As you wish." He whispered, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he pushed in to you, hands moving to your waist.

He stretched you perfectly, each ridge and vein introducing you to new pleasures you had never felt before. Joel knew how to make you shiver, how to make you moan, and he had never heard anything as beautiful as the sound of his name falling off your pretty lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' tight for me, so wet." His teeth grazed against the flesh of your collarbone, and you felt his kisses pressing up and in to your neck. He bit down on your skin, much harder than the last time, his incisors tracing perfect lines on the suppleness of your throat.

Your fingers moved to his hair as you cried out his name, cheek falling into the side of his head as he pumped deep in to you. "Fuck me." You begged out breathlessly, his hips against yours growing harder and meaner with each movement.

"You're mine." His words were a growl, his words calming and deep in your ear, his heavy pants with each thrust causing you to whimper.

"I'm yours."

"Good fuckin' girl. Takin' me in." He raised his fingers to your mouth, gently pushing past your lips. "Suck."

You sucked your own orgasm off his flesh, moaning at the taste as he pulled away to watch, his pelvis hitting against yours as he fucked your pussy. A smirk flitted at the corners of his mouth.

"Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed."

You moaned out at the praise, pulling away with a gentle pop.

Joel reached down, easily finding your clit. "Gonna make you cum on my cock. One more time for me. Okay?"

"Okay." You complied happily, laying back on the desk once more as he towered over you, chest coming in to contact with your own as he rubbed and fucked, skilled beyond any sort of measure you had ever experienced before.

"That's my girl. My pretty girl. My strong, smart, clever girl." His words were hot against your throat as he bit you again, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make himself known.

He had so much power like that, with his teeth right against your flesh. He had your life in his hands, and yet he had no desire to take it. No desire you suck you down to the bone, no desire to curse you with the eternal fate he himself had been left with. Oh, yes. Eternity does sound so romantic to those who have no concept of it, doesn't it? But Joel Miller knew. He knew what forever could do to a man. He knew how lonely it could be.

You were right under his grasp, right there. He could take everything away from you in one bite, with one movement of his teeth. And yet he didn't.

Somehow, knowing this, knowing what he could do to you, only made you want him more. The trust that was there, the respect that lingered with each feeling of his fangs against you, only made you fall harder, deeper, longer.

Your stomach tightened with another climax as you fell back down to reality, and Joel pulled away to look at you, his nose pressing in to your own as your eyes met.

"I'm going to cum again." You whispered, throwing your hands around his shoulders.

"Cum for me then, darlin'. Cum on this dick."

Hearing his voice, deep and smooth and sexy and raw, caused you to come undone, your voice giving out as you cried out silently, pleasure flooding you as your pussy tightened around his cock. Joel followed suit, burying his face in your shoulder as his own orgasm shot through, his seed spilling deep within you, painting your walls white.

His weight pressed down against you as he pulled you closer, allowing your climaxes to calm down before kissed you, his lips rough and cracked against your own.

"Perhaps I should start leaving more comments on your papers." He joked as he pulled away, gently moving to help you dress, your shirt almost dry from the rains previous assault.

"Or I could just keep coming back. Over and over again."

"I would like that." Joel said earnestly, pulling his pants on over his legs.

"I would, too." You smiled up at him, slowly getting off the edge of his desk. "Do you, uh, have any plans tonight?"

"Besides lurking in the shadows and hunting pale virgins? No, not really." Dr. Miller's voice was dry and sarcastic, yet a hint of charming care was evident.

You laughed softly at his joke, looking up at him. "Would you want to do something with me?"

"Like what? I can't exactly take you out to dinner."

Joel relished in the bright smile that stretched across your face. "We could always go for a walk? The rain has stopped."

He peered out the window, the silver light of the moon flooding in through the sheer curtains. "Then it's a date."

"Yes. A date."

And as you two walked, hand in hand through the dense forest of autumn, and as the distant waves of the ocean crashed in and out of ear shot, you wondered what could possibly be so bad about eternity if it were spent with him. Perhaps you could get used to these late night walks. Perhaps you would yearn for them for the rest of your life, however long that may be.

[rileyslibrary]

“The Lieutenant wants to see you in his office immediately,” Soap said. And when you asked why, he shrugged and said he didn’t sound very pleased.

“I don’t understand, Sergeant,” you whisper as he escorts you to Ghost, “I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t know, soldier,” he shrugs once more as you reach the door, “just stay strong.”

Strong? Why? And what does he mean by “stay”? You have no idea what happened, so there was no time for you to prepare a case against it. You weren’t “strong”. On the contrary, you were as vulnerable as a house of cards.

Soap knocks on the door, and Ghost calls you in.

You push the door open to find an angry Lieutenant Riley sitting on the edge of his desk. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, tapping his fingers on one of his biceps. His leg hits rhythmically on the desk, and his breathing is audible from across the room.

“Sit down,” he orders sternly and points at the chair right before him, “and close the door, Soap.”

