#college professor au

[wardenparker]

Summer Rose

Professor!Santiago Garcia x female OC Co-written with @julesonrecord

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: OC is named (Daphne Antonelli) but has minimal physical description. Age gap 10+ years. Both parties are consenting adults. Alcohol consumption, mutual pining, professor/student, oral sex (f and m receiving), 69, sexy mythology references, vaginal sex, protected sex, fingernails/scratching, a bit of biting. Summary: Daphne is having an absolutely terrible day and has missed office hours to turn in her final paper to Professor Garcia. When she turns up on his doorstep to turn in her assignment, the professor she's been crushing on for ages offers her a supportive ear -- and help relaxing. Notes: A little collaboration between myself and my beloved Jules featuring a character we've working on (Daphne) and today's wet daydream of college professor!Santiago. Honestly this is just a bit of porn with the barest thread of a plot, and we're not sorry. Also, just a disclaimer that I have no clue how one finishes a masters degree, but it doesn't matter. We're here for the porn, not the threadbare plot.

Twilight is beautiful on campus. Santiago has always thought so, even before he had the letters after his last name that demarcate him as faculty. He enjoys the blush of the sun fading, the purple of the dusky sky fading to blue-black, indigo, then glitter with starlight.

He likes walking home after class this way; a quiet moment to ease his mind after lectures and before grading. This late in the semester, it will be one of the last walks before the summer term. As he passes through the quiet neighborhood and climbs his front doors, he glances up, spies Orion's Belt in the heavens. He thinks about introducing the story next time he holds his Mythology and Myth-Making class. Did he include it this year? He can't remember. He'd been... distracted.

His phone pings with a text as he sets his messenger bag on the dining room table and undoes his cuff buttons, rolling them up. Too damn hot for this, damn dress code rules... He peers down at the message, and notes it's from an unknown number. His students know to text him if they have an emergency, so he opens it straight away.

Hi, Professor Garcia. I know that it's after office hours, but the fact is...I missed office hours altogether. Would it be an inconvenience to call you and explain? Otherwise I'm not sure how to get my final paper to you. Thanks, Daphne Antonelli (Mythology and Myth-Making)

Santiago lifts an eyebrow. He recognizes the name. Oh yes, he recognizes it. In fact, he's called it to mind more often than is probably appropriate, along with the image of a very beautiful graduate student with a focused stare and drop-dead gorgeous eyes. She was an attentive student, responsive, ready to answer questions but never one to hog the spotlight, making insightful, empathetic, and razor-sharp questions. It was unlike her to miss anything, never mind not visit office hours. They'd spent many such visits over the semester. Short. Professional. Of course.

So why does his heart rate increase, his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he thoughtfully taps the phone screen, spelling out a careful, professional text?

Hi Daphne. As this is your final paper, I would really like to have it ASAP as I am required to submit grades on Monday. Why don't you swing by my home to drop it off?

Feel free to call, he types, then deletes before sending. He wanted to hear her voice. He did need that paper. No reason why he couldn't do both in person. No reason at all.

He had had his graduate students over for a spring dinner after midterms so they know how and where to find him. The bonfire that night had lasted for ages, as tipsy grad students who were feeling feisty with a full meal in their bellies debated the cultural implications of different myth origins and the similarities of some creation myths that they had just been discussing in class. Daphne had been amongst the students that night, animatedly defending her points with unmatched ferocity that was impossible to ignore.

The text that comes through a few moments later takes a while for her to decide on, judging from the continuously undulating bubbles indicating how long she was typing compared to the brevity of the eventual message.

Thank you for understanding. I'll be over shortly so the rest of your night isn't interrupted.

Satisfaction. He tosses the phone down and leans over the table with a slow sigh, taking a look around the room. The same old familiar wall-to-wall bookshelves line the tidy bungalow. The same pendant lamps up, tacky, that he'd meant to change when he bought this place... four years ago. His degrees might be hung in his office upstairs, his clothes are here, he shaves here, but who does he have here, really? Nobody. Warm sheets for a night and then no one. Nothing. There was no reason to bother, really—

And then Daphne. Daphne with her slowly blossoming smile that melted from shy to beaming when he said hello to her on campus. Daphne with her neat notes in the margins, Daphne with the legs that had so often been tucked primly next to his as they leaned over a book or paper together, never touching but so close, close enough so that he could smell her perfume: cinnamon, orchid, incense.

"Fuck," he mutters to the table. There's no way of hiding from himself, not really. He pushes off the wood and stalks to the kitchen for a beer. He cracks it open efficiently and takes a long swallow, Adam's apple bobbing. He wants her. That much is clear. How could he not? She was intelligent, fierce, gorgeous. He could fool himself all he wanted, her coming here was a bad idea. It's been a long semester, keeping her close but not too close.

But, he realizes with a jolt, she's about to graduate. This is her final, his course is over. He is... well, technically by Monday, no longer her professor.

"Fuck," he mutters again, this time to a magnet of a catfish, his only catch from a weekend out fishing with the guys.

It's twenty minutes later precisely when his doorbell rings. There was no sound of a car outside on the street or dramatic slam of a door, but when he opens the door there is a bicycle leaning against his front gate and a frazzled looking student on his front step.

"Hi, Professor." Daphne stands on his step with a mix of anxiety and embarrassment on her face and she digs into her bag right away to pull out a manila folder with his class name and number written on it alongside her name. "I'm so sorry about this. I know it's technically late and that you'll have to dock points for that. It's completely my fault."

"Hey, hey, easy." He lifts a palm and lowers it soothingly, taking the manila folder gently. "There's no need to be sorry, accidents happen." Then, as he knew he would, he asked, "Would you like to come in? It's the end of semester, though. Maybe you have a party you'd rather get to?" He smiles fondly, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe and folding his arms to show off his tanned forearms, shirt sleeves straining slightly.

Yeah, he's still got moves. And he wants to show them off. To Daphne. Who is no longer his student. Who's staring up at him with the anguish slowly sliding from her face. He wants to remove it, stroke her stress away with his thumb, ease it out of her slowly—

Fuck, he's screwed.

"I'm not really – I mean, I haven't –" She doesn't get invited to parties, is what she's trying to say. Not that she doesn't enjoy parties, because she does. She absolutely does. The night they spent here at his house just sitting around the fire talking and sharing a meal was one of her favorite graduate school memories. But she isn't great at socializing with the other students in her program, she's found. There is something a little odd about Daphne, and it has reverberated through her life to keep her just a little on the outside of normal.

Maybe that's why she nods, accepting the invitation with swallowed thanks, and steps inside her professor's house. Her professor who has more than a decade on her in terms of age but has never held his years of experience or knowledge over her head. If they were colleagues, she might have even considered him a friend. As it is, being his student, she's stuck in a sort of limbo with a useless crush and fond memories. "I've had kind of a crazy day," she admits sheepishly. "Even if I had been invited to any of the parties on campus, I don't think I would be going."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Daph," he says, with real sympathy. "Is everything all right? I just opened a beer, would you like anything?"

"A pipe burst at my place and my landlord is claiming I'm liable, then my computer crashed in the middle of doing one last edit on your term paper and the tech office gave me grief, it's just...it's been a long day." She barely even nodded in agreement that a drink would be a huge relief, but he is immediately retreating to his refrigerator to grab her a beer. "Oh, and my summer plans fell through today." Her shoulders sag, the stress of the day dragging her down and determined to keep her there. "I'm just lucky I got up to take a shower first thing this morning or else the day would've been even worse."

"Oh, Daph, that's a rotten one," he says, placing the opened beer on the coffee table and settling his hands on her shoulders. "What happened to your summer? Surely you're going off to some incredible internship, you're more than qualified." And she is. He'd have recommended her to any program she wanted, and had, in fact, written her a letter of recommendation earlier in the year. "You know I'm not going to dock points, right?" he asks more quietly. "None of today was your fault, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. That shouldn't burrow into her chest and bloom into warmth like it does, and Daphne's eyes drop to the floor immediately to carefully focus on the toes of her boots instead of looking him in the face. That's your professor. Don't be creepy. "I had that internship lined up in London with the publishing company but they pulled the rug out from under me." She shrugs, feeling more vulnerable in the moment than she wants to admit. "Apparently the CFO's kid decided all of a sudden that he wants to be an author, so they rescinded my offer. He's going to get it instead."

His chest pangs. He hates that there is nothing he can do to fix this for her -- because she's right. That's the cherry on top of an extremely long day, and all he can do then is what feels most natural, which is to lift her chin up with the crook of his finger, his voice soft, gentle. "Hey."

When she meets his gaze, he watches them flicker slightly, scanning his face as he drinks in hers. Her eyes are so pretty. Like fresh honey dripped from a spoon.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says again, and means it. "You deserve that spot, but you'll find something better, okay? Hey, look at me." She had turned away slightly, embarrassed or perhaps made shy by his praise, but her eyes fix on him again, golden and fringed with thick lashes. "I promise, you will. There's lots of ways into this world, and you're too talented not to break in. Okay? You want to sit down, tell me about it?" His fingers clasp around her delicate elbow, ready to guide her to the couch.

"There's not a lot more to tell, to be honest." Two people with two beers steer almost mechanically toward the couch, and Daphne finds herself being seated on his plush leather sectional just before he sits down beside her. This spring has been chilly and he still has a throw blanket out, which he pulls close to them as if to have it at the ready. "No summer in London means I'm going to have to either go back home and figure out my next step there, or find a new place here and do the same. Because I'm sure as hell not staying in the place I'm in now. As if the landlord weren't bad enough, now the plumbing is going."

"Huh." He trails his arm over the back of the sofa, sipping his beer thoughtfully. "What kinda guy is this-" Asshole, he wants to say, but quells it, "Fellow? Any chance he'll back off? Perhaps once he... calms down, he can be reasoned with." He's approaching the boundary of reason himself. He can see it, taste it, the drip of something sweet down his throat. "Beautiful woman like you? You could convince a man of anything."

The pffft sound that comes out of her mouth goes with a wave of her hand, but she does accept a sip of the beer that he's brought her with a grateful sigh. "The apartment is a piece of shit anyway, if I'm honest. I hate it there. It's just that it's affordable." There's a moment's pause where Daphne's eyes widen in panic and she deflates again with a groan. "I already put in my notice at my job, oh my god."

"Hey, hey, Daphne." He puts his beer down and reaches for her, wrapping one arm around her waist, cupping her flushed cheek with the other hand. "C'mon, it's going to be okay, I promise, but for right now, I need you to relax, okay? Can you do that for me, bebita?" They're so close now, almost nose to nose. He's lost in her eyes again, but he can feel the burning heat of her little cheek in his palm.

She had been so sure she was going to start crying instantly with that realization, but two searing hot hands on her skin steady her. His touch is grounding, pulling her away from the edge of panic and drawing her into his aura so effortlessly that she didn't even realize how close he was until she felt his breath on her skin. "O—okay—" He can't know that the thing keeping her from having a complete panic attack on his couch right now is the fact that all the blood in her body has rushed to her aching clit, but damned if it isn't working. Daphne nods vaguely, trying to keep her head from swimming, but all she feels is his hands on her and the way his coffee brown eyes have turned to oceans in front of her. "Okay," she repeats softly.

"Okay?" Santiago nods, his breath coming a little fast. "I'll help you. I'll help you relax, sweetheart. You tell me to stop any time, okay?" He leans closer so slowly, their breaths mingling. He can almost count her eyelashes. Her nose is sweet and soft as it brushes his, but it's nothing compared to her plush lips. They seal against his and he feels the world fall out from under him. Something deep and ravenous unlocks and spills out all over his inside. He barely chokes down a groan.

There is no doubt that this is the most surreal moment of Daphne's life, and it isn't as though she hasn't been in some weird situations before. It's a miracle that she managed to get her beer bottle onto the nearby coffee table without spilling or knocking anything over, but she needs her hands for this. For a year and a half she's been working on a master's degree and avoiding too much contact with the one professor who makes her mind fog up and her daydreams wander, until finally she had landed in his classroom.

And now on his couch.

Kissing him.

If it were anything besides the most surreal moment of her life, she might have jumped backward or at the very least, pulled away. But Daphne has imagined kissing Santiago Garcia far too many times to do anything but sigh in response and open up for him like a summer rose.

