lessons in discipline, pt. ii
cw: nsfw (smut. minors dni), x fem reader, age gap, professor x student, oral (m receiving), name-calling (degradation kink), manhandling, no use of yn
please read the first part before continuing with the story below. thank you, and let me know if you like it!
Your feet carry you across campus on muscle memory alone, past buildings you've started to associate with deadlines and fluorescent exhaustion. By the time you reach the law department, your chest feels tight in a way that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with restraint.
Higuruma's office door is open when you arrive. He looks up from his screen when you knock, brow lifting slightly in quiet acknowledgment rather than surprise. He has always been like this. Observant without prying.
“You're back earlier than I expected,” he says, closing the folder in front of him. “Is everything alright?”
You step inside and close the door behind you. The question sits between you longer than it should. You take a breath, careful to keep it steady.
“Atty. Higuruma, I… I wanted to talk to you about my workload.”
That gets his full attention. He gestures to the chair across from his desk without interrupting, posture relaxed but alert, like he already knows this isn't about poor time management alone. You sit.
“I just had a meeting with one of my professors. That's the reason I, uh… suddenly left,” you continue. Your hands fold in your lap, fingers pressed together to keep them from trembling. “It didn't… go well.”
Higuruma does not react immediately. He waits, putting down the fountain pen he'd just been using before you arrived
“I'm falling behind in one of my major courses,” you admit. Saying it out loud makes your throat tighten, but you push through - even if the image of Professor Kento keeps appearing in your mind. “It's… it's not because I've been careless or anything… I mean, maybe I have been, at least partly... but mostly because I've been stretched thinner than I expected.”
He exhales quietly through his nose, gaze sharpening in a way that isn't judgmental, only analytical. Like he was itching to just tell you that this problem could've been prevented from the get-go.
“I told you,” he says calmly, “that if this internship ever interfered with your studies, we would adjust.”
“I know,” you say. “That's why… I'm here now. I should have said something sooner.”
Then, carefully, “What are you asking for?”
You lift your eyes to meet his. “For the next few weeks, I need a reduced workload. Fewer evening events. Earlier cutoffs, if possible. Just until I stabilize.”
Higuruma leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. He studies you with the same precision he uses when reviewing a case file, but there is something softer threaded through it now.
“Did your professor suggest this?” he asks.
“No,” you answer honestly. “This is my decision.”
Another silence. This one feels different - almost considered.
“I can restructure your assignments,” he says at last. “No conventions for the remainder of the month. You'll stay strictly within office hours. Anything that runs late will be reassigned. For now, that is the best I can do. I can't be offering unfair treatment to you just because another professor gave you a dressing down.”
Relief loosens something in your chest before you can stop it. “Thank you,” you say quietly.
Higuruma watches you for a moment longer, then adds, “You're doing well here. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. And don't mistake endurance for obligation.”
The words land heavier than you expect.
You nod, standing as the meeting concludes, feeling steadier than you did an hour ago. As you reach the door, his voice stops you once more.
“Where are you going?” He asks, reaching for an envelope at the side of his mahogany table. You recognize it as the same envelope which held the contract about being a teacher's assistant. The contract he wanted you to review and sign, if it piques your interest, as he so offered it earlier. “Was your request an indirect rejection of my offer?”
You shook your head no. You totally forgot about it at that point, with your heart still pounding heavily. You weren't even sure if you were in the right headspace to accept the position. Your brain was completely filled with the lingering fear of failing your economics course, as well as the impending doom of having to face Professor Kento by next week.
“Don't worry,” he says, as if he already knew you wouldn't be able to decide at all at that moment. “You can just review it right now and decide some other time. It will be best that you do it here, too - just so I can answer any questions of yours in real time.”
“I… okay. Thank you, Attorney,” you finally reply, before heading back to where you sat earlier and putting your bag down on the floor. For a moment, you could feel him just staring at you - whether it was because he was trying to read you or judge you, you could not guess.
After a moment, though, he pulls his gaze away and slides the envelope towards you from across the expensive surface.
“Before you open that,” he interjects just as you were about to reach for the envelope, his hands neatly folded on the desk. “May I ask which professor you met with? You don't have to answer if you'd rather not say, of course.”
You ponder for a moment, trying to decide whether it's fine for Higuruma to know. While they both are department heads who work closely together, surely, it wouldn't matter if Higuruma knows. It probably wouldn't be the first time, too.