Soap does as he’s told, and so do you.

“So tell me, soldier,” Ghost begins, “what did you want to be as a kid?” He asks and looks at his watch.

“What does th-”

“Answer the fucking question, soldier!” He snaps.

“A t-teacher, sir.”

“A teacher, huh?” He contemplates, “so you liked to lecture others?”

“I don’t under-”

“Answer. The. Fucking. Question.”

“Yes, sir.” You reply and look at the floor.

Ghost unfolds his arms and hands you a piece of paper he has been holding. You look up at the note and then back at him. He brings his index finger to his mouth and eagerly shakes the message in his other hand. You nod, take the paper and unfold it:

“It’s April Fools. Soap has framed you. He’s eavesdropping as we speak. Play along.”

The statement “has framed you” was Ghost’s way to say that Soap was pulling a prank on you.

“So,” he proceeds, “as an aspiring teacher, I suspect you also liked to write on whiteboards?” He asks and checks his watch again, “you know, mark things and put stickers on stuff?”

“Yes, sir!” You reply enthusiastically, and he gestures to take it down a notch. He’s right; you’re supposed to be in trouble.

“And,” he stands up and looks at his watch again, “you decided to relive your childhood and do this?” He says and turns around to reveal Soap’s prank: A giant stamp on the back of his cargo pants with the words “BABY GIRL”, written in white paint and clearly visible from space.

You cover your mouth with your hand, and he gestures for you to stop. You nod and take small inhales, then a long exhale.

“Don’t you have a spare uniform, sir?” You ask, trying not to laugh.

“Good question, soldier,” he shouts so Soap can hear him from behind the door, “see, my spare uniform has a bedazzled JUICY COUTURE written on the back.”

You both hear a thud on the door and someone running away.

“What happened?” You whisper, but Ghost puts his hand up to stop you. He’s focusing on the sounds behind the door. He looks at his watch one more time.

“Well, why don’t you look at that,” He cheers, “it worked!”

“What worked, sir?”

“Senna leaves,” he explains, “I steeped a bunch into Soap’s tea in the morning as revenge.”

“Senna, what, sir?”

“Laxatives, soldier,” he replies, “they take about eight hours to work.”

“And you waited eight hours to get back to him?” You ask, shocked. You thought he had a short fuse. But, no. This man was calculated.

He shrugs. “I saw him last night sneaking into my room,” he explains, “I figured if he wants to mess with my ass, I might as well mess with his.”

He walks towards the window and picks through the curtain. “Come,” he says, “come look at him as he runs to the other side of the base since the toilets here are,” he brings his hands up and makes air quotes with his fingers, “out of order.”

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 25

cockwarming - sugawara koushi x reader

word count: 1138

warnings: smut, nsfw, swearing, praise, soft dom!suga, use of pet names

kinktober masterlist

“Koushi,” you cooed, looking over your boyfriend’s shoulder. He gave a noncommittal hum in response, not looking up from the mess of paper that covered the desk of his home office. You sighed at the lack of attention, feeling a small petulant pout form on your face. He truly was focused, which was bad. You had come into the office with the intention of distracting him.

“How much longer are you going to work?” You asked instead, glancing up at the wall clock which read half past midnight. Your question made Sugawara sigh and shrug his shoulders weakly, running a hand through his usually immaculate hair and messing it up.

“I don’t know sweetheart. I have a lot of papers to grade. And some way overdue scheduling. Tch, you wouldn't think being a primary school teacher meant working through the nights. Yet here we are.”

Despite his tired, slumped posture, his voice was teasing, soothing to your ears. You felt your pout deepen as you leaned closer to him, running a careful hand over his tense shoulders.

“I miss you.” You sounded whiny, but that was fine. Sugawara always responded well to your complaints. He was an attentive and caring lover. If he knew how bad you wanted him right now, there was no way he would refuse you.

“M’ also pretty horny.” You folded yourself lower, lips brushing his ear as you talked, laying a tiny kiss on the shell afterward. You ran your hands forward from his shoulders down his chest, feeling him up through his sweater. You heard his breath hitch, finally looking up until calm brown eyes met yours.

“Baby….” He sounded hesitant. “There’s just- so much work. I don’t think I will be done for hours.”

You hummed a bit, staring carefully at him, eyes running down his face until they stopped at his lips. You licked your own as you thought about kissing him, unable to resist the urge and shifting forward to brush yours softly and sweetly against his. You could feel him stiffen and lean into you instinctively, suppressing the urge to smirk. You heard him sigh as if in resignation.

“Alright, sweetheart. Come here.”

You were giddy as Sugawara pulled you into his lap, both legs on either sides of him and shimmying to get comfortable in his lap. He pushed your tiny sleep shorts aside, fumbling and shuffling until you felt the tip of his bare cock brush over you before sinking into you in one smooth motion. You sighed in relief as he filled you up, finally feeling as if your craving had been satisfied. You moaned slightly and shifted your hips, gripping Suga’s shoulders so you could get ready to start riding him. But before you could, firm hands gripped your hips tight and kept you still.