"It's okay," he repeats soothingly between kisses: to himself, to her, to the waiting tension in the room. "I've got you, cariño. I've got you now, there you go, so sweet for me. So pretty. Beautiful, smart girl." He deepens the kiss, tasting her lips slowly, reverently, one hand sliding slowly down her soft sweater to rest on her waist and squeeze gently. He brushes his thumb over the soft material and then flicks it open, wanting closeness, to drag his palm up her thin blouse, wide and slow across her back.

The sound that bubbles out of her is a plaintive moan, unsure but wanting, and one of her hands grasps for steadiness on his arm even as the other instinctively sinks into his curls to keep him close. The battle is want versus wisdom, and it takes longer than she's proud of for Daphne to drag her lips from his and pant for a breath that still has no prayer of clearing her head.

"But." The fog in her mind has settled thick and heavy like the arousal in her core, and even as she's trying to straighten herself out she's still clinging to him with digging fingers and sharp nails. "You'll get fired," she manages to breathe out a few seconds later. Her only real protest being that she doesn't want him to get in trouble over a whim – which is surely all this is to him.

"Baby, no, no," he shakes his head, almost laughing with relief that that is her only concern. "No, you're graduating. I'm not your teacher any more. You handed in your paper. We can finally do what I – what I've been—" Shit. This is going to sound so bad. "What I've been thinking about since I met you," he admits.

Santi leans his forehead against hers, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's so inappropriate, but it's true. I've been waiting so long to kiss you, baby girl. Let me kiss you." He brushes his fingers over her knee, lifting her skirt just a little. "Let me make you feel so good, my little nymph. Do you even know how long you've been haunting me?" His mouth brushes her again, gently, over the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw, the flutter of her pulse, which smells delicious, deep and floral, her scent.

His cock aches against his zipper.

"Fuck." This time Daphne groans, sinking further into the couch, and feels herself giggle softly in disbelief more than she's actually aware of making the sound herself. "You've been haunted?" She challenges, eyes burning with courage now that she's heard his confession. Heard him beg. Did he really just beg for her? "Do you know how long I put off taking your class because I didn't know if I could even concentrate around you?"

Using the opportunity of her gently reclining body, Santiago leans in for the catch. "I never could," he murmurs into the hollow of her throat, his hands sweeping her skirt up, revealing her pretty legs, and god her thighs, so plush and luscious in his hands. He takes a moment to stroke there, brush the hem of her panties with his thumbs. "Never. You came in with Eros and made me Apollo." One thumb slips gently under the gusset of her panties. "Are you running, little nymph, hm?"

"Fuck—I—no, I—I don't even think my legs work now," she huffs, all at once tense as a bowstring with desire and measurably more relaxed as the reality of the man she's wanted forever finally touching her exactly where she wants him.

Well, not exactly. But it's not going to take long to get there at the rate they're going.

"What should I..." Daphne's head falls back on the sofa cushion as his thumb strokes her slit and she moans. "Santiago is a lot of syllables to moan."

"Santi. You can call me Santi from now on," he murmurs, removing his thumb from her panties only to twist the thin white cotton things, Jesus, so fucking wet, around his fingers and slide them down, down. He tosses them to the side and shucks off her high heeled boots while he's there, his eyes locked on where she glistens for him, needs him. "But you can call out any god you want to, bonita." He flicks his gaze to hers and smirks. "Show me how much you were paying attention, yeah?"

If she can even remember a single name from his class at this point she'll be shocked, and the cool air of his house on her overheated cunt is enough to have her squirming instinctively underneath him. Her brain has pretty much given up the ghost already, overstimulated in the very best way possible far before the rest of her body feels the same. Although she has a feeling that it will get there. "Santi..." Trying it out, there is a sweetness on her tongue and heaviness in her core that really is just a whine waiting to break free. Daphne's hands have found their way to his shirt front, fumbling to free the buttons even while she's nearly shaking with desire. "If you get to touch me, I want to touch you, too."

His lips find hers again, almost impatient to taste her again. "You can touch me, I want you to," he mutters against her lips, lifting her blouse hem from her skirt as she takes care of his buttons. Santiago doesn't pause, doesn't make it easy for her or for himself, drowning himself in the touch of her, the sweet little noises emanating from her throat, the ones taking a running leap on the way to begging for everything he's ready to give. He lifts her shirt over her head and begins tugging down her skirt an inch at a time, his fingers dragging slowly over her hips, her now bare legs.

Nothing is exactly torn away, not specifically, but the pile of clothing that collects beside his living room sofa accumulates quickly and haphazardly — shirts and sweaters and everything else discarded blindly as they drown in kissing each other and swallowing those moans that make their way to the surface over and over again. With that building freedom Daphne finds a buried courage — not that she is a timid lover by any means, but there is an eagerness below the surface here that she hasn’t felt in so long. When the only thing left between them is the flimsy pair of boxers that do nothing to disguise how achingly hard he is, Daph bites down on his bottom lip to pull a groan out of him and soothes it away by sucking on the same spot as her fingers slip under the waistband of his last remaining piece of clothing.

"Fuck," he hisses, hips jumping forward so that the weeping tip of his cock brushes against her hand and he groans. He sits up straighter, caught in a web, aching to touch her – at least take his boxers off, fuck – but loathe to move away from her curious little hand. He settles for sitting up on his knees, staring at the place she's touching him, watching her explore him as though in a trance.

Taking advantage of the momentary shift, Daphne sits up along with him and nudges Santi backward so that he is on his back now instead of her. His curls are mussed and his eyes are so black with lust that he looks positively debauched before she’s even had a chance to touch him very much. Once he’s on his back, though, Daphne hooks her thumbs in his boxers and peels them away, groaning at the sight of him. Harder than diamonds and leaking precum like an eager teenager, a sly smirk rides across her face knowing she did that to him. “I want to suck your cock,” she admits, gaze flickering between his length and his blackened eyes. “You have no idea how many hours I’ve spent imagining sucking your cock under that desk in your office.”

Santiago closes his eyes a moment. Is he fucking dreaming? Or is his most fucked fantasy coming true before his eyes?

"Probably almost as many as what I've spent imagining what that wet little pussy tastes like." His voice is a low rasp, but he pulls himself together enough to halt her hand on his throbbing dick. His fingers squeeze around hers, gliding over the rigid shaft slowly, with control. His breath fans over her forehead. "You want this, baby? Hm? Gonna have to give me something in return. Come here," he urges, a low purr, her very own siren. "Come here and give me a little taste, cariño."

“Even Kama had to worship a lover in order to find his release,” Daph breathes, having spent an entire semester doodling images of the Hindu love god’s sugarcane bow and bird companions in her notes while thinking of all the various ways her professor could be worshipped.

"Kama was burnt alive by Shiva, sweetheart, and I don't plan on doing any different to you. Come here, that's it." Santi helps Daphne turn in his lap, both of them facing the wall. He guides her hips over his face as he lies back on the couch. Thank fuck it was big enough, for this and more, and then her perfect pussy is hovering over his face, tantalizing him. At heart? Santiago likes torturing himself, loves the thrill of giving into pleasure. Perhaps that too, is why he waited so long to take this girl into his bed. Perhaps that's why he's slow and sure as he spreads her lips, flattens his tongue, and tastes her indulgently, from clit to hole.

Daphne's momentary flash of composure is gone again as soon as he tastes her. Her legs shake on either side of his head, thighs pressed to his ears so her moans are muffled but it isn't on purpose. It's just been so long since she had a man between her legs who knew what the fuck he was doing that just having her clit noticed is a vast improvement. Daphne's body sags momentarily before she is shifting all her weight to one hand and wrapping the other around the base of his cock to stroke his base with the pressure that he showed her – the pressure he likes – while she takes as much of him as she can into her mouth.

When he moans it's with a growl into her pussy she can feel vibrate all the way up through her lungs.

She's not fucking sitting, and he knows it's because she's still, however minutely now that her moans are ringing sweet and clear across his living room, in her head instead of fully in her perfect body the way he wants. Licking up her slick almost lazily, he drags his nails lightly up the outsides of her thighs before firmly catching her hips in hand and pressing her into his waiting mouth, his evening stubble scraping across her folds. Only then does he give her a real reason to moan, encouraging her to grind while his laps at her clit with his tongue, filling his hands with all the gorgeous skin he can reach.

"Sit," he grunts, "Fuck, baby, I wanna to go to the field of fucking reeds with this pussy on my face, come on, you can do it, give it to me."

Come on, carińo, I know you can come for me, such a good fucking girl, he thinks, his brain a hazy lightning storm at the sensation of her hot throat squeezing around him as she swallows. Fuck, he could let her do this all night, but he's hungry for her pleasure and he's so close, he can taste it. Santiago lifts her hips with a final loud suck and trails a finger around her slit, teasing, almost pressing, but only just, his thumb running circles around her clit. With a deep breath he lifts his mouth, slips his tongue and a single finger inside, fucking into her with slow, measured movements.

The overwhelming pleasure of having more than just the tip of his tongue inside her pussy has Daphne moaning so earnestly that she pulls off of him cock with a lurid pop. "Dammit—I—fuck, I'm going to cum—Santi, baby, oh my f—" The shaking of her legs and the coil in her core twist down on each other so her thighs tighten and he breathes into her like he's going to devour her whole as she falls apart at the seams.

Oh yes. He really likes hearing her moaning that, but not more than the way she gives in as her orgasm rocks through her, grinding her hips down, into his waiting, eager mouth, helping her ride him through it until the aftershocks ease. His voice is barely a scrape when he lifts her up, his aching cock swinging between his legs as he presses forward, eager for her mouth. "Did so good, baby, such a good girl for me. I need to fuck you. Need to fuck you, baby. How do you want it?"

"Any way." Daphne gasps, trying to wrap her head around any kind of how that's more artful than just sinking down on him right here and now. When she does wrap her head around it, though, she groans in a less ethereal tone. "Let me grab a condom." Like any sensible, sexually active college girl, she carries one in her regular purse. Emergency cock wrap, if you will. She just never thought she'd actually need it.

"Wait, I got it." He scoots up a moment, digging into the small table beside the couch. From the drawer Santi draws out the foil pouch and rips it open, quickly rolling it on before turning his attention back on Daphne, who's watching him with drowned eyes, eyes deep and longing and still so lovely.

"Lie back, sweetheart. You ready for me?" He slowly glides the head over her silky wet folds, smearing her slick across his tip.

Deciding she absolutely does not need to know how many other girls have been fucked on this couch -- possibly at the end of their own courses -- Daph pushed herself up on her elbows to kiss him fiercely. Tonight is not to be wasted. Tonight is to be a fantastic memory. "I'm ready." Her nails drag down the base of his scalp, having caught a near purr from him earlier when she did the same. "I want you to fuck me, Santi."

Almost before his name is out of her mouth, he's pushing inside her with a low rumble, his head falling back slightly into her hands. Her nails scrape sensation over his scalp and down his spine, and her cunt is licking flames over him, so warm and perfect he almost comes right fucking there, but halts, breathing damp against her lips, his teeth nipping her lip possessively.

They hold like that, frozen together in the heat of the moment as he regains his composure and she adjusts to the stretch and fill and thickness of his cock inside her. The only movement, in this long moment of coming together, is the languid slide and tangle of their tongues together as they drown in the intimacy of feverish kisses.

Gradually, Santi comes down enough to get restless, eager again. He nips and bites down over her jaw and descends on her throat, sucking a mark low on her collarbone as his hands pay some long overdue attention to her pretty, heaving tits. Mine.

When the mark on her neck is soothed with his tongue, he sits up slowly, his eyes a glittering black, his lips parted. He looks like he's about to devour her. He takes one of her calves in his hand, eyes never leaving hers, tipping her knee up towards her head and then out, spread wide for him. He grips her ankle in a warm hand. Then, with a grunt, he's pulling back and pitching forward hard enough for their skin to clap obscenely, fast enough to make them both soon begin to tremble.

The position that he's in has him almost entirely out of her reach, just close even to graze her nails over his chest as he thrusts into her at a pace frantic enough to make them both pant and heave. Her back arches off the couch with a keen and her hands grapple with the couch cushions for purchase to hold on tight as Santi fucks her so deeply and insistently that she can practically feel him all the way up in her throat.