“It's actually Professor Kento, Atty. Higuruma. Nanami Kento.”
Pause. He looks at you, right eyebrow raising just slightly. If Nanami's been teaching here for more than ten years, Higuruma's been here for almost fifteen.
In all those years, Higuruma cannot remember for the life of him that his colleague ever allowed a failing student a chance to retake any of his past quizzes or exams. It was a disgustingly clean record that Nanami had, compared to him or even other professors in the university.
“If this… professor becomes an obstacle rather than a mentor,” he says evenly, “you tell me.”
Then, you nod with a smile that cracked under its own weight.
After coming home to your dorm and dragging yourself to change out of your clothes and remove your make-up, you finally plop down onto your bed, your face buried against your pillow.
On your walk back here from Mr. Higuruma's office, you felt your eyes sting and the familiar lump in your throat. But you did your best to at least keep it in until you get back to the privacy of your own room. But now that you are alone, the waterworks that you tried so hard to suppress…
That frustrates you more.
You start to wriggle and groan, kicking your legs like a toddler as you scream against your sheets. Back when you were still a freshman, you told yourself you wouldn't beat yourself up if ever came a time that you failed a course subject. That you can always retake it. But for some reason, now that it is finally happening, all the pep talk you did inside your head just seemed silly.
Economics would've been an easy course to pass if, perhaps, you never took that internship.
Perhaps it would've been easier for you to accept your own shortcomings if it weren't for the look of disappointment in Professor Kento's face.
It wasn't helping how your brain kept repeating the words, 'I'm disappointed in you' in his voice. He didn't even say that!
The whole night after you come home to your dorm, you manage to at least move your thumb that had been scrolling all day on TikTok, and click your email for any new assignments. You double check, just in case you had other professors trying to get you to go to their office to discuss your below academic standard performance.
You grab the hem of your blanket, pulling it up over your head as you close your eyes and try to get enough sleep for tomorrow. It'll be your first proper one after Mr. Higuruma sent you home earlier without any files to study, saying it is the start of agreement you two had.
But even now that you have no workload to think of for the rest of the night, you didn't get to sleep well at all.
Nanami notices the shift.
The next day, after the meeting he had with you in his office, he noticed how you were one of the students who came in early. You were already in the lecture hall ten minutes before class.
He also noticed how you've actually been submitting your homework on or before the deadline.
But, as any professor who actually takes his job seriously, submissions done for the sake of submitting something is not something he finds any sort of amusement in.
He'd done his best, really. His best, without actually giving you any special treatment, of course. All you had to do was go back to giving the same performance you did from the start, but perhaps that was too much, even for you.
Nanami had half the mind to directly knock fuck some sense into you, but you are, after all, already old enough.
If self-discipline had to be imposed on you, then academia was likely never the right place to begin with.
That was how Nanami found himself back in his office a week later, the echo of his own words lingering as he lay back in his chair, a towel folded neatly over his face while he waited for you.
You were struck by deja vu by what greets you when you open the door.
Professor Kento fixes his position, taking the towel off of his face and folding it neatly before he places it on the side.
You sit down this time without being told.
Nanami's expression flickers, just enough to register the break in routine, before it smooths back into something cool and controlled.
“I've reviewed your recent attendance,” he says without greeting whatsoever, fingers laced together on the desk. “And while it has improved… your submissions have not.”
“You've continued to submit work that is rushed,” he continues evenly. “Underdeveloped. Below the standard you've demonstrated in the past.”
“Professor, I've actually been restructuring my schedule,” you say. “I told you I was—”
“And yet,” he interrupts, “the quality has remained subpar.”
You straighten. “Subpar?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Your attendance alone does not compensate for careless analysis and incomplete arguments.”
You breathe in slowly through your nose, forcing your voice to stay level. “I've been turning everything in on time.”
“Timeliness is not the issue, miss,” he replies. “Competence is.”
“I adjusted my workload,” you say, louder now. “I cut back. I stopped attending evening events. I fixed the problem.”
“You fixed part of it,” he counters. “And it's clearly not enough.”
You let out a short, incredulous laugh. Who does he think he is? Why is he suddenly so… annoying?!
“So what, then? You want me to do what exactly? Drop everything else that actually matters to me?” You ask, your chest starting to heave despite your efforts to calm yourself down.