You stared at him questioningly but he didn’t reply, winding one arm around your waist and pulling you to him so you would rest your head on his shoulder, fit snugly against his torso. Then, he went completely still.

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and you groaned in protest, trying to straighten up. Suga’s grip around your waist tightened, letting out a warning hum. One of his hands wound into the hair on the back of your head, pulling your head up just enough that you would meet his eyes. His gaze was hard, his face blank, and your breath hitched.

He was being serious and stern. You felt yourself clench around him. And from the little twitch of the corner of his mouth, you knew he felt it too.

“You wanted to spend time with me. And you wanted your greedy cunt filled. You’re getting both. Now be a good girl and take them. No protest. Understand?”

You nodded choppily, movement restricted by the hand entangled in your hair. Suga gave you a soft kiss on the forehead, placing your head back in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. You bit your lip when he shifted forward slightly to pick up his pen. Then, all was still.

The sounds of pen scratching on paper was the only thing echoing in your mind as it got more and more hazy. The tick, tick, tick of the wall clock seemed to be an amplified sound, or maybe it was just you, getting more and more hypersensitive as the time passed, focus acutely directed at the stretch of your weeping pussy, feeling how you leaked all over Suga’s cock, juices probably running down his balls and ruining his pants. You would clench involuntarily every time Suga shifted slightly, earning a gentle squeeze at your hips where one of his hands had taken permanent residence. Your eyelids grew heavy as the minutes ticked by, as Suga’s girth remained tucked snugly inside you, continually kept hard by the little shifts and squeezes of fluttering walls.

You felt your whole body relax into your boyfriend slowly, surrounded by his soft warmth and comforting touch. To be connected to him so intimately while he just carried on with mundane work tasks sent a gentle shiver down your body. You let your eyes fall shut, lured into the wonderful feeling of safety that came with being so close to him.

You couldn’t remember how long you two stayed like that, your mind jumbled and fogged at the sensations around you, inside you. Your core felt sore, stretched so good for so long. You only jolted slightly when Suga finally sighed and leaned back, groaning a bit when his cock nudged into your sweet spot. A small, sleepy cry escaped your lips.

“So patient.” Suga praised, careful fingers running over your sides, soothing you. “You did so well, sweetheart.” His voice was butter. “Would you like a reward now?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, hand snaking between your bodies and into your shorts to find your clit, rubbing it in fast, tight circles.

After hours of wonderful stimulation, it took maybe four minutes for him to make you cry and shake on him, twitching and shuddering on his cock as your long awaited orgasm finally ran through your body like sweet release. Suga hummed and praised you through it, fingers moving insistently over your tiny bud until he had milked everything out of you, calling you his good girl, his obedient little whore, his perfect, pretty cocksleeve.

“You’re so perfect, my love. So beautiful. Taking exactly what I give you and not complaining about it. You trust me so much, don’t you? Good little slut. My perfect princess.”

You keened and snuggled closer to him, finally letting the lingering trails of unconsciousness take hold of you, safe in your boyfriend’s arms, knowing he would take care of your body and put you to bed while you were out like a light.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[cherryredstars]

Hello cherry

This is the first time I have asked you something, I would like it to be something like Miguel being a teacher with a female student reader. With NSFW, I'm ovulating please

I know you will know how to do it very well

Have a nice day nena

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut with Slight Plot, Student/Teacher Relationship, Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Fingering, Degradation, Praise, Spanking, Squirting

Summary: You needed extra help, right?

Word Count: 2K (Not Edited)

Both of you knew you didn’t need the extra help. 

Miguel had been surprised when he had seen your name in the afterschool tutoring sign up sheet. He didn’t need to open up his gradebook to know you were one of the striving students in his class, getting high Bs to As on his assignments and exams. At first, he thought it was a mistake. That was quickly disproved the more he paid attention to you in class. 

You always sat front and center, pushing your body up against the table so your breasts were on display. Your eyes tracked his every movement, either giving him innocent doe eyes or half-lidded beauties. Your hands are always playing with something, let it be your hair, a pencil, or your lip. God those lips. He was sure you had an oral fixation. How else would you explain the way you bit the end of your pens, fingers, your own lips whenever he talks? You’re naive if you think he misses the fleeting glances you make up and down his figure as he paces around the room. Stupid if you think he misses the extra seconds you spend on his crotch. 

He definitely doesn’t miss the way you strut into his office, clothes skin tight and bordering on inappropriate. His eyes instantly zero in every time you try to tug your clothes down, revealing more of your cleavage or just shy of showing the band of your panties before the fabric rises up again. You let out small huffs, a pout on your glossy lips as if you didn’t do this to yourself. As if you didn’t plan this because you knew you were gonna have him all to yourself for an hour or two. Naughty, naughty girl.