"Gripping me so fuckin' tight, baby, Jesus," he says through his teeth, his jaw tight, streaks of pleasure raking down his chest with her sharp, clinging nails. Keeping his relentless pace, he bends forward, pushing her thigh up, testing her limit. When he's low enough he seizes her mouth with his, grinding deep.

"One more for me, pretty girl, one more," he whispers huskily, his other hand skimming down her body to rub at her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, so good baby, oh my fucking god—" Something in Daphne's mind short circuits, and the rambling begins in earnest the higher and higher she climbs toward a second orgasm. Tripping over her own tongue and throwing her hands up over her head as he slams into her so hard that either they are moving up the length of the sofa or the entire sofa is moving, Daph is completely lost in her pleasure. That volcano of pleasure building in her core is damn near ready to explode and the only thing she wants more than to erupt is to take him with her.

The second her expression breaks and she cries out for him, he's gone. He thinks he's done even before she clamps down on his cock like a goddamned vice, ripping his orgasm from him in a half dozen hard but increasingly languid strokes.

His upper body grows heavy, and with a groan he grinds in deeply just once more – never mind why – and leans his forehead on her soft breast, pulling out of her with a sigh. His entire body is basking, floating. If she puts her hands in his hair again he might even fall asleep.

There's a moment of quiet as he ties off and disposes of the condom, and for a split-second Santi disappears around a corner but he comes back with a warm, damp kitchen cloth to clean them both up with before curling back around her on the couch. "Goddamn," she huffs, giggling softly to herself as his arms come around her.

"Tell me about it," he says sleepily, flipping the throw blanket over the two of them as they settle, kiss, explore lazily what before had been greedily consumed. "Still not sure I'm not dreaming," he says, only half-joking, tracing her lips with a smile. "Did I really get so lucky?"

"I'm not sure how you're the starstruck one out of the two of us," Daphne teases, even though it's through a thin veil of honesty.

"Bonita, I've been increasingly starstruck all semester," he chuckles. "You have so much to look forward to. Shit, you're definitely going farther places than I am. I'm just happy to be here," he presses a kiss to her left tit, "To enjoy-" to her right nipple- "The satisfaction of being right." He kisses her forehead and studies her, his lids heavy. "Do you need anything before you fall asleep, baby girl? You wanna sleep here or in bed? I can't let you bike home this late, querida, so don't even try. Besides, you can shower here, my plumbing is fine." He smirks here, as if anticipating the swat he's earned himself.

"It's not that late." Daphne wrinkles her nose at herself. The protest was just good manners. She doesn't actually want to leave. She wants to wrap up in him and breathe in this comfort for as long as humanly possible. When he levels her with a disapproving look, Daph just ends up grinning. "Let's go to bed," she suggests, catching his lips as he drags them along her jaw. "And when I wake you up in the morning with my lips wrapped around your cock again, you'll be glad your back isn't sore."

The laugh bursts out of his chest with delight, easy and real. "All right, baby, all right, and what makes you think I won't beat you to it?" Santi pulls her to her feet, wrapping the soft blanket securely around her shoulders before guiding her upstairs with a hand at the small of her back.

No matter which one of them beats the other two it, they both know they aren't done. Whether it's a weekend, a week, a month, or even more. This night is just the beginning.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Oscar Isaac #Oscar Isaac character fanfiction #Oscar Isaac fanfic #Santiago Garcia #Santiago 'Pope' Garcia #Santiago Garcia x OC #Santiago Garcia x female!OC #Triple Frontier #college professor au #professor!Santiago Garcia #pwp #really there is barely any plot here #and we're not sorry

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Pose for Me - Wanda Maximoff x F!OC

warnings: au art teacher wanda, strangers to lovers, professor x student, FxF smut involving paint, 18+

word count: 7.6k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1337111732-pose-for-me-leonor

Masterlist

Leonor's wavy brown hair blew into her face as she looked up at the imposing building before her. A college art department shouldn't be at all intimidating, but her impending destination terrified her. She shook off the nerves, flexing her fingers around the strap of her bag before bouncing up the grey stone steps. 

Already a graduate student of the arts program, Leo had taken her fair share of lectures and workshops over the past five years. Still, a new class never failed to spark up old anxiety. Whenever she was forced to draw in front of anyone, much less a group or strangers, her body was tight like the canvas her brush loved so much. 

There was a murmuring as Leo walked to the classroom. Located at the end of the long hall, illuminated by the spring sun shining through massive glass windows, it was the perfect space for any artist. Edging through the group into the studio space, Leo searched for a spot to set up her equipment, one that had good enough lighting to see but far enough away where no one would bother her. 

One of the most interesting and popular professors on campus, Wanda Maximoff, was hosting a workshop on figure painting and from the sounds of her fellow attendees, everyone was eager to begin. Leonor had never taken a class with her, nor even laid eyes on the supposedly gorgeous artist herself. The thought set off a new wave of stress and she took a deep breath, attempting to steady her nerves.

At the back of the room, near the corner of one of the giant windows, a shaft of sunlight illuminated a square on the hardwood floor. It was almost too perfect. Collecting one of the easels and blank canvases that rested against the wall, Leonor headed to her spot and set up the easel at just the right angle. Another trip to collect a small table, stool, and water jar and then she was ready.

Leo tied a paint smeared canvas smock around her neck to protect the pretty dark teal shirt she wore. It fell delicately against the flat of her stomach and didn’t meet the hem of her pants, leaving her midriff exposed. She was glad too - the classroom seemed even hotter as the sun poured through the high windows. The class hummed quietly around her as she got situated. The sounds of clinking water jars, paintbrushes and wooden easels sliding across the floor silenced as a door behind her swung open. 

“Hello class,” her voice wafted around, trailing down in whispers between Leo’s shoulder blades leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Leo turned to see her enter the class behind her and swallowed tightly at the sight.

Professor Maximoff was nothing like Leo imagined, and she didn't necessarily mind if her racing heart was any indication. Soft golden waves fell around her mossy green eyes, an almost mischievous smile on her face. 

"The door says Professor Maximoff, but please call me Wanda," she continued, a slight accent making every word roll a little bit. 

Leo watched slightly open mouthed as she stepped onto a small stage in the center of the room and turned to face them, unbuttoning her blazer. 

"I'm excited to see so many familiar faces, but even more interested in the newer ones," she continued, eyes shifting across the room with a soft steely gaze, until finally landing on Leo in her hidden spot.

Leo’s breath hitched as her eyes flitted across her features, her lips upturning slightly as she studied her. Electricity jolted across her nerve endings, her nerves both igniting a foreign feeling along her body and screaming at her to look away from her. But the pull her eyes and soft plump lips had were much stronger than Leonor’s will.

Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight that poured into the room and Leo could see the hint of small freckles that peppered the soft skin of her face. She would have sworn that the professor could hear the pounding of her heart across the room based on the soft smirk that upturned the corners of her pouty lips. 

"The human body is a beautiful thing if you look at it the right way. Every curve, every spot, has a meaning meant to capture the soul inside," Wanda continued, drawing in a slow breath as she moved her eyes from Leo back to scanning the room, "in this classroom today, I want these pieces not only to capture the soul of our beautiful model, but it should be about your own style, your own heart. I want to see you on this canvas as well."

The warmth exuding from Wanda filled the room and Leo was convinced she was not the only one who felt it. The rest of the class stared at the professor as if caught in some sort of spell. With a crinkle of her nose and a clap of her hands Wanda spoke once more.

“I’d like to give thanks to our model.” 

A door at the very front of the class opened, one that Leo had assumed was a store room, and a man emerged wrapped in a short robe. 

“Class, this is Steve, who has very kindly agreed to sit for us today.”

Steve smiled and nodded as the class mumbled their hellos, a faint blush painting his cheeks as he picked up a chair and placed it in the centre of the room, amidst the forest of easels.

Wanda walked around him, leaning closely she whispered something in his ear, her eyes flickering over his shoulder to where Leo watched. Both smiled, a soft friendly laughter tumbling from his boyish lips as he slipped from the robe and handed it to Wanda. Both Leo as well as half the classroom got an extended view of his toned backside as he settled onto the chair, bringing one foot up to rest on the rung of the stool.

"Nice ass Rogers," the handsome blue eyed college kid positioned beside Leo hollered, sending the class into a fit of hushed laughter. 

"Mr. Barnes, if you insist on harassing your boyfriend in my class I'll have to ask you to leave," Wanda turned to him, her eyes a darker shade as she tilted her head to the side in warning.

The blonde guy, Steve, winked over top of the professor's head and Leo couldn't help but snort, earning her a grin from his boyfriend as Wanda continued to give instructions to the class. 

"I can't draw a goddamn thing," the blue eyed boy leaned over the aisle to whisper. "Can't resist a good show, though." 

Leo's face flared up at his cheekiness, but she gave him a shy smile, opening her mouth to respond before a husky voice over her shoulder interrupted them. 

"James, I am fully aware why you are in my class," Wanda remarked with amusement. "But please refrain from spreading the distraction to your classmates." 

She stepped around in between them and gazed at Leo, who caught the professor's eyes drift over her frame quickly. 

James chuckled, picking up a brush which encouraged Leo to hurry to do the same. 

"That's fine, Maximoff," James grinned as he licked his lips, leaning forward over the canvas. "I don't think Stevie is the type for Dimples anyway." 

A perfectly arched brow raised in Leo's direction and the girl wished she could just evaporate then and there.

With eyes slightly wide in panic, Leo dipped her head and scrambled around on her small equipment table for the carmine red pencil she preferred for sketching out forms, her paintbrush still in her other hand.

Wanda continued to watch as Leo fixed her gaze on Steve, tilting her head slightly this way and that, before raising a slightly trembling hand and lightly drawing in the rectangles that would eventually become a person.

Wanda nodded her approval.  “Mmmm, good start…”

“Leonor, I mean, Leo. I’m Leo,” she stammered, feeling completely flustered.

A soft smile appeared on Wanda's lips as she nodded once, "great start, Leo" 

Her name rolled perfectly off the professor's tongue as she rounded the easel and started making her way around the classroom. Leo's hand continued the sketch work as her dark eyes followed Wanda's movements, unable to take her concentration back. 

Leo sketched and erased, moving around the boxes into different positions, settling on a mid-waist up portrait of a figure. She traced in the sharp curve of a jaw, rounded out the tip of the nose and finally spaces for the piercing eyes that were now stuck in her head. 

Satisfied with her sketches, she picked up a small brush and dipped it into the water, moving to mix a bit of red with yellow and white to make the resemblance of a skin tone. As she worked, the rest of the murmurs and business of the classroom seemed to fade into the background, the only thing playing in her head was the sound of Wanda instructing another student a few feet away.

The sun pressed down on her brow line and neck, tiny droplets of sweat beading against her skin and trickling down beneath the fabric of her shirt. She slowly pulled her brush in long, smooth curving motions, tracing the gentle lines with color. 

"It's beautiful," Wanda stood behind her. She had snuck up on Leo and her breath fanned over her hot skin making her nerves tickle. Her hand came up, fingers dipping against the curtain of Leo's hair and pulled it back over her shoulder. "But you seem to have missed the lesson, Leo." 

"I-" she opened her mouth, her focus pulling from the way Wanda's fingers felt against her neck, lingering there driving her nuts and looked at the painting before her. 

The sultry, smooth image of Wanda Maximoff stared back at her. Leo chewed down on her lip short of breaking the skin and whined under her breath.

Her gaze fell to her hands as she picked at the paint drying up on her fingers, heat pooling at her cheeks in embarrassment. 

She was unsure of how to turn back to apologize to her professor, hell she wasn’t even sure how she ended up painting a portrait of her. Her hands just seemed to work on the only thing that hadn’t disappeared from the room in her mind. 

The feel of a soft, warm finger curling under her chin broke her away from her thoughts as Wanda lifted her chin up to look at her. 

“Where’d you go there, Leonor?” she purred, “I’m quite flattered that I served of some inspiration. I did say it should be your own heart that showed through your work today.” She finished, her eyes sparkling as a tender smile graced her lips.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…well I…oh hell,” Leo stammered.

She bowed her head and bit her lip but somehow found the courage to continue. Raising her head again she looked Wanda straight in the eye. 

“The heart wants what it wants,” she said. “Sometimes we have no other choice but to listen.”