“My class should matter to you,” he says coolly.
“It does!” you snap. “But it doesn't get to be the only thing in my life just because you say so!”
Your hands curl against your knees.
His gaze sharpens. “Lower your voice.”
“No!” you say immediately. “This is… insane! You don't get to talk to me like I'm incapable,” you continue, heat flushing your face now. “I've owned my mistakes. I made changes. And you keep moving the goalpost and calling it standards.”
He shifts in his chair, just staring up - or down - at you from where he sat. He unclasps his fingers, shifting forward as he finally stands up from his chair. But he doesn't cross the distance between you two.
He doesn't trust himself to not cross anything more once you're close enough to grab.
“You're being disrespectful.”
“And you're being unfair,” you fire back. “If my work is weaker, it's because I was exhausted and you refused to listen. Not because I don't understand the material.”
Your voice is still raised when you finish, but it's steady.
“So if you called me in here to tell me I'm failing no matter what I do, just say that. But don't pretend this is about quality when you never gave me the chance to recover it,” you hiss between gritted teeth, before suddenly standing up and grabbing your bag from the floor.
"Where are you going?” He asks, and you can almost, almost hear the simmering anger amidst the confusion in his tone. "We're not done here, sweetheart.”
"I am going to Mr. Higuruma's office, and I will tell him about this ridiculous power trip you're playing at," you reply, even though your heart just kept pounding faster and faster as a part of your brain kept questioning where the hell you were getting the guts to disrespect your professor when you're already at the brink of getting dropped!
“What?" He asks almost incredulously, his own voice starting to rise as well. "What's that sanctimonious bureaucrat got to do with any of this? Don't tell me that glorified supervisor's already got you under his savior complex."
"Oh, that's creative, Professor Kento!” you snort, rolling your eyes at him as you turn your back and head towards the door. "I'll make sure to pass on your regards to him, then!” you add as you reach for the doorknob.
But before you could even touch the metal orb, you get pulled off the ground. You stumble on your own feet, feeling the tight grip on your wrist being the only thing to actually keep you up. Before you could even speak, Professor Kento lets go of your wrist only to place the same hand on your right shoulder, pushing you down onto the floor until you were on your knees.
A gasp leaves your throat when he suddenly grabs you by your hair, wrapping the strands around his knuckle until it was tight enough to pull your head back. Your hands grab at the one gripping your hair, trying to pry it off, but even both your hands weren't enough to move at least one finger from the knuckle grip he had on you.
“Tell me again, sweetheart," he says, his voice sending a wave of dread throughout your body as you dare to look up at him through your lashes. “Who's the one asking for favors here? Is it me?"
Silence. You could feel your eyes start to sting, your body trembling and your knees hurting from how you were kneeling. You would like to think that it was an act of mercy that Professor Kento forced you onto your knees by the area of his office floor that was covered with a carpet.
You would like to think that that act really was an act of mercy, because your body was betraying you. You could feel your own panties starting to dampen as he forced you to keep your gaze up at him, your lips parting with a soft whimper when he suddenly tugged on your hair due to your silence.
“I asked you a question," he mutters, his own chest starting to heave under the neatly ironed button-up he wore.
Despite the situation at hand, you never realized how well-built he was under all the formal shirts and suits he wore during lectures.
You never really dared to look at him that way…
Now, you doubt you could ever look at Professor Kento any other way again.
“Professor, this is… I don't…” you stutter, words failing you at that very moment as you try to say 'This isn't right! This is a violation! Mr. Higuruma will get your ass for me!'
Oh, but your pussy was doing all the thinking now.
This was exactly what he feared.
This was exactly what didn't want to happen when you stepped into his office earlier. He'd done his best since the last time - when you last visited his office, looking like a lost kitten in his office. It was a natural bait for someone looking for prey.
Nanami Kento prided himself as someone with more self control than the average person. He sees reason, and only ever pushes through with dropping a student from his class if he sees no improvement in them.
But never has he ever had a student raise their voice at him.
Nor has he ever had a student follow all that act up with a threat to report him to his own colleague.
You were all levels of ridiculous. From your misplaced confidence, your audacity, as well as the way you parted your lips at that moment, panting and struggling in his hold like you weren't asking for this with your display of attitude.