But also oh-so-sweet, especially when your pretty cunt clamps so tightly onto his fingers. As much as he likes you sitting in the front of the class, he might just consider permanently moving your seat to his lap. You’re just so pretty, your back pressed against his front with your legs spread over his own. He almost misses your stuttering words over the sound of your squelching hole as you try to answer the questions he whispers into your ears. You never knew Miguel to be so impatient until now. Not until he gives harsh slaps to your throbbing clit when you get the answer wrong or take too long to respond. Every slap makes your hips jolt in pleasure and if he didn’t know any better, Miguel would have thought you were answering wrong on purpose. 

“Come on, chica. It’s an easy one, you got it right on the past assignment. Don’t be an airhead, now.” 

The words are said softly into your ear, but the condescending smile on his face makes you whimper in embarrassment. A deep flush covers your face and you try to recall the answer. But it’s just too hard. The words get more and more jumbled in your mind the more Miguel keeps pumping his thick fingers into you. His blunt nails scrape your gummy walls perfectly and you can’t escape the urge to throw your head back in pleasure. A pleased moan leaves your plump lips, slightly grinding against his hand. 

The sound almost immediately turns into a sharp gasp when Miguel’s hand comes in contact with your cheek. Your head whips to the side from the force, only to have it yanked forward and pointed towards the review material on his desk. The hand that he used to slap you squishes your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker up and muffle your noises. Miguel leans forward and presses up against your back, his breath tickles your ear and his fingers slow the slightest bit. 

“Pay attention. How am I supposed to help you if you don't cooperate, hm?” Miguel snarls, nipping at your earlobe. 

You try to respond, trying to apologize, but all that comes out is a drawn out whine. Miguel simply chuckles, mumbling ‘stupid slut’ as his hand slides down to your face to your neck. Your moan is more audible this time, and Miguel hisses as you clench around his fingers the same time he applies the tiniest bit of pressure to your neck. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pumps his fingers faster, pressing right below the perfect spot. It’s enough to do you in, hips jerking up as clear liquid gushes out of you. 

Miguel completely ignores it, pretending he doesn’t feel the wetness of his button-up sleeve or the splattering on his slacks. His fingers still work you through your orgasm, your protests falling onto deaf ears. “Go on, read the paragraph. What does it say, chica?”

You can’t even attempt to read it, the words an unfocused mess as your mind tries to come down from your orgasm. All you can do is whine, trying to squirm away from his hold and mumbling out ‘don’t know’ repeatedly. You barely register Miguel’s tsk of disappointment before his fingers disappear from inside you. His hand creeps into your hair, and a pleased sigh escapes you as your body gets the chance to relax. His hand is gentle, massaging your scalp until his hold suddenly tightens.

 “Maybe you need a closer look then, yeah?”

A yelp leaves you as he sharply tugs at your hair, forcing the side of your face to press into the papers and workbooks on his desk. Some of the pages crinkle as he forces you to balance on your legs. You faintly hear the rolling of his chair as it hits the wall, Miguel standing behind you and working at his belt. A shiver runs down your body when you feel his head slide against your folds, hands bracing on the edge of the desk to stop yourself from falling to the floor. 

“How about now? Can you read it?”

You don’t get the time to respond, a loud moan parting from your lips as he pushes into you. It burns slightly from his size, even with all the time he spent loosening your cunt. Your eyes and hands squeeze shut, trying to work through the intrusion. You can feel every inch he slides in, swearing you can feel the throb of a thick vein against your walls. Miguel hisses at your tightness, his hand wrapping around to play with your clit in an effort to relax you. It takes a moment, but your walls give away the slightest bit. It’s just enough for him to bottom out, both of your groaning as his head rubs against that spongy spot inside you. He slowly slides out before snapping his hips forward again, shifting you higher up onto the desk. 

More whines and whimpers leave you as you try to push back into him. But after a few more thrusts, he pulls out so his tip is the only thing in you. His grip on your hips is tight, preventing you from moving. A frustrated noise leaves you, but it's quieted by the slap he lands onto your ass. He massages the red spot, humming to himself. “Let’s make a deal, yeah? If you can answer this last question correctly, I’ll reward you.”

Your eyes sluggishly follow his finger as it comes into view. He grabs one of the worksheets, repositioning you on the desk so you rest on your elbows. He slides the paper in front of you, tapping at the number in front of the problem he wants you to answer. You want to cry, seeing the length of the worded problem. You can barely make out the numbers written down, your luck of even remembering the equation you need to solve it is a big fat zero. But, you really, really want to cum. So, you hesitantly nod in response. 

“Good girl.” Miguel praises, slowly pushing back into you again and continuing his thrusts.

You try to take deep breaths, trying to calm down your mind as you reach for the discarded pencil on his desk. You have to blink a few times, finding it difficult to get the words in focus between your distracted mind and the jolting of your body with each of Miguel’s thrust. Your hand tightens on the pencil so much you think you might break it. Your eyes scan the first few sentences three times, trying to comprehend what it's saying as you read on. Your handwriting is shaky as you try to solve the problem, the pencil sharply jerking upwards with some thrusts. When you try to steady yourself, the tip of the pencil breaks and you cry out. 