Wanda’s smile widened and the corners of her eyes crinkled delightfully as she let out a hum of satisfaction.

“Don’t rush off,” she said with a wink before turning back to the class.

As the professor wandered off, Leo let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and turned back to the canvas as she decided what to do. She'd gone too far into her work to turn back now, if she was going to get scolded after class, she might as well finish what she started. 

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was some cheesy pick up line you just gave the ol' prof there," the blue eyed boy quipped from beside her with a smirk, as he smeared different colours onto his canvas. 

Leo cleared her throat, and tried to hide the blush that crept up her neck, as she worked to mix up the perfect green to match Wanda's eyes, "I don't know what your talking about," her eyes drifted over to the boys painting and a giggled bubbled from her chest, "what is that?" 

"Abstract," James shrugged, splattering a royal blue into the middle of a tan circle.

Leo laughed and clapped a hand over mouth when it was a little louder than she intended. She rolled her eyes as she felt a smear of paint across her cheek from the paintbrush still in her hand. She shrugged and left it, looking up only to get caught in Wanda’s gaze. 

Wanda was staring at her from across the room, a slightly calculating grin on her face. Leo shivered as her professor began speaking, continuing the lesson.

She spent the rest of the morning sweating in the hot sun as she finished her painting. She had subconsciously strayed far from the lesson and found herself mixing the perfect shade of green. She filled in the rough sketches, heat burning through her knowing that her professor would see them. 

As the green flooded the page, it brought to life the painting of her demanding, lustful eyes and a naughty sense of pride licked at Leo's skin. 

"I will see you all back here on Tuesday," Wanda's honey voice echoed through the class and Leo finally looked up as everyone started to pack their things and leave. 

She pushed the tip of her paintbrush between her teeth, her eyes flickering over Steve slipping back into his robe and back toward where the professor spoke to another student. She cleaned her brushes in the sink, mindlessly watching as the green swirled around down the drain. 

"Interesting," Wanda said from behind her, a hand tucked under her elbow as she brushed her bottom lip in thought with the other. "I'd like to see you privately," Wanda said, "do you have time later today?"

"I have class until nine thirty tonight," Leo left the paintbrushes in the sink and untied the apron from her neck, laying it over the stool as she came closer. "Is that too late?" She asked, nervous for what the privacy may entail. 

"No," Wanda finally tore her eyes from the painting and raked them over Leo, "that's perfect."  Wanda walked toward the back door, "leave that," she pointed to the painting of herself, her eyes dancing between Leo and the work she had created.

There had always been something about the campus at night that felt like magic to Leo. The quiet halls, echoing laughs and the feeling that maybe she wasn’t supposed to be there. 

As she journeyed through the art department now, a little past nine, that feeling was amped up to a hundred. The nervous flutter in her stomach doubling as she neared the classroom her professor was waiting in. 

Warm light flooded the otherwise dark hallway from the pane of glass in the door, a singular shadow cast as Wanda moved inside. 

“You won���t know unless you go in there,” Leo muttered to herself, thankful for the empty hall as she fixed her hair in the darkened reflection of an empty classroom window. 

With a deep breath she forged on, stopping abruptly outside, and knocked before she could change her mind.

It took a moment, longer than Leo’s nerves would have liked, but the door finally opened.  Leo swallowed thickly at the sight of Wanda, who had changed into long flowing trousers in soft pink, a white silken tank top, and her golden locks were now secured into a messy topknot with what looked to be a paintbrush.  This was more like the art professor Leo had expected to see this morning.

“Leo, thank you for returning. Please, won’t you come in?” Wanda smiled softly and opened the door a little wider giving Leo just enough room to squeeze past.

Leo had no choice but to brush up against Wanda as she sidled into the classroom and the heady scent of her perfume wrapped around Leo like a blanket.  She couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted over Wanda’s figure and she groaned internally, or so she hoped, when she realised that the professor wasn’t wearing a bra.

As she tried to catch her breath, Leo turned her back to the professor and walked further into the classroom, closing her eyes for just a moment to centre herself. The electricity running through her nerves was almost too much and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

"Okay, before you say anything, I'm sorry again for not drawing the model as instructed, I don't know what happened, I just -" Leo's words were cut off by the playful smirk that danced onto Wanda's lips as she lifted her head, hushing Leo's stammering in the process. 

"That's not why I asked you to come back, Leo," Wanda cooed, taking a few steps towards her and helping her slide the backpack off her shoulder, dropping it to the floor, "and do not apologize to me again or we'll have to find something to do about it," she spoke in an almost warning way, the smile dropping from her face. 

It felt as though Leo's heart had stopped all together, feeling the heat under her skin as Wanda's fingers brushed her bare arm while taking her bag off. This was not what she had been expecting. 

"I just wanted to give you some one on one time, to go over your technique and pass on some pointers," the corners of her lips upturning once more, as she backed away and walked towards Leo's canvas where her painting still sat.

Leo’s heart tripped, watching her professor float away, coming to a stop behind the stool placed at the easel. 

“Come, Leo,” Wanda ordered softly, gesturing with two fingers. Leo did everything she could to keep her mouth from dropping open as she walked forwards, stumbling over her backpack. She righted herself, a flush high on her cheeks and carefully sat down on the stool. 

She was achingly aware of Wanda behind her, inhaling deeply when her hand came to hover behind her back, just making her shirt graze her skin. 

“I was curious about how you chose to mix your colors, you used more color than most would attempt, yet you achieved a wonderful outcome- look here,” Wanda said, leaning forwards, her chest pressing against Leo’s shoulder as she stretched her arm out, gesturing to the painting.

Leo sucked in a breath through her teeth, resisting the urge to lean into her and inhale her pretty floral perfume. It made her head dizzy as Wanda spoke in the background of her thoughts. 

“Every stroke has purpose, like you’re telling a story in the curves and slopes.” Her voice came through in bursts as Leo admired the flecks of golden in Wanda’s eyes. 

“Are you well?” Wanda’s hand brushed her cheek bringing her back to the present, “you feel warm.”

“I’m okay,” Leo said, fighting the feeling of languid bliss that settled over her from the soft skin of Wanda’s hand. “Was there anything else?” She asked, tearing her gaze away and looking back to the painting. “That you wanted to teach me?” Leo swallowed tightly.

“Well, I suppose that depends on whether you feel like you have more to learn,” Wanda replied softly, “and even then, I can only teach you so much.”

Wanda’s lips twitched, a soft tug of her pink lips that had Leo floundering, her gaze locked on Wanda’s mouth. 

“Well I— I don’t really have much experience with life models. It’s why I took your class but—“ 

“It’s not about experience, Leo. It’s about appreciation. Seeing art in a body and interpreting it with paint is one thing, appreciating the way we’re formed and bringing it to life on the page, well…” 

Wanda’s gaze drifted to the canvas, to her own body and Leo felt her cheeks warm. Her skin prickled as Wanda’s fingers slid along her forearm, wrapping delicately at her wrist as she guided Leo from the stool. 

“Follow me, I have an exercise you might enjoy.”

Leo tried to shake away the tainted thoughts running through her mind as they made their way towards the center of the room. The small distance seeming like it was a thousand miles away as she felt her pulse grow quicker, certain that her professor could feel the quickened pace against her fingers.

A big white canvas sheet was draped across the center stage. Wanda stopped them just short of stepping onto it, turning towards her as she let go of her hand. 

"Sometimes, we need to be in order to fully understand how to best capture the essence of what you're trying to portray through your work," she smiled as her eyes danced along Leo's figure, "if you feel comfortable doing so, Leonor, I would like you to be art for a moment, pose for me."

For just a moment, she thought she might pass out from the fire that ignited throughout her. Surely that part of the statement was just in her imagination. Her breath was caught as she looked up to meet Wanda's sultry green eyes, "W-what?" Leo stammered. 

The soft smirk remained on the professor's lips as she tilted her head and raised her eyebrow, "We've spent so much time talking about how this is about the appreciation of the human form, and what better way to teach that to you than to... appreciate what's right in front of me, if that's okay with you."

Leo nodded slowly at her words, and turned to step up onto the canvas but was stopped as Wanda's finger hooked into the belt loop of her light jeans, her thumb grazing the sliver of her belly between the top of her pants and the hem of her shirt. 

"Leo," her name rolled out of Wanda's lips so perfectly, "You are covered in far too much fabric to step onto that stage," the corners of her mouth pulled up, "besides, we wouldn't want to get your beautiful outfit all covered in paint, now would we?"

Leo gulped audibly, swallowing hard as she shook her head, lifting slightly shaking hands to her jeans button. She slid it free, pulling down the zipper too, then bit her lip as she nodded to her professor. 

Wanda smiled, eyes fixed on Leo’s lower lip before meeting her eyes as she slid her hands into Leo’s jeans, pushing them down from the inside. She bent down fluidly as she did, ending up half squatting half kneeling at Leo’s feet. 

Wanda carefully helped her step out of her jeans, sliding her hands back up Leo’s thighs, ghosting over the lace of her panties before smoothing up her sides, helping her to lift her arms and take her shirt off easily. She dropped it to the floor on top of her jeans, holding a hand out for Leo to take and step up onto the stage.

She helped Leo lower to the canvas on the floor, moving slowly Wanda took her time positioning each arm. Running her fingers down her skin as she went before moving to her legs. Wanda’s hand skimmed the underside of her calf, lifting her leg and bending her knee. She was laying on her back with one leg bend, her foot planted on the canvas and the other extended fully. 

“Softer than I imagined,” Wanda cooed as she ran her palm across Leo’s taught stomach. Her fingers dancing dangerously against the lacy fabric of her underwear. She moved higher, tucking one of Leo’s hands behind her head, and fixing her hair before standing back. 

“Not quite, my favourite art is the expression of self love. Touch is so important,” the soft words dripped from the professors pouty bottom lip as she knelt again, moving Leo’s other hand to tuck into the strap of her bra against her skin. 

Wanda tugged a paintbrush from her hair, long golden locks poured down around her sharp face and bounced against her shoulders. Leo fought to control the whine that threatened to escape her lips as she watched her through thick, hazy lashes. 

“A little lower,” Wanda pointed a brush to the hand tucked between her strap, lighting reflecting in her green eyes playfully as Leo listened. “Good girl,” she smirked as Leo’s hand dipped into the lace and palmed herself. “Perfect, don’t move, do you understand?” She asked and Leo gave her a soft nod.

Leo closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath, listening to the sounds of Wanda flitting about the room. She heard her come closer humming a soft tune to herself as she placed what sounded like paint bottles down on the floor. Butterflies swarmed in Leo's stomach at the feeling of Wanda's warmth beside her once more. 

"Are you feeling alright, Leo?" Wanda asked, as she unscrewed the bottles. Leo nodded as her eyes fluttered open and drifted towards her voice. She saw her smile out of the corner of her eye before she spoke, "I need to hear you say it, Leonor."

“Yes, I’m alright, I’m good,” she breathed, nodding again.

“Darling I’m going to have to ask you to stay still.  If you keep nodding your head like that you’re going to spoil the beautiful lines your hair is making on the canvas, and we can’t have that now, can we?” Wanda purred, squeezing some paint into trays.

Leo began to shake her head but then paused and whispered “no, sorry.”

“Perfect, you’re just perfect for me,” Wanda smiled, encouraging and sweet, but there was a inferno burning behind her eyes that caressed Leo’s form with a scalding intensity.

Every breath that Leo took trembled more than the last with the anticipation of what she hoped was to come.

Her mind was foggy and full of every thought and emotion as they bubbled to the surface through each word that dripped from her professor's lips. Of all of the ways Leonor had thought this meeting was going to go, this had definitely not entered her mind. At least not that she was going to let on. The fact that Wanda's piercing green stare had been ingrained in her mind with her rolling cooed voice all day was something she was trying to keep in her own thoughts, but with every movement Wanda made, it made it harder and harder to contain herself. 

"Close your eyes for me, Leo," Wanda leaned over her and whispered, fingers brushing delicately at a piece of hair that had fallen against her bare collarbone. 

Leo followed the command, fluttering her eyes closed as she drew in another breath. 

"Good," Wanda cooed, "Now remember what I said earlier, about every curve having a meaning that needs to be captured.. As we go through this exercise, I want you to feel that, okay? Allow every feeling and emotion to surface..." her voice quieted and Leo felt the trailings of a wet paint brush tracing along the canvas from her ribs to her hips.

