archeology teacher w. kento nanami *ੈ✩‧₊˚
.nsfw. ⁀➷ part II
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who’s your first-semester teacher for your anthropology major.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who was recommended by one of your friends so you took his archeology class.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who’s considerate and kind towards his students, and has an inspiring passion for history although he comes off as stoic and aloof.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who laid his eyes on you the first time when you came after class to his desk to ask questions, leaving a permanent impression on him with your cute demeanour and bright smile. your interest made him question his.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento whose athletic build molded by his tight blue shirt attracted your gaze more than once while he explained roman architecture with his back turned toward the class.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento whose subtle eye contact makes your heart flutter and your thighs clench together. he’ll always find your gaze whether you’re at the back of the class or on the sides.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who won’t hesitate to take overtime if it means being able to deepen the subject with you and help you in any way he can.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who shifts closer to you while showing you slides of ancient artifacts, occasionally brushing your elbow with his.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who’s normally capable of separating sentimentalism from service, but can’t get you out of his head. thinking of you in ways he shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to his students.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento whose hunger becomes more and more insatiable the more time he spends with you. his focus failing him every time you look into his eyes while he speaks or when you touch his elbow as you get up from your seat at the end of the studying session.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who closes the door behind the last student after a two-hour long class on a friday evening, leaving you two alone. despite his tired figure, he insists that he can still work on some subjects with you.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento whose explanations are unusually incomprehensible and languorous. you ask if you should call it a day but his demanding eyes tell you otherwise.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who leans on his desk, inattentively misplacing his stuff and shifting his weight closer to you, his cologne blesses your nostrils when his neck is to your height, forcing you to look up.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento whose heavy breath lends on your forehead when his hands grab the sides of your chair, pulling you closer, his thumb just slightly caresses your thighs sending shivers down your spine.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who gives up any kind of restraint and self-control that inevitably comes with the job when he lifts you up on the desk, placing a ravenous kiss upon your lips, his hands tracing your curves up and down.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who hurries his movements, skillfully undressing you with little to no regard for anyone that might enter and watch him fuck his student.
“n-nanami. is it okay?” you ask against his lips, already melting into his touch. you were certainly more concerned than him for the consequences.
but he had watched you for weeks, rubbing yourself against your chair, nervously biting your lips and nibbling at your pen while he taught the class. he had enough of your subtle grins and teasing smiles.
“i don’t care.”
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who gets off on your shy moans that echo through the whole amphitheatre. your hesitant whines are blocked by one of your hands until he grabs your wrist, pulling it down against the desk.
“let me hear you, sweetheart. let the whole school hear you.”
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who lowers your pants and underwear before unbuckling his belt and steadying himself right in front of your entrance, a grin on his lips when you ask for him by pulling his tie down.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who mercilessly pounds into you, holding your hands down behind you and bending your body so your back arches against the wooden desk.
you wrapped your legs around him, pushing his weight forward, asking for him deeper, but the sheer size of his member was already enough to completely fill you. whenever he moved, it bruised your tight pussy, completely covering him with your seed.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who places gentle kisses upon your ear and neck despite how greedily he fucks you. your nails dig into the desk to maintain yourself, every time he thrusts in.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who easily but patiently leads you to multiple orgasms, keeping you in his class for more than one hour of overtime.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who lets no part of your body undiscovered, leaving no place for the imagination when you end up completely naked as he eats your pulsating cunt just like you expected he would.
₊˚ପ⊹ archeology teacher!kento who watches you leave his class for the tenth time, but this time satisfied. you left a delicious imprint on his lips and his hands that he’d think about for the whole weekend. he knew he needed to have you all to himself now and promised he’d ask you out for a proper date next time, hoping you wouldn’t say no to a teacher who had taught you so much already.
© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.
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when you knock on gojo's apartment door with a tear stained face and wobbly lips, he doesn't waste time.
and by that i mean he doesn't ask questions. he doesn't check the hall to see if anyone's around. he doesn't acknowledge the lateness of the hour.
no, he barely even processes the state you're in before he's pulling you against his chest.
and he holds onto your frame so tightly, as if you're his lifeline. though in this particular moment, it's undoubtedly the other way around.
the air surrounding the two of you remains quiet until he hears you stutter out his name.
"what happened?" he asks gently.
"i-i'm just overwhelmed," you mumble against the fabric of his shirt. "i don't understand why things always have to be so difficult."
even though you aren't entirely positive you're making sense, he hums in way that makes you feel understood.
"do you wanna talk about it?"
you shake your head no. the thought of having to discuss your problems evokes an uncomfortable feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach.
you just want to be held, and gojo is happy to oblige. "alright."
he doesn't say anymore, nor he does he move an inch, save for the small circles his thumb is drawing against your shoulder blade.
he stands there with you until you decide to pull away from him and really, he doesn't mind one bit. he's positive that there isn't a single thing in the world more deserving of his time.
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