Your head falls to the desk, body trembling with your upcoming orgasm, “I-I can’t. Mr. O’Hara I can’t.” 

Your whines are absolutely pathetic, even to your own ears. Miguel leans over your shoulder, observing your shaky work before cooing in your ear. “Yes you can. You’re so close, just focus a bit harder, baby.”

You let a frustrated whine before picking your head up again. You look over your work again, trying to remember where you left off. With a few more stuttery strokes, you draw a wonky circle around your answer before letting the pencil roll away from you. You slide the paper to the slide so Miguel can check your answer, collapsing in the spot it used to be. Your head is turned to the side again, watching Miguel's finger trace over the work. A triumphed whimper leaves you when he hums in satisfaction. 

“There you go, that’s my smart girl. Knew you could do it.” 

A happy sigh leaves you at his praise, burying your head into your arms to hide the dorky smile that overcomes your face. The smile doesn’t last long when Miguel speeds up his thrusts, going harder and faster than he did before. Your head snaps up, moan after moan leaving you as your body begins to shake. When his finger flicks at your clit, your body falls lax as you finish. Miguel isn’t far behind, emptying himself into you. Both of you take a minute to calm down before he slides out with a hiss. 

You take another minute to yourself before slowly standing up. Your legs are still wobbly, but they regain balance after a few minutes. You startle slightly when Miguel’s hand comes into your peripheral, your panties dangling from his fingers. You blush, letting out a quiet thank you before you slide them back on. You help Miguel clean off his desk quietly, glancing at his figure from time to time. When you’re done, you clear your throat to say the last of your thanks before leaving. Before you can go, Miguel calls out to you. 

You turn hesitantly, watching as he slides one of his coats from the coat rack and motioning you forward. You walk hesitantly towards him, letting him move your limbs as he slides the coat over your small form.  “Keep this on until you get back to your dorm. Don’t want anyone to see what’s mine.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says it, keeping his eyes focused on buttoning up the coat. A roaring blush spreads across your face and you nod, whispering a small agreement as you let the warmth of it snuggle against your skin. When his eyes meet yours, they’re soft and warm. His hand grabs a hold of your cheeks again, puckering them up perfectly for the kiss he lays on them. When he pulls away, your mind is still buzzing with delight as he looks at the clock over the door. 

“Office hours are over. Get home safe, yeah? Don’t be late to class tomorrow.” 

He ushers you out of his office shortly after, another fleeting kiss on your lips as the door shuts behind you. You stand there in a daze before a wide smile spreads on your face. You tug Miguel’s coat tighter around you and make your way back to your dorm. 

Hopefully, your grade in performance was an A+.

THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I SCREAMED WRITING THIS!!

[proxima-writes]

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes. 

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York. 

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly. 

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?” 

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order. 

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you. 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you. 

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output. 

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years. 

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming. 

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor. 

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom. 

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on. 

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer. 

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space. 

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him. 

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips? 

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail. 

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks. 

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.” 

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis. 

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks. 

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins. 

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box. 

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm. 

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you. 

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom. 

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies. 

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp. 

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel. 

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body. 

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast. 

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls. 

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.” 

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded. 

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

[octuscle]

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

So Much To Teach

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: quite a few; dom Spencer kinda, oral (f receiving), age gap; reader is 21+ but it's a lil dubious by default bc he's her professor and therefore an authority figure but shhhh its fine shhhh, fingering, marking a little bit, p in v sex, they both talking diiiiirty, minor praise, risky sex, multiple orgasms, edging- I think I got everything??

Genre: Smut

Summary: You want your professor's attention but you had no idea what would happen if you got it- you also had no idea you'd get it by talking to a classmate

Part 2

***

Professor Reid is by far your favorite teacher ever and you make sure to make it as obvious as you can get away with. You're always early to his class, you sit in the front row, ask questions as often as you can, take full advantage of his office hours- all of it. You're determined to make Spencer Reid think of you as often as you think of him. Unbeknownst to you, you didn't need to put so much effort into capturing his attention. Not that you'd ever be able to tell, Spencer is always the epitome of professionalism. Well, almost always. He's human after all and you- you might as well be a siren. On the days you come in wearing your shortest skirts, toying with the hem absentmindedly, it's practically impossible for him to keep his gaze above your desk. He's not careless though, only allowing himself to stare when he's not the focus, during exams for example. He especially loves presentation days because he can spend them shamelessly eye-fucking you while you're busy addressing the class. You never seem to notice the way his attention drifts to you, and he's counting his lucky stars for it. He's plenty aware of the implications of his little crush. He wouldn't be so stupid as to make a move on you, especially while you're still his student. Spencer has spent more than enough time convincing himself that the risks outweigh the reward. For now, he'll have to be content watching you from a distance, even when you saunter into his office in your tight blouses to discuss your homework. On those days he knows the memory of your boobs practically spilling out of those shirts will keep him up for at least another hour later that night.