“I- Ohhh,” Leo trailed off in a hushed gasp as Wanda guided the brush in a swirl on her calf, the paint cool and creamy, gliding along effortlessly. 

“Very important now, Leonor, do you want to continue the lesson?” Wanda asked smoothly, meeting Leo’s heavy gaze when she blinked her eyes open. 

“Yes Professor,” she said breathily, exhaling shakily as Wanda continued the trail of her paintbrush up Leo’s thigh all the way to her panties before stopping. 

She couldn’t hold back a whine now, slipping through her lips and making Wanda’s eyes darken. 

“Good, that’s exactly right Leo, feel everything.”

The cold wet paint dripped down, leaving a damp trail over her skin and pooling beneath her ass between the canvas. She inhaled another shaky breath as Wanda dragged that same line up across her stomach. "List your emotions," Wanda's voice was warm and it settled over her like a blanket.

"Nervous," Leo's bottom lip trembled. 

Wanda dipped the brush into more paint but this time she dropped a few drops in her palm and rubbed it between her fingers as she watched Leonor struggle with her words.

"Excited," she breathed out.

Wanda smiled, running her tongue along her teeth and used two of her painted fingers to draw a line slowly down Leo's throat. The feeling of her hands, cold and careful, running down her skin while Wanda hovered so close to her lips caused her body to clench and her hips to lift from the canvas. Wanda's eyes flicked down at the movement and then back to Leo's with a scolding scowl to her perfectly pouted lips. 

"Sorry Professor," Leo apologized, but the words came out a teasing whine.

Wanda continued her journey with her fingers, lower across her décolletage — a cool sharpness over the prickly heat of her skin. 

Lower still, Wanda travelled. Between the valley of Leo’s breasts, paint dripping dangerously close the the black lace of her bra. 

“Do you mind?” Wanda questioned, her green eyes darkened, shadowed and hazy like the deepest forests. 

Leo shook her head, voice lost to the want. The want to please Wanda, to feel her paint slicked fingers anywhere she desired. 

She arched from the canvas as her professor worked the clasp of her bra open, cool air pebbling her nipples as soon as they were freed. 

“You’re beautiful,” Wanda purred, and Leo whined, her lip between her teeth as the other woman soaked up the sight before her. 

Wanda brought a hand to Leo's bent leg, lowering it further onto the canvas slowly spreading her legs open as she settled herself on her knees between them. 

She smiled down at Leo as she leaned forward wrapping her fingers around her wrists and pushing her hands above her head. Wanda's chest rose and fell against Leo's and she relished in the feel of her clothed breasts brushing against hers, letting her eyes fall closed. 

The tip of Wanda's nose brushed against hers, hot breath fanning against her lips as her professor's hands began trailing back down her arms. 

"Open your eyes for me Leo," she whispered lips just missing hers as they moved, "I want you to watch me appreciating your body."

Barely missing the paint marking the column of her throat, Wanda ghosted her lips over Leo’s skin, her breath raising goosebumps despite its warmth. Reaching Leo’s right breast, Wanda paused, rolling her eyes up to take in the expression of desire on Leo’s face as her eyelids fluttered with anticipation.

Leo whined once more, which turned into a gasp as Wanda traced around her areola with just the very top of her tongue, gently teasing, with hardly any pressure at all.  The circles became smaller, tighter, until Wanda’s tongue was circling Leo’s pebbled nipple but not touching. Leo ached for more and almost bucked up from the canvas once more but managed to contain herself.

Wanda chuckled huskily at the feel of Leo trembling beneath her.

“Well done.” She whispered, taking Leo’s nipple into the warmth of her mouth and sucking gently.

Leo's tongue swiped her bottom lip before she pulled it between her teeth to stifle a moan. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire, the coolness of the wet paint only making it worse. Wanda's lips continued trailing down her stomach, followed closely by the wet paintbrush, soft green marks appearing on every curve and ridge that her torso held. 

"Tell me what you want, Leo," Wanda murmured into her skin as her lips skated across the hem of her lace panties, "right now, in this moment, what do you crave?" 

The paint brush moved to dance around her inner thigh, Wanda's hot breath dangerously close to her centre. Leo felt like her brain was malfunctioning and she whined in response, craving the touch of her beautiful art professor. 

"You," she finally rasped, "I want you, Professor"

Wanda smiled, a twisted playful smile that drove Leo to insanity. She tucked her fingers into a pot of blue paint. Pressing it against the palms of her hands before dipping into the band of the lacy underwear that Leonor wore. 

As she removed them from her hips she left long, soft strands of blue down her thighs and calves. Wanda sat back on her knees, admiring her work before coming back, pressing at Leo’s stomach and dipping her head between her legs. 

Blue finger prints maimed her olive skin as Wanda’s tongue swiped between her drenched folds. Leo bucked from the sudden, sweet sensation and Wanda pushed her back down as she worked relentlessly at her clit.

Encouraged by the moans and whimpers that Leo could no longer control, Wanda ran her tongue lower, deeper, laving along Leo’s slick pussy. Leo tightened her thighs against Wanda’s head, she couldn’t help it, but Wanda gently pushed them apart again, leaving two very obvious blue handprints behind, the most intimate of picture frames.

Leo cried out as she felt Wanda’s tongue stiffen and then push into her aching cunt, fucking her slowly but relentlessly, allowing the pressure to build until finally, as if she could read Leo’s mind, she swept her tongue back up to her clit wrapping her lips around it and and sucking hard as Leo came undone in a glorious moan of pleasure.

Wanda continued working her through her orgasm, relishing in the sweet sounds that filled the classroom. Leo's mind was dizzy with pleasure as she came down from her high, but she knew deep within herself that they were not even close to being done. 

"Wanda," Leo breathed, confidence rising as she reached down and cupped her professor's cheek, pulling her face up to look at her, "please, please let me show you how fast of a learner I am" 

A deep chuckle left Wanda's chest as she sat back slowly and peeled off her white tank top, doing her best not to get any more paint on it then necessary. Leo sat up on her elbows and watched the site before her, drinking in every inch of Wanda's now exposed breasts as she tried to catch her breath. 

When Wanda stood to remove her trousers, Leo scrambled onto her knees in front of her lightly grasping her hands, "let me... please" She whispered, looking up at the blonde through heavy lashes. With a soft nod of approval, Leo hooked her fingers into Wanda's pants and the hem of her underwear, pulling them down together.

From her knees Leonor was given the most wonderous view. Her hands raked around and up Wanda's smooth, strong calves and over the swell of her ass. She kissed her mouth over every inch of skin, licking and nibbling at the fleshy inners of her thighs as she reached Wanda's core. Leo's eyes flickered up as Wanda practically dripped down her hand. 

"So wet already," Leo purred against her skin. 

Wanda raked her paint fingers across her jaw and around her throat lifting Leo's chin to really look at her, "I've been waiting all day," she brushed a thumb over Leo's bottom lip, "walking around soaked just thinking about you." 

The confession drove Leo nuts, dipping between her thighs without another word and lapping the sweet taste of Wanda onto her tongue as she lifted her knee and hooked it over her shoulder. She pressed her fingers deeper into her skin, dragging a sweet moan from Wanda's red lips as she supported her weight and ate her out without remorse.

Leonor began circling her clit slowly with the tip of her tongue, almost teasing her seeing just how far she could push her professor. Wanda moaned in protest and dug her fingers into Leonor’s hair, lacing her fingers in between her soft brown locks and pulled her head slightly back green rimmed blown out pupils staring down at as her chest heaved. 

Leo looked up at her through her lashes and smiled innocently, “is everything alright, professor?” 

Wanda raised a brow and tugged a bit tighter on her hair causing Leo to gasp in pleasure, “don’t be a tease Leonor, don’t make me punish you.” 

She felt herself grow wetter at the thought of what more Wanda could do to her. Leo bit her lip and ran a finger through her wet folds, teasing her entrance as she moved her face forward once again, “May I?”

Upon seeing the brisk nod, Leo attached her lips once more to Wanda’s clit, laving it gently with her tongue as she slipped her finger up inside her.  The whine that spilled from Wanda’s lips only served to encourage Leo and she quickly added a second finger, moving them in the same rhythm as her tongue.

She knew when she had found the right spot inside when Wanda’s grip tightened on her hair and she began to buck her hips against Leo’s mouth, pushing her closer towards her dripping cunt.

“Yes, there, right there,” Wanda gasped as Leo tried to keep pace with her undulating hips.

Wanda keened above her when Leo slipped a third finger into her and the walls of her pussy began to clench.  Leo worked Wanda’s clit as she pumped her fingers in and out, almost having to fight against the grip Wanda had on her head but then the professor stiffened and Leo felt a rush of slick run down her chin as Wanda reached her climax.

Leo worked the professor through her climax, lapping up every ounce of slick she could. She moved her lips to pepper small soft kisses on each hip bone, trailing them up her body as she stood. Making sure to nip at the skin of her breasts and ghost her lips up Wanda's throat, she finally came to a stand nipping at the blonde's ear lobe. 

Placing her hands gently on her hips, Leo guided Wanda, turning her towards the canvas, "lay down... please" she added to not sound like she was commanding her, "I don't think our lesson is quite through," Leo teased. 

Wanda hummed, and brushed her hands into the brunette's hair, trailing her fingers over her collarbone and down her bare arms, "Well I certainly hope not," 

With Leo's help, Wanda settled down on the canvas and allowed Leonor to position her on her back, both arms stretched above her head, with both knees bent and her back slightly arched off the canvas. The brunette stood over her professor, taking in the sight before her and feeling the fire reignite in her belly as she sank to her knees beside her, digging her finger into the red paint and tracing a line up from Wanda's hips to the crevasse between her breasts.

Leo lifted her finger from her chest, a soft whine in protest slipping from Wanda’s lips. With her free hand, she picked up some more paint and spread it around in her palms. With both hands covered in red paint she swung a leg across Wanda’s body, holding on to her waist as she settled atop her lap. She smiled down at her as she cupped her breast tenderly, dipping her head and nuzzling into the curve of her neck. 

Wanda moaned as she began leaving a trail of wet kisses along the side of her neck as she palmed at her breasts. The feel of her professor wiggling and moaning under her only egging her on to kiss down to her collarbone. 

Her professor’s hands came down from above her head to cup her face pulling Leonor upwards, the tips of her noses almost touching. Leonor’s breath hitched in her throat at the soft brushing of her thumb on her cheek as her green eyes looked back at her. Just as she was about to ask her if she had done something wrong, Wanda tilted her chin upwards barely touching her lips to hers. 

“Kiss me Leonor, please.” She breathed, “Let me taste myself on your tongue.”

With a small sigh Leo leaned forwards and closed the gap between them, her eyes rolling back in her head at the soft feel of Wanda’s lips finally pressing against hers.  She opened her mouth slightly, allowing the softest brush of Wanda’s tongue to swipe along her bottom lip but it was Wanda who was the impatient one, pulling Leo’s lip into her mouth and nipping it gently.

The kiss was intoxicating, the taste a heady cocktail of their combined essences with the tiniest hint of paint.  Wanda’s hands tangled in her hair and pulled slightly, the tiny pinpricks of pain only adding to the almost overwhelming sensations. Leo smiled into the kiss not even noticing when her thumb smeared a streak of red paint across Wanda’s cheekbone.

They're mouths continued to move against one another, dancing with their tongues and taking in every inch of each other that they could. The red paint from Wanda's breast, transferring and smearing onto Leonor's as the red and blue mixed on their bodies. 

A soft red handprint found its way onto the side of Wanda's neck, and another planted firmly beside her head as Leo attempted to hold herself up. Her nerves igniting once more as she felt Wanda's hips buck up into her, grazing her sensitive bud and pulling a teasing moan that was swallowed by her lips. 

With one swift movement, Wanda wrapped her arms around Leo and rolled them so she was back on top, rubbing her knee between Leo's legs again, "This is my classroom remember?" She breathed, kissing her once more, and pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth, "I'm in charge"

Leo hummed and ran red paint up Wanda's back, "yes, Professor"

Wanda pressed kisses up and down Leo’s neck, paint smearing against her lips, drawing it down and across her chest, sucking her nipple into her mouth. Her delicate fingers stroked her other breast, massaging it and making moans fall from Leo’s mouth. 