“Don't act obtuse,” he almost spat, his voice dripping with barely contained anger. “Sweetheart, you were asking for it at this point.”
You shake your head at him, but you say nothing to protest, even then.
It was disgusting how obvious you were.
Nanami had his own back-and-forth with the moralities of a situation like this, especially after he got that fucking hard-on from your last visit. He still stands by his own conviction that it is wrong - bribery, relationships with a student outside of the academy whether romantic or purely sexual, it is all still very wrong to him. Even until now.
But he is your professor. It is within his responsibilities to teach students.
If earlier, you weren't able to say anything out of shock and reluctant arousal from the way Professor Kento loomed over and handled you… now, you really couldn't say anything with his thick cock sliding down your throat.
Your hands tried to hold onto his thick thighs for support - which, again, was something you never really noticed nor appreciated until now - but it was no use. Each force of his thrusts drove your head back against his grip on your hair, and even when you tried to get him to slow down by tightening your hold around his thigh, he only went faster until you were drooling from the corner of your mouth.
“Now you're not talking shit, huh?” He mumbles in between short breaths, pulling his cock out of your mouth to slap the tip on your tongue. You kept it flat, sticking it out of your mouth as he kept letting his pre-cum pool over the surface of it. You could taste the saltiness of it, and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to complain as well.
He brought his free hand to your jaw, gripping it until you couldn't close your mouth. Your eyes, dazed and half-lidded, could only stare at him through your lashes as he bends down just slightly to spit in your mouth.
When he lets go of your jaw, you swallow his spit and pre-cum without question.
The smirk that grows on his lips didn't go unnoticed by you.
That smirk only grew into a whole grin when you opened your mouth immediately for him after swallowing.
How can one man make you debase yourself so quickly?
But the Professor didn't give you much time to think about it as he pushes his length down your throat almost immediately after.
The grip on your hair kept you in place as Nanami fucked your throat, the normally quiet office now filled with the disgusting squelch your throat was making as it accommodated his size, along with his grunts and the soft ticking of the clock against the wall.
“Mm, shit… you're less insufferable when you're gagging 'round your…” thrust. “... professor's cock. Keeps you shut up, huh?” He breathes out mockingly, but you could only gag around him, trying to keep your jaw lax enough for him. Your hand starts to move from his thigh to his balls as it keeps slapping on your chin. He watches with pinched eyebrows, his pace momentarily getting messed up when you suddenly fondle.
His thrusts were still fast, gagging you each time, but it was getting sloppier.
Nanami could feel the familiar coil in his lower stomach. He groans under his breath, cursing at how good - how great your little throat felt. It was warm, wet, and it kept you from saying anything more disrespectful bullshit and less of that fucker, Higuruma.
“Swallow it down, you bratty little slut," he mutters with a lazy smirk. Without warning, he pushes your whole head down to take his whole girth. The vibration of the gag you did around his dick immediately sent shivers throughout his system, and he finally cums.
You couldn't move your head at all. Your nose was pressed against his pubes as he spilled everything down your throat, and you had no choice but to swallow everything as he ordered.
When he finally finishes, he slowly pulls out of your mouth, panting heavily as he looks down at you. Compared to him, the one who actually came, you looked more fucked out than he did.
Well, that was the plan, anyway. Professor Kento gave you a very good lesson.
“Professor Kento," you call out to him, your voice rasped from all the abuse your throat took from him.
For all the yelling you did at him earlier, he managed to make sure you wouldn't be able to raise your voice again for at least the rest of the week.
He grunted in response as he grabbed another paper from the pile he was grading. After what happened, he told you to rest and lie down on the couch by the wall here in his office.
Of course, you accepted the offer.
"Uh… after what… happened…” you begin, your words starting to betray you again as you try to formulate your question. “I… I mean, does it mean that…”
Professor Kento puts down the paper he was grading, lifting his gaze as he sits back on his chair and crosses his arms.
"Sweetheart,” he drawls, shaking his head as if he was disappointed in you. "I do not do sexual favors in exchange for passing grades.”
Your jaw drops at the floor.
And here you were, hoping that it was already part of the package deal!
"But,” he cuts you off before you could even protest. "Perhaps… I could let you retake your failed quizzes this midterm. As long as you do it here in my office, of course."
thank you all so much for those who waited! it took me a really long time to write this because i didn't know how or where to pick it off, but hopefully, it does its job <3
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