Weeks of your silent game that you're sure he's not actually picking up on have you growing bored of focusing only on getting his attention. Sure you want him to think about you, but you're not so crazy to think he'd risk his job to say, bend you over his office desk like you so desperately wish he would every time you go in there. You're young and in college and while the boys here do not hold your attention the same way, you're not above a little distraction. Which is why today you walk into class chatting with another student, a guy named Matt who has been trying to get you to notice him for a while now. Professor Reid isn't in the class yet and you hop on top of your desk as you talk to Matt about some sports thing. You're not totally following but he's cute so you giggle and pretend you get it, swinging your legs and batting your eyelashes in the way you know college boys respond so well to. You hardly even notice Spencer enter the classroom, but he zeros in immediately on the sight of you smiling at some kid. Matt's a good student, Spencer really has nothing against him, but he rolls his eyes at the two of you knowing that Matt would never be able to keep up with you.

"Quiet down everyone. Miss y/n your butt belongs in a seat, not on a desk and Mister Lewis I suggest you find somewhere to sit as well so we can begin." Spencer addresses you and Matt sharply, catching you off guard. He's never spoken to you that way but you can't help the amused look on your face as you mutter an affirmative and hop off the desk to sit in your chair. Maybe something's going on that put him in a bad mood. The class goes by smoothly after that and Matt is at your desk as soon as Spencer dismisses you all. Spencer has to turn his back to the room to hide the way his face twists up watching you.

The next class again, you walk in with Matt, this time Spencer is there already so you sit directly in your seat but Matt stays and talks to you while you wait for class to officially start. Spencer has to tamp his desire to break the conversation up for no reason until enough students pile in that he begins the lesson. This goes on for two more sessions, you walk in with Matt, twirling your hair, giggling at him, flaunting your gorgeous figure in flattering outfits that he openly gawks at you in, all while Spencer tries to keep himself from the edge of insanity. He has no right to be so put out by this, you're a student for crying out loud. He tries to remember that, tries hard to keep himself in check even as Matt basically invades your personal space as you're sitting on your desk before class again. You let him get entirely too close for Spencer's liking and when he sees you lean forward he can't stop himself from interrupting.

"Miss y/n." Spencer drawls out in a way that makes you want to shiver. "I've already told you desktops are not for sitting. Don't make me tell you again." Spencer says effectively ruining whatever was about to happen between you and Matt. He even backs off to let you get down from your desk.

"I'll see you after class okay?" You tell Matt sweetly and Spencer absolutely cannot take any more of this. He begins his lecture though his mind is somewhere else through most of it. He's busy planning. When the time comes and he dismisses the class Matt is quickly making his way to you and Spencer realizes he has to move now.

"Miss y/n. You don't have a class after this do you?" Spencer asks.

"No professor. Is something the matter?" You ask.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you. Come with me to my office." He instructs.

"O-okay?" You frown. Matt does too from where he stopped when Spencer called your name. Spencer waits for you to finish collecting your things before he heads towards the class's exit. "I'll- I'll catch you later I guess Matt." You say over your shoulder before following Spencer. You try to think what this could be about. Your last paper was great, you know it was, plus there's no way he's through grading those yet, you aced the most recent test you took- there's no way he's calling you into his office because of the desk-sitting thing- is there? When you reach Spencer's office he shuts the door behind you and stands on the other side of his desk. He doesn't sit- which you find strange but nothing about this has been normal thus far.

"Is there a problem sir?" You ask sitting down.

"Is there a problem?! You- never mind. No y/n, no problem." Spencer forces himself to restrain that overwhelming urge he has to yell over Matt or simply split you open on his desk, or in his office chair, or against the wall- he shakes the thought from his mind, scrambling for an excuse for calling you to his office. "I just wanted to discuss something from- your paper."

"Oh you've started grading the papers?" You ask. He's only just gotten to them. He doesn't even think he's graded yours all the way through yet but he can't tell you the truth, that you're only here so you didn't walk out with Matt.

"Yes I have and there was something interesting... in your paper. I just need to find it, give me- a minute." Spencer shuffles through things on his desk, he's stalling and he hopes you don't notice.

"Professor Reid?" You tilt your head at him.

"Just a minute y/n." He mutters.

"Professor." You frown, your voice is forceful enough that he glances up at you. "I know you know exactly where my paper is. And I know that if there was really something you wanted to discuss in said paper you'd already have it memorized. You're almost irritatingly punctilious, I've been in your office more than enough times to know that. So what's really going on?"

"I suppose I should've expected this from one of my smartest students." He muses with a shake of his head.

"I know we're not friends by any means since you're my professor and all but we're both adults and I hope you'd respect me enough to tell me the truth." You tell him.