“Please, Wanda, more,” she begged, and Wanda grinned around her tit, tweaking her nipple as she bit down lightly. She pressed her thigh up against Leo’s cunt, wet and slick, sliding against her.

Wanda obliged, ducking her hand between them. Her fingers curled painfully deep into Leo’s wet pussy using the weight of her thigh to fuck Leonor senseless. 

Her head lulled as the moan ripped from her throat and Wanda sucked at her sensitive nipple. “Sing for me,” she cooed, rubbing her clit with her thumb as her fingers scraped against the roof of her cunt. 

“Don’t stop,” Leo begged, and she would continue to do so.

Wanda smiled against Leonor’s chest trailing kisses along her sternum as she pushed her fingers deeper into her center. A string of pleas slipped from Leo’s lips like a song as she continued to work her clit with her thumb. She brought her free hand up, resting it on her throat brushing her lips along the curve of Leo’s jaw. 

“You’re so beautiful when you beg, Leonor.” She purred.

Her sounds echoed out into the studio and she could feel Wanda's smile on her skin. The red and blue paint had smeared between them creating a deep purple, the canvas no longer resembling the outline of Leo's body but looking more like an explosion of colour created by passion and heat. It didn't matter who was left in the school, or what tomorrow would bring. What mattered in Leo's mind, the only thing that was left there, was the beautiful blonde who lay on top of her, bringing out more pleasure than she'd ever felt before. 

"One more, Leo sweetheart," Wanda cooed, dragging her tongue up the side of Leonor's neck and flicking her ear lobe, "I've got you" 

Leo's vision went white as the fire in her belly let go once more, a strike of electricity shooting up her spine as her pleasure overtook every one of her senses. Wanda's name dripped from her lips as a whiney, needy growl that she couldn't control and the vibration of Wanda’s chuckle against her brought her back down from her high.

Leo took a breath, chest heaving slightly as she slowly came down, head spinning. She met Wanda’s green eyes, a smile shining in them as bright as the grin on her face. 

“You did so wonderfully my sweet, I’m so impressed, look at this beautiful work you’ve helped to create. Here, let’s take a look,” Wanda said as she stood fluidly, hands out for Leo to take. 

She did and they stepped back, gazing at the canvas, smeared with paint. The colors mixed and swirled to create a beautiful whorl of a painting.

Leo looked over at Wanda, kissing her paint smeared shoulder, “it’s beautiful,” she turned her head back to the art. 

“You know,” Wanda chuckled, “it would sell for a fortune if they knew how it was made.”

“We can always make more,” Leo teased. 

“Is that an invitation Leonor?” Wanda turned snaking her hand into her hair and tugging her close for a kiss that stole the air from Leo’s lungs. 

“Perhaps it was a challenge,” Wanda teased when Leo said nothing more, pulling away with the click of her teeth. 

Together they hung it dry, and Wanda helped her slip into a pair of paint stained sweats. “I’d like to take you home Leo,” she smiled, helping her tuck her paint stained hair up into a loose ponytail. “We both earned a shower,” she kissed her nose and jaw. 

“Is the shower just a shower?” Leo collected her things and followed Wanda to the door. 

She shut off the light to the studio and turned to Leo with a playful look in her eye. “A shower is never just a shower,” she hummed, linking their hands together.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x oc #wanda maximoff au #art professor au #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff one shot #wanda maximoff imagine #college professor au #marvel au #marvel oneshot #marvel one shot #marvel imagine #marvelous #wanda maximov #wanda x oc #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda smut #wanda maximoff fluff

[cumulo-stratus]

Moodboard

College professor Spencer AU <3

#spencer reid #criminal minds #bau #cute #college professor AU #AU #Moodboard AU #moodboard #spencer reid moodboard #dark acadamia #criminal minds moodboard #spencer moodboard

[queerquaintrelle]

TURNsgiving 2023 day 5: Modern AU

“You can never be overdressed or overeducated.” — Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

(College Professor Benjamin Tallmadge vs College Professor John André x the vampire Audrey ~ charmantevamp but make it dark academia, and Audrey playing “teachers pet” x2).

Dark Academia classical: playlist.

An education in malice: playlist ~ curated by @saintmachina.

Inspired by this post by @honorhearted, An Education in Malice the novel by @saintmachina and this fic by @musicboxmemories. I’ll write this fic/RP, eventually, I just wanted an excuse to edit these. Also ft me romanticizing academia, and college, cause I can.

#turnsgiving2023 #turnsgiving #meeraedits #benjamin tallmadge #ben tallmadge #john andre #major john andre #oc: Audrey #turn: washington's spies #turn washington's spies #amc turn #turn amc #modern au #college au #jessica brown findlay #seth numrich #jj field #college professor au #american revolution #vampires #my edit #turn fanfiction #ben x oc #Andre x oc #vampire x human #canon x oc #dark academia #academia aesthetic #coquette #dandy

[loopsisloops]

This is all I could think of while reading A Study In Suit by the lovely @lowkeyorloki 💖

He’s so hot and FOR WHAT FOR WHAT

Also..

if you haven’t read A Study In Suit *looks deep into your soul* what the hell are you doing with your life

#I’ve had this in my drafts since AUGUST OF LAST YEAR? #i could’ve sworn I posted it #he’s so hot I could punch a wall #A Study In Suit #asis #professor loki #professor hiddleston #loki fanfction #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki fanfics #college professor au #i was down bad #rated M #18+ fic

[the-type-a]

Can you imagine Courtney and Duncan as College Professors AU?

This would be unbelievably funny??

Not sure what Duncan would be teaching, but Courtney’s definitely the Political Science advisor and teaches the higher level courses.

College students hear rumors about Courtney’s classes and only the best of the best do well. Since she’s an academic advisor she also schedules weekly meetings with her freshmen students to make sure they are doing well. If they are struggling she schedules appointments with tutors so they get into the groove of college life. She’s strict af but she cares.

What about Duncan though? Does anyone have any ideas?

I know one thing. He’s definitely the type of professor to cancel class if it’s nice out so he can ride his motorcycle (I had one like that in college, super cool guy).

#duncney #td courtney #td duncan #total drama courtney #total drama duncan #college professor au #I like this idea so who knows?

[depressedhatakekakashi]

College professor Kakashi

The professor who can be found snoozing at his desk during his office hours, but always wakes up as soon as someone steps foot into his office

The one who people have seen in the University garden reading various books, always sitting in the biggest tree enjoying some shade in a very uncomfortable looking spot

#college professor Kakashi #College professor au

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

the one set on nelson lake

Somehow getting dragged along on a cryptid hunt in Michigan was the exact sort of holiday Hermann Gottlieb needed, per one Newton Geiszler.

Drafted yet another au fic while my student’s did their freewriting today; someone please exorcise these scientists from my mind already.

"How much longer do you plan on just sitting here?" "Patience, my man," Newton murmured, too busy squinting through his binoculars to answer properly. Hermann rolled his eyes in irritation, once more rubbing his hands together in a futile attempt to try to summon some more warmth. The damnable heat inserts for his gloves had ceased working what felt an eternity ago, despite having been obtained after the recommendation of an accomplished mountaineer. "Not to disparage your hopes, but I highly doubt we're going to find anything." At this, Newton lowered the binoculars just enough to glance Hermann's way, a smirk tugging at his lips and a finger pointing accusingly towards Hermann. "Not with that kind of attitude."

Hermann huffed, perhaps a bit melodramatically, turning his own attention to the distant shoreline, too far for his naked eye to determine any differences between tree and shrub. Had you told him four months ago that the Hermann Gottlieb- cynic, skeptic, man of logic and reason and fact- would willingly be cramped into a tiny boat in the middle of a Michigan lake during a bitterly cold spring day trying to spot a bloody Bigfoot with his on-again, off-again worst enemy-  Well, frankly, he would have laughed at you.

And yet that was exactly what he was doing, much to his bafflement."I still cannot understand why you insisted we waste our entire weekend on this. Or, why I agreed for that matter." He couldn't be certain without looking, but he would swear Newton was laughing to himself. "Bragging rights maybe? I dunno dude, but if you're right, I'll let you hold it against me for... Four weeks? ...Maybe five." Hm. That was tempting. Unfortunately, most points of contention that he had taken against the man had- Well, Newton may be a hurricane of restless energy and too little caution, but he was often correct. But the existence of an alleged cryptid? That was pure nonsense. Aliens, however- unlike all the bloody ghouls and gremlins and gargantuan tall tales Newton obsessed over- Aliens could exist. The Universe was, after all, such a vast Unknown. And that didn't even account for the dimensions beyond the- "And you needed a break. I know your dad's been driving you nuts." Hermann's thoughts cut short, attention fully stolen by the man to his right. Newton was still staring at the distant shore, seemingly unshaken by the revelation. He had spoken so casually, was so unflinchingly blunt, yet Hermann was left careening into a tailspin. It was that- That bloody glimpse of sentiment this ridiculous man seemed prone to dropping unexpectedly. Simple observations and gestures of instinctual care that revealed just how much of himself was Known. Newton had been doing it more and more often lately; he read Hermann so well sometimes that he was beginning to fear that the confounded man had somehow perfected telepathy with all the scrap metal he kept in the basement. And what was more alarming- The observation was completely true. Lars had been pressuring him, insisting- demanding- that Hermann return to Germany this summer, to finally- Well, it didn't matter. That wasn't the life Hermann wanted, never truly had. And despite knowing his own feelings on the matter, he decided to take the opportunity confide in Newton, who- apart from Vanessa- truly did know Hermann best. "He is adamant that I return home. Wants me to take my proper place in the family." For the first time in the past half-hour, Newton properly lowered his binoculars, turning to Hermann with a baleful look. He studied him for a moment- an excruciating moment where the usual rambunctiousness was cast aside in favor of steely observation- before his eyes narrowed. "I love you man, so please don't take this the wrong way, but fuck that guy." Hermann was startled into a bark of laughter; the vitriol in Newton's voice, the anger on Hermann's behalf- It was a rare moment of finding true common ground, especially in a relationship as convoluted and complex as theirs. And Newton making threats was- It brought to mind the few kittens he had kept as a child, full of spite and such a blatant disregard for one’s own smallness that they truly believed they could intimidate. The image only made his laughter peal slightly louder, ridiculous and improper as it was. Newton, for his part, seemed completely perplexed by Hermann's reaction, features pushing and pulling as if unsure what to do with themselves, before finally settling into something like a warm smile, eyes narrowed slightly in fond bemusement, unable to completely resist laughing along. "It really wasn't meant to be funny, but it's good to hear you laughin' again." Hermann finally caught control of himself, waving off the comment. "No, no. I-" He snickered again, before turning with a grin. "You gave voice to my exact sentiments. 'Fuck that guy,' indeed." "So..." Newton trailed off, frowning as he tried to work something out, his next words coming out a little unsure, a midge timid. "You're not going back to gut alt Deutschland then?" Hermann winced at the pronunciation, but shook his head in confirmation. "Not for some time, at least. I-" He frowned, unsure if he should reveal too much of the matter, but this was Newton after all. If he couldn't confide in- well- then who could he ever trust? "I've grown quite fond of the people I've met here and the life I’ve built. I can't imagine cutting that short for Lars. No matter what his beliefs may be regarding my alleged ‘responsibility.’" Newton was offering some sort of awed and adoring look, still tempered by warm amusement. "Wow, I've been a bad influence on you. This is- I'm still talking to Hermann right?" "Sod off," Hermann tried not to chuckle at Newton's light teasing. "I'm the same as I've always been, you menace." "I mean, you've always had the potential Herms; no one's arguing that. Trust me; I know it's always been there. Just...” Newton’s head tilted slightly, eyebrows furrowing once more, his every thought once again clearly carved across his features. Hermann was grateful for it, some days. Some days, he almost envied it. Newton finally found his traction once again, expression softening and words taking on a tone akin to relieved. “ You didn’t used to be so.." He gestured emphatically at Hermann's whole self, ending with a rather dramatic shrug. "...obvious about it. Looks good on you."

Hermann hummed in a detached sense of agreement. He had become more... outgoing in recent weeks. Perhaps being surrounded by so many people who were unapologetically themselves was beginning to influence him.