"Believe me I am trying very hard."

"To tell the truth or respect me?" You cross your arms.

"I respect you implicitly and because of that telling the truth here is- conflicting."

"Professor Reid, what am I doing in your office? I've asked you much harder questions than that in class."

"If only you knew." He scoffs.

"Professor-"

"You're right. I didn't call you in here to discuss a paper." He sighs knowing he's out of escapes. "It's that boy you've been draping yourself over all month." Spencer says through clenched teeth.

"Matt? You called me in here to discuss Matt? Why? Is he failing or something?"

"No. He maintains a solid B average in my class."

"Okay, then I'm really not understanding professor. What does Matt have to do with anything?" You shake your head.

"It is infuriating to watch him with you as if he has even the slightest chance of satisfying you in any way." Spencer walks over to you as he speaks, punctuating his sentence by leaning against the arms of your chair which forces you to lean back.

"And- what makes you the authority on who could satisfy me?" You ask breathily, blinking up at him.

"Considering you haven't even tried to move away from me I'd guess you know as well as I do." Spencer stares at you intently.

"Are you making a move on me professor?" You ask with feigned innocence that you know he sees through.

"Am I not being clear enough?" He asks.

"I dunno."

"Then allow me to make myself unequivocal." Spencer closes the small gap between you two, pressing his lips against yours fiercely. His hands hold your face as he pours all of his feelings and frustrations into this kiss. You grab hold of his wrists as you surrender yourself to the feeling of his mouth on yours. When he finally pulls away you're both left panting but a dam has been broken with that single kiss and your hands are pulling off his tie before he's even realized it. You stand up and kiss him again, fingers tangling in his hair, while his hands settle against your waist easily. He doesn't let you lead things for long, turning you both to sit you on his desk. "I'm going to show you everything that silly boy could never give you." Spencer grumbles against your lips.

"I never pegged you for the jealous type Professor Reid." You giggle.

"I've never been good at sharing." He quips kissing his way down your throat.

"Go figure." You mutter with a breathy sigh when his kisses turn to nips and sucks. "Careful. If you visibly mark me I'll have to lie." You tell him which only seems to spur him on and you yelp after a particularly harsh bite.

"Lie?" He frowns at you.

"I mean I can't very well say 'Professor Reid gave me those hickies' now can I?" You say and Spencer laughs as he drops into the chair in front of you.

"No, I suppose not, but you can absolutely use them to let people know you're taken." He says shuffling closer to you and pulling your underwear off from under your skirt.

"By people you mean Matt don't you?" You smile, amused at how miffed he is over your little distraction.

"Say his name again in here and I'll turn that ass of yours so red that you'll still have trouble sitting by next class." Spencer glances up at you with a warning look that has your exposed cunt clenching around nothing. An action he doesn't catch, seeing as your skirt is still hiding your center from him. He bunches your skirt up at your hips as he lifts you onto his desk and adjusts your legs so your feet are on it, knees wide so he can simply watch how your pussy glistens for a moment. His gaze is intense and soon you're squirming against the dark wood he's displayed you on.

"Professor Reid, touch me- please." You pout at him.

"Someone's getting impatient huh? You just look so pretty I can't help but want to stare." His words make you blush and the restlessness gets worse as he leisurely folds the sleeves of his button down shirt to reveal his forearms.

"Please professor-" You sigh.

"I like hearing you beg." Spencer's grin is nothing short of sadistic but he leans forward and lets his tongue drag through your wetness with a satisfied groan. He shifts to hold your legs open as he feasts on you like a man starved. It's hard to keep track of his tongue, thrusting in and out of you, circling your clit, disappearing entirely as he suckles harshly on the bundle of nerves all with incredible veracity. It's like he figured out how to read your body before he even began and he's got you teetering on the edge faster than you'd like to admit. Your hands tug desperately at his brown hair as you feel your orgasm building. Before you can even warn him of your incoming release he's switching his tactic, dragging you back from that end, still pleasing you but rather than feeding the fire he's simply maintaining it where it is.

"No!" You whine before you can stop yourself when you feel your orgasm slipping further away. His responding chuckle only adds to your frustration.

"If you're gonna cum princess it'll be when I'm ready for you to. Understood?" Spencer doesn't even lift his head as he speaks. He nips at your swollen clit when you don't answer and after a yelp, you manage a response.

"Y-yes sir." You get out.

"Good girl." He mutters lapping at your juices yet again. Same as before, he easily works you towards the edge with his tongue in all the right places, and like before, when your orgasm is in reach he walks you backwards. This time you manage to hold back your sound of frustration and then his fingers enter the mix and your small whimpers become full on whines as he curls two digits inside you just right to have you arching off of his desk. With his mouth focused solely on your clit while his fingers thrust in and out of you diligently, not to mention the previous denials, you're practically shaking as he works you up again.