Some small part of him- one that was still desperate for his father's approval, one that still preferred standing away from the crowd, one that preferred taking up as small and insignificant a space as possible until he was needed- was appalled at the revelation. Appalled by his behavior, appalled by his vocality, appalled especially in the liberties he had even begun taking with his wardrobe. The Hermann who had arrived Stateside nine months ago as a guest lecturer in an American university was leagues away from the Hermann freezing his arse off in a rented pontoon boat sharing drugstore coffee with the man who quite literally embodied the phrase "chaos incarnate." He found he much preferred the newer model.

Thanks for reading!

#hermann gottlieb #dr. hermann gottlieb #newton geiszler #newt geiszler #vanessa gottlieb #lars gottlieb #(also only a mention) #monster hunting #kind of #college professor au #no kaiju! #hermann is learning autonomy and i love that for him #monster hunting au #bigfoot #pacific rim #pacrim #k-scientists #love these funky little dudes #dr. geiszler #dr. gottlieb #i have a thing for hermann laughing and tbh pretty sure newt does too; there's nothing more beautiful than someone you care about smiling #platonic soulmates #if you want to read this as slash that's cool too; i just like them as besties better ngl #thanks for reading! #hello my lovelies! #more aph content to come~ #newmann #??? #maybe??? leaving it open to interpretation honestly

[meerawrites]

A New Year's Dare

@ockissweek

Read here.

Full collection here.

East Coast of USA, present day. 

“Is that a dare?” the raven-haired green-eyed vampire Audrey asked. A most pleased feline look on her charming face. 

Ben blushed furiously. 

“No– no,” Ben deflected, a lie, of course. 

“It is New Year's, ma cher,” Audrey purred. Leaning close enough to kiss alcohol and sweet perfume lingering on her. 

Ben paused. Heart pounding in his chest. He feels rather exposed at the moment, but shockingly he doesn’t seem to mind being called on her every whim. 

Closing the distance between them Ben’s mouth harshly met hers. Surprisingly, Audrey didn’t pull back, nor did she exercise restraint. Kissing back just as harshly a hand tangled in his dirty blonde hair. 

When Audrey pulled back they were both breathless. 

“Perhaps we should go somewhere where fewer can see us,” she said gently. 

Ben merely nodded and followed her lead.

#oc kiss week #ockiss24 #ockiss2024 #meerawrites #meeraedits #oc: audrey #benjamin tallmadge #ben tallmadge #Ben x oc #canon x oc #seth numrich #jessica brown findlay #vampire x human #student x professor #student x teacher #modern au #college professor au #turn fanfiction #my writing #my edit #turnedit #mine #bisexual #queer #lgbtq+ #queue are more than what people see

[kokoa-la]

Ngl I just find it so funny if Danny just accidentally becomes friends with someone trying to rob him like-

___________________________________

“Get up!”

And he was up, hands above his head and everything. The guy in all black proceeded to pat him down along his pockets while pointing a gun at him otherwise. 

“How do you not have a wallet on you?”

“I’m a college student, I can barely afford tuition.”

That’s a lie, he was on a full ride scholarship, but they didn’t need to know that. 

“Oh you too?”

Did this bitch just say ‘you too’ ? No way.

“‘You too?’ Are you doing this to pay for college???”

Ancients, the school system sucked if he had to resort to crime for this.

“Yeah- you wouldn’t believe how expensive my major is, the textbooks alone cost more than my rent!”

“Holy shit, no kidding. Yeah, why are textbooks so expensive? Why am I paying hundreds of dollars for something that could have been a 2 dollar pdf?”

“Right! I tried asking my professor instead, but he said he’d fail me if I didn’t have the right materials! It’s driving me nuts. Like how am I supposed to pay for all this?”

How Dannt started making conversation with his own robber, he didn’t know, but he was happy to finally complain with someone. He hadn’t exactly made friends since he got here.

“Personally I buy used books, and the more trashed they are, the cheaper. Then, you can just use the pdf version but still have the textbook in class. It’s honestly so much easier. Or you can see if you can borrow it from the library and just bring it in for the classes he checks it, then return it after to avoid the fees. That option is a bit more troublesome though.”

“Oh shit, no way! That’s awesome, I never thought of that, thanks man! Man, I wish I talked to you sooner.” 

“Yeah, it’s all good, maybe just avoid the crime after this? There’s tons of online jobs you can do during class and stuff. I don’t know, there’s always another option than crime. You sound like a good guy, just desperate.”

The robber turned friend (?) lowered his gun and sighed before returning the items in the bag to everyone. He then apologized to the cashier and then to everyone else before giving Danny a hug (how long had it been since he’d gotten one of those?) and leaving. Danny was so proud of him he almost cried (again). 

______________

I know it's a bit weird and out of place, but that's bcs its a snippet from a fic I'm writing on ao3 😭

But still, I need more of Danny befriending ppl trying to jump/rob him

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #college au #prompt #dc x dp prompt #dp prompt #college is too damn expensive #sometimes the guy trying to rob you is just a desperate college student with a mean professor who won't let him use a pdf #justice for side character a

[emo-batboy]

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

#cryptid Bruce Wayne #college au #does this count if op is the au #fully nocturnal unhinged madman Bruce but make him like 17 and full of crippling separation anxiety and autism #bruce would rather die than inconvenience a professor but hE KNOWS HIS DINOSAURS #Dino class was my fav one in uni hands down #yes i am insane thank you for asking #originally this was just going to be a normal list but I kept taking from my own experience then said “fuck it I'm the captain now” #one of these was a lie tho...the murder wall was third year :/ #battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #dc universe #gotham #autistic bruce wayne

[phoenixyfriend]

something something one of those those "Jango falls for Courtesan/Stripper/NightclubSinger/TrophyWife!Obi-Wan" AUs...

But instead Obi-Wan actually being a sex worker, he's undercover and still a Jedi, and either:

They split ways and run into each other a few months later with Obi-Wan in full Prude Beige Knight mode OR

The situation goes pear-shaped while they're still flirting and Obi-Wan has to break cover to grab a senator and jump out a window and suddenly this half-dressed glittery Person is batting away shots with a lightsaber and there's a bratty twelve-year-old who ALSO has a lightsaber threatening people with I Will Eat Your Liver if they keep staring at his dad's ass just because the sequined sheathe dress tore in a sexy place

#jangobi #jango fett #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #star wars #phoenix talks #undercover au #undercover as sex worker #to be clear: I do enjoy sex worker AUs both as a form of entertainment and in their surprising weight in normalization of sex work #they've done an unprecedented amount of work humanizing the profession #for sheltered young people who might have otherwise needed a lot longer to get over their prejudices #and while in my case I started on that path of Recognizing People As People through reading firsthand accounts by sex workers online #the impact that sex worker AUs have had on that whole situation is not to be dismissed #but also they're just fun to read? they're entertaining in the way any profession-based AU can be #I'm just as eager to read a sex work AU as I am to read a senator AU or racer au or college professor au etc #...anyway I just realized that the original post could theoretically be read as 'sex worker AUs bad' and I don't want anyone to think that

[ghouljams]

College au thoughts for Ghost. Ghost never thought he'd go to college, never was much for school, and honestly he's a late addition to the whole thing. He joined the military as soon as he could and when he got discharged he figured fuck it, they're paying him to go to school why not? Mostly he went for something to do, but then he met Price who convinced him to join marching band. Then he met Soap and Gaz, and he decided maybe this whole thing wasn't such a bad idea.

All that to say Ghost had no fucking clue what he was in school for. He just was taking classes to kill time but now he's going to school. Ghost stumbles into a philosophy lecture, grabbed it as a blow off class and figures he'll sleep through it. Of course that's the beginning of the end. Ghost doesn't half ass anything, he does the reading, he makes his comment in class, and bites his tongue when another student tries to refute it. He's not an expert, but he's lived a fucking life, he's spent more time thinking than living and more time in hell than any of these kids could dream of. And his professor takes notice.

He gets called in to office hours and spends the next two hours debating the reading with his professor. He has no idea how it happens but he leaves with an armful of books. He's fumin'. He tears through the greats, starts grabbing more obscure philosophers from the library, shows up to class and patiently listens to the stupid arguments that his classmates make just so he can grab his professor afterwards and tell them in no uncertain terms that their 101 class is full of morons. Only to be handed the paperwork to transfer up to a more advanced class, along with the papers to declare a major.

Which I think is a pretty stellar way for Ghost to find out that he's going to fall in love with you.

#ghoul speaks #cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #professor!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #college au #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #x oc #cod x oc #just gonna add the oc tags #just in case anyone has beef with me

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look. 

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice. 

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting. 

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it. 

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous. 

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie. 

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt. 

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better. 

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it. 

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.” 

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed. 

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying. 

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous. 

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close. 

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing. 

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you. 

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt. 

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle. 

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #baldurs gate smut #fanfiction #smut #professor astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 au #college au #bg3 modern au #astarion x tav #astarion romance #office hours #baldurs gate au #astarion angst

[daisies-daydreams]

Office Hours - Chapter 1 (Professor!Miguel x F!College Student!Reader)

Pairing: Professor!Miguel O’Hara x CollegeStudent!F!Reader Category: Semi-Angst (Smut begins next chapter 😉) Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive Content, Romantic/Sexual Tension Word Count: 1.1k+

Summary: Your grades have been slipping, prompting your physics professor, Miguel O'Hara, to suggest that you see him during his office hours...

A/N: Ahhh I'm so excited to finally post this! I've literally been working on this off and on since I started studying for my exams (aka a long ass time). I hope you all enjoy this roller-coaster of a story! Side Note: This is a college AU. All characters have been aged up.

-> Ch. 2

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

It’s not your fault your physics professor had a body like a Greek god and a voice smoother than silk. Or that he offers you an uncharacteristically kind smile every time you tell him to have a good day. Or that your grades have been slipping because you’ve been getting a little…distracted lately.

“…(Y/N)? (Y/N)?” your name echoed inside your ears. Your friend and classmate, Miles, nudged your arm with his elbow. You shook your head and blinked a few times, your heart sinking when you saw a small smirk on his face.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” you asked as you turned towards your professor. A few snickers were heard around the lecture hall, causing you to shrink into your seat. Professor O’Hara sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose and murmured something under his breath. His large shadow was suddenly over you, his dark eyes meeting yours through his reading glasses. You wanted to shrink even more as he tapped his thick fingers against his taut forearm.

“I asked: what happens when a clock gets closer to the source of gravitation?” he questioned, his voice husked as he leaned forward ever so slightly. You felt your face heat up as you eyed his parted, plump lips. You swallowed thickly.

“U-Um…time becomes slower?” you said hesitantly. Your professor's eyes softened as he leaned back.

“Correct,” he replied with a small grin. Your head perked up just as he turned to walk back to his desk. “As (Y/N) said, time becomes slower. Now, gravitational time dilation…” his voice began to trail off as you observed the way his muscles flexed beneath his tight-fitting sweater. You quickly shifted your gaze back to your dim laptop screen, biting your bottom lip all the while.

The rest of class was a tug-of-war of attention, your mind shifting like sand between fantasy and reality. The knowing stares and occasional nudges from Miles didn’t help much, either.

“Alright, that’s it for today’s lesson. Any questions?” he asked. The room was dead silent. The massive man at the front of the room scanned his audience before sighing. “Okay, then. Please have Module 6 done by midnight tomorrow,” Professor O’Hara said. Everyone shifted out of their chairs as they began to pack up. You rubbed your eyes before sliding your laptop into your bag.

“A little distracted during class today?” Miles nudged again while wiggling his brows. You rolled your eyes as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

"You're worse than Hobie, I swear," you groaned. He chuckled as the two of you began to make your way out of the room.

“(Y/N),” your professor called. You instantly froze in place, your feet stuck to the floor like velcro. You slightly turned your face to see Professor O'Hara leaning against his desk.

“Yes, Professor O’Hara?” you asked. He tilted his head down slightly, the rims of his spectacles catching the dim lighting of the room.

“A word,” he continued, motioning you to come towards him with his index finger. Your cheeks filled with heat as Miles leaned over.

“Good luck,” your friend snickered. You shot him a deadly glare before he chuckled and walked into the hallway. You bit the inside of your cheek as you turned around and shuffled forward, desperately trying to keep any illicit thoughts from clawing their way to the front of your mind. Professor O’Hara gazed at you with half-lidded eyes as he tilted his head to the side, his knuckles paling against the edge of his wooden desk.

“(Y/N), I'm starting to become concerned about your performance in this class,” he said. You looked up, your heart racing beneath your goose-bump ridden chest.

“Sir?” you asked. Your professor’s brows scrunched together before he took off his glasses and folded them on the neck of his sweater.

“You’re smart, (Y/N). We both know that,” he spoke. Your cheeks felt hot as your chest grew tight.

“Thank you, Professor O’Hara,” you said. His shoulders relaxed a little.

“Call me Miguel," he murmured as he flashed you a small smile. Your breath stuttered.

"Oh, um, thank you...Miguel," you squeaked, his name feeling unfamiliar as it fell from your lips. Your professor hummed as he pushed himself off the desk. Your mouth grew dry as he lumbered towards you, his body soon within a mere foot from yours.

"I’ve been noticing your attention during class has been slipping lately,” he stated. You felt like you were floating as you felt his hot breath fall across your face, your eyes glued to the way his Adam's apple bobbed. “Hey, look at me...please,” he said sternly. You shook your head and focused on his eyes. His features were soft despite his firm tone, his body leaning slightly towards you.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to see you fail because I know you’ve worked too hard to get this far,” he explained with a gentle tone. Your heart felt like it was going to explode at his words combined with his tender, caring eyes. You clenched and unclenched your hands.

“I-I understand,” you said. Professor O’Hara leaned back, his gaze glued to your lips before he shifted them back to your eyes.

“Good. Now, I recommend that you come see me during my office hours where I can personally review the material with you,” he explained. Your heart stopped at the thought of being alone with him. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“T-That sounds good,” you replied. The corner of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly.

“Will tomorrow at 6 PM work for you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side a little as he looked down at you. You parted your lips as you squeaked out a quiet “yes”. He nodded.

“Good,” he replied. You could've sworn you saw him wink as he pulled his jacket over his wide shoulders, though you quickly dismissed it as a result of sleep deprivation. Even still, your core began to swell with heat as you watched his thick, deft fingers graze over his buttons.

“Oh, and one more thing…is there anything in particular you find distracting during class?” he asked, the corners of his mouth curved a little more into a smirk than a simple grin. You felt all color drain from your face as you clutched the bottom of your shirt.

“Just some...personal things,” you muttered. You could feel his gaze intensify, shining against you like the heat of the sun.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” he apologized. You waved your hand.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you flushed. He cracked a small grin: such a simple gesture that quickly unraveled you from the inside out.

“Right,” he hummed before moving back to his desk. You shuffled in place as you lingered in the threshold of the lecture hall.

“Could you move a little to the left, please?” he chuckled, his husky voice snapping you out of your thoughts. You blinked a few times before looking into his deep, brown eyes.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you took a step over. Miguel grinned again as he took a step forward. You raised your brows when he suddenly paused and turned towards you. You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears as he took a step forward, causing your back to become flush with the wall. Your breath hitched as he cupped your cheek with his massive, warm hand.

"This can't be real," you thought as your eyes widened. But the feeling of his palm against your cheek told you this was very much your reality. You sighed as you mindlessly leaned into his touch. He leaned forward as he smoothed his calloused thumb over your skin.

“(Y/N), I-"

“U-Um, Professor O’Hara?” a voice piped up. He rolled his head over as his hand immediately fell to his side. You shuffled awkwardly as the student's gaze shifted between the two of you.

“What?” he asked, his tone having a noticeable edge to it. The other student swallowed before tugging on the strings of their backpack.

"I-I had some questions about today's lecture," they said. Miguel clenched his jaw.

"My office will be open in thirty minutes. You can come ask me then," he replied curtly. They nodded before scurrying away, leaving the two of you alone once more. Your heart stopped as he leaned in, his lips brushing over your ear.

"Remember, 6 PM tomorrow," he husked. You bit your lip and nodded as he leaned back. You shuddered as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Professor?"

Miguel rolled his eyes and groaned quietly.

"Sí," he called as another student hovered in the doorway. They came inside before asking him a million questions in a matter of five seconds. Miguel blinked before gazing over at you and tilting his head towards the door. You gave him a small smile before hurrying outside, your heart glowing more than ever as you made your way back to your dorm.

---

“So, how was your ‘talk’ with Old Man O’Hara,” Hobie smirked. You scoffed and poked at your dinner with a fork. Miles and Pav were “busy” playing a video game as the rest of you lounged around your living room.

“Hobie, don’t be gross,” your roommate, Gwen, playfully flicked his arm as she slid onto the couch next to you.

“Yes, mum,” he sang. Your friend simply shook her head as she tossed some popcorn into her mouth.

“He’s not that old…” you muttered. Miles immediately turned his head while Hobie burst out into laughter.

“So you do have something for the geezer,” the Brit said while wiggling his brows.

“OHHH! I KNEW IT!” Pav beamed excitedly as he quickly paused the game and spun around to meet your gaze. Your face grew hot as everyone’s eyes suddenly glued onto you. You took a deep breath.

“Migu-Professor O’Hara is my instructor. Nothing more,” you said with a firm nod. All the guy’s exchanged glances before turning back to you.

“What?” you asked in an annoyed tone.

“Oh, come on,” Miles sighed.

“It’s so obvious!” Pav said innocently. You grumbled as you threw your head back and ran your hands down your face.

“Is it really?” you groaned. Everyone chuckled.

“Yeah,” Miles shrugged. You shook your head, glancing down at your plate.

“He’s like thirty-something. He’s not that old...” you muttered.

“So about ten years is your limit?” Hobie asked. You snatched a piece of popcorn from Gwen’s bowl and chucked it at one of his wicks.

“Hey!” she frowned. Hobie gave a wry grin as he plucked it from his hair before locking eyes with you. He smirked as he slid it past his plump lips and slowly chewed it. You narrowed your eyes as the Brit swallowed it with an audible gulp. Your cheeks flushed as you scoffed.

“Okay, I'm done with this conversation," you replied as you held up your hands. Hobie chuckled before quickly shifting his attention to Gwen. They began to talk about their next band practice while Miles and Pav went back to playing their game.

Meanwhile, your mind began to drift as you anxiously wondered what tomorrow would bring...

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #professor!miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman #across the spider verse #atsv #spider verse #into the spiderverse #college au #angst

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One More Time

Series Masterlist

Warnings: noncon, roughness, dark elements, some sexiness in this.

Note: Please leave me some feedback either in a reblog or an ask! Likes are always appreciated as well. You know I love yall and hell yeah, you love Professor Steve.

You lay on the bed, entirely still, dazed into a trance. Steve disappeared moments ago, you can hear him down the hall. He slams off the faucet in the bathroom as his sigh flows down the hall. He returns, looming in the doorway.

Your eyes roll down and you see him, naked, playing with himself as he watches you. The thick muscles of his neck tense as he huffs heavily. He growls as he approaches the end of the bed.

“Baby,” he beckons you, “come here.”

You gulp and sit up. Your body is hollow, your mind fuzzy. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be Jensen here. You’re supposed to be the happiest you’ve ever been, not mortified to the bone.

He strokes himself, still soft, growing more frustrated as he pumps his dangling dick. You hold back a cringe as you bring yourself to your knees. You crawl towards him clumsily. He reaches out and grabs the back of your head.

“Open,” he jerks you towards him, nearly mashing your face into his naked pelvis.

“Professor–”

“Open your mouth,” he says, harsher than before.

Your eyes gleam and you close them to keep the tears from falling. You obey, parting your lips. He shoves his soft tip into your mouth, urging inside as you whimper. You nearly gag at the feeling of his limp flesh.

He brings his other hand around your head, framing your skull as he tilts his hips. He rocks, slowly at first. Your arms shake as you struggle to hold yourself up. Your skin speckles with tortuous heat. The thought of what him doing, the reality, you can see yourself from above, being used like you’re nothing. 

He grunts and speeds up, growing more and more desperate. He squeezes your head until it hurts, slamming his pelvis into your face. You choke and puff out through your nose.

“Come on, come on…”

You feel a twitch. He keeps his motion, legs hitting the bed frame as he ruts into your mouth. The mattress moves with your body as you grip the edge, shifting with his strength. He sighs as you feel him getting hard.

His grasp slackens on your head and he cradles you gently, petting your cheek with his other hand. He groans as he slows, thrusting in and out as he grows. He prods at the back of your throat as you struggle to breath around him.

“God, baby, you feel what you’ve done? You got me hard for you, huh?” He snarls, “it’ll be better this time…”

He slows you as spit dribbles down your chin. He slides out of your mouth and urges you back. You sit on your heels and stare down at the bed.

He startles you as he grabs the top of your panties. You yelp as he flips you onto your back, stripping your underwear down your legs. You clutch the rumpled blankets in your fists as he brings your feet against his shoulders.

He pushes his hand against your cunt, feeling around with his fingers. He rams two into you, poking in and out meanly. You whine as his intrusion stretches you. He spreads his fingers wide and bends his knees, lining his swollen head up with your entrance.

“Professor–” you squeak, “wait, it hurt–”

You swallow down your fractured protest as he pushes inside between his fingers. You squeal as he rocks slightly, trying to loosen the strain. He brings his fingers together, keeping them curled into you as he wiggles deeper and deeper.

Your tears spring free as your bat your lashes furiously. He thrusts, breaking past the last of your resistance and you spasm, screaming as you push yourself up on your elbows.

“Stop, stop!” You beg as you reach out with your fingertips, “you’re hurting me–”

“You feel so good,” he ignores you as he drags his fingers out of you, “fuck, yes, you’re so tight.”

He keeps a steady but slow motion, easing in a little further with each tilt.

“Please,” you sniffle, “please, I… stop! It hurts so bad–”

His nostrils flare as he growls and pushes your legs together, leaning them against one side of his torso as he hugs them with his bicep. The pressure grows inside of you, adding to the tension of his intrusion. You sob as he keeps going, mindless to your pleas.

He bends your legs higher as he leans over you, planting a hand beside your head as he folds you beneath him. He keeps his feet on the floor as he fucks you deeper and deeper. You bite your tongue until you taste blood, shaking as you weep in agony.

You grab his wrist and squeeze, gnashing your teeth as his flesh claps against yours. His arm falls from around your legs and he fondles your chest as he pants wildly. His grunts grow louder and closer together. He gurgles and you feel the wet warmth explode inside of you.

He’s done. Again. Thank god.

You can’t help the relief that eases the horror. He buries himself to his limit and you wriggle. He stays inside of you and lays over you, heaving into your neck. He kisses your neck as his breath mellows.

“Did you cum? I think I felt it,” he nuzzles into you, snapping his hips so you cry out. “Mmm, sweetie, that was… perfect.”

You moan as you lay limp and prone beneath him. You can’t move. Your insides ache and your soul is cracked. That was a nightmare.

You turn your head, tears pouring out as you hiccup. You can’t stop. He hurt you and when you asked him to stop, he just kept going. That’s not how it’s supposed to happen.

“Baby,” he purrs, “I’m sorry it hurt so much. It’s supposed to the first time–”

You push on his shoulder. He doesn’t budge. He’s too big for you to move.

“Pl-please,” you babble, “please, get off–”

“No snuggles?” He whines against your cheek, pecking it gently.

“Get off,” you grit your teeth.

“Baby,” he begs.

“Get off of me!” You beat against his shoulders with your fists and flail, “get off! Get off!”

“Shhh,” he covers your mouth with his hand, “sweetie, don’t yell–” he grunts as you bite his palm. 

He retracts his hand and pushes himself up, still inside of you as he looms over you. Before you can holler again, his knuckles flash across your cheek. The back of his hand leaves a sting on your flesh. You bring your hand up to touch the tender spot and gape up at him.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to– you scared me and–”

You cover your face, quaking. You close your eyes as you tremble, waiting for his next strike. He touches your forearm and you flinch, letting out a whimper.

“Sweetie, I would never hurt you,” he coos as he bends over you again, sliding deep until you squeal, “please,” he pulls at your hand trying to uncover your face as he rocks his hips, “forgive me, baby,” he fucks you slowly, his cum leaking out around him, “let me make it better, baby.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #one #au #college au #professor!steve #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america