"Professor Reid please let me cum this time, please sir- fuck I can't- I need to cum so bad. Please professor- I- I can't. Oh god." Your breathless pleas are barely sensible, but they satisfy Spencer and he doesn't pull back this time, doesn't stop until you're clenching around his fingers and spasming on his desk, struggling to handle the impact of your own orgasm. He watches the way pure ecstasy washes over your face with a smirk on his face as he helps you through it with gentle strokes of his fingers. When your breathless gasps become more subdued he pulls his hand away from your center. Before you can fully recover, Spencer pulls you off of the desk and turns your back to him, bending you over the desk with a hand at your back.

"Fuck- I need a condom." He mutters.

"Do you have any?"

"I- no? I don't regularly fuck people in my office y/n."

"I- have one in my bag. Front pocket." You mutter. Spencer reaches for your backpack and grabs the condom quickly, rolling it on with ease.

"I'm going to absolutely ruin you for anyone else." He tells you before thrusting himself into you. Inch by inch he slides deeper inside you and pinned against his desk all you can do is moan at the fullness. He sets a rhythm as soon as he bottoms out, his dick dragging against your walls with each hard thrust. 

"Fuck- god that feels good." You mewl.

"Yeah? You like the way my dick splits you open don't you? Knew you would. You're absolutely perfect for me. Just me. Isn't that right?" He grunts through his filthy words, each one punctuated with another forceful thrust.

"Yeah- yes. God- yes."

"Say it. Say your mine princess."

"I- I'm yours sir. All yours. N-no one else's. No one else could fuck me like this- m-make me feel like this. Just you. Holy sh-shit." You pant out. Spencer's thrusts are rocking the entire desk at this point and you are sure the skin where your hips are ramming against the edge will be sore tomorrow but right now all you can focus on is how good it feels to be fucked like this. Better than you imagined and god you hope he never stops.

"Good girl." He breathes out.

"Feels so good Professor." You whine.

"I know, fuck I know. You feel so perfect y/n." Spencer groans. His hand wraps around your throat and pulls your back against his chest as he fucks you. Spencer's other hand, slides across your waist, finding your clit easily. He toys with the bundle of nerves and your hands grip the edge of the desk as you whine.

"Oh my god." You gasp.

"Let go for me y/n. Wanna feel you on my dick."  Spencer says, kissing your shoulder. Your hand grabs at his arm desperate to ground yourself as your orgasm washes over you. Spencer hisses, your nails digging into his skin deliciously. His hips stutter and he groans, long and deep, as he spills into his condom, face buried in your neck. You both remain where you are, panting in the aftermath of it for several moments before Spencer breaks the silence.

"Did you have a condom because you planned on fucking Matt?" He asks and you can't help but laugh.

"No, I just always carry some. I like preparedness." You say, stuttering a bit when Spencer chooses to slip out of you while you speak.

"I'll have to start keeping some in here." He says, pulling his condom off and disposing of it.

"Planning on building a roster for yourself Professor Reid?" You quip adjusting yourself to lean back against the desk instead of still bending over it. Your tone is light but you'll admit you won't take it well if he says yes. Spencer frowns at you as he reaches into his desk for something.

"Is that a serious question?" He asks walking over to you with a packet of wipes in hand.

"Well it was a joke really but if you want to take it seriously be my guest." You shrug. He kneels in front of you, his frown deepening as he considers your words.

"No y/n I'm not 'building a roster'. The only person I'm planning on fucking in here is you, but it shouldn't be your responsibility to provide contraceptive methods for that. Also I've been inside you, I think you can call me Spencer when we're alone." He says gently cleaning you up. You try not to squirm at the intimacy of the whole thing.

"Oh. Okay." You can't think of anything else to say.

"Let me make something clear to you I'm not- I didn't just fuck you to get it out of my system and move on after this y/n. I'd actually like to continue something with you- unless of course, you have no interest in that, I won't pressure you. Although I can't imagine you can go back to Matt after that."

"You really hate him huh?" You laugh.

"He's a fine student. I just don't particularly like the way he drools over you." Spencer shrugs. "But it won't matter if you choose to see me again."

"I will. See you again I mean. This was fun." You say. A knock on the locked office door stops Spencer from speaking.

"Professor Reid?" A voice calls on the other side of the door. A student.

"Just a moment!" Spencer says, he quickly takes a moment to adjust your hair for you and pick up some of the scattered things from his desk while you fix your clothes.

"Spencer where is my underwear?!" You whisper at him.

"Oh I'll be holding onto that." Spencer winks at you, tapping his pocket where your panties are no doubt stuffed. You shoot him a look but grab your backpack and head towards the door.

"Thank you for answering my questions Professor! See you in class next week." You say loudly as you open the door. A boy you don't recognize is on the other side of it. He must be from one of Spencer's other sessions.

"Yes of course. See you next week." His response is almost dismissive, enough that this other student should have no idea what was going on before he showed up and only once you're practically out of the building do you let your giddy smile take over your face as you walk back to your apartment.

***

Part 2