Summary: Enrolling in a class you have no true interest in has its perks. Like the sexy professor teaching every class.
Content: Professor Michael Jackson, Mature Michael Jackson, reader or oc x Michael, no Y/N, suggestive, a littleeee smutty??
"Maya, why are you taking a poetry class?" Her sister had asked, peeking over her shoulder at her laptop screen.
"Because it's a GPA booster?" Maya stated as if it were just common sense.
At the time she made the mistake of enrolling without doing her due diligence, instead choosing to briefly skim over some reddit comments that failed to mention how particular the professor was.
Normally, after taking a look at the syllabus for a class as difficult as this one, she would've dropped it immediately. But there was one reason she had perfect attendance, and he stood before her every class. It was a shame the class was a mere 50 minutes, but it was the nightlight of week, 3 times a week.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, she had a pep in her step her friends all noticed. They thought maybe she was seeing someone but keeping it on the low. They didn't peg her for the kind of girl that went for older men, but it's not like she was really going for him. It was just a crush.
He was so intense. Intriguing. Sexy.
Every day, he'd walk in with his briefcase setting it down before organising the papers he liked to look at. He didn't have slideshows he read off of. He was the kind of professor that had a general idea of what they'd discuss, and then he'd just let the conversation flow.
He always wore something that drove Maya insane though, like he knew exactly what she liked. The first day he showed up, she gasped out loud, having to feign a coughing fit just to cover it up out of sheer embarrassment. Since then, she'd sit just a few rows past the first one. Close enough of her a good look, but not close enough to where he could see the effect he had on her.
"Let the words flow out of you. Don't overthink it. It's due next week, not because I hate you but because I want authenticity." He proposed, using his hands to gesture as he spoke.
It was one of the first things she had noticed. Professor Jackson, being the tempting man he was, had decided to wear a button up with most of the top ones undone, and his sleeve rolled up to his elbows. With his arms on display, Maya had to literally bite back her reaction.
Every time he'd move his hands, she'd see a vein bulge, or a muscle flex and she'd nearly let out a moan at the thought of his hands on her. Not to mention the sheer size of them. Blinking away those thoughts, she tried to pay attention to his lecture but then all she could focus on was his lips.
"Fuck." She whispered to herself, watching as he took his leather jacket off, his black hair falling to the side as he reached down to grab some papers.
"I've graded everyone's work. Good job, for the most part." He began, using his free hand to put his reading glasses on. Maya nearly jumped out of her seat at the sight.
The class chit chatted, every student talking to the one beside them about their work and their concerns about their grades. She couldn't care less. She watched him closely, her head tilted slightly as her eyes wandering over his body. He was lean. He was lanky. She wanted to climb him like a tree, but she couldn't even sit in the front row worried he'd notice her obvious gaze.
"I'll be uploading the marks tonight, so keep an eye out for that. We've officially reached the midpoint of the semester, things will just get harder from here."
Harder was right. Aside from enjoying the class because of the free show she got to enjoy every time, she was doing terribly. She underestimated just how talented she was with words, or maybe he was just too picky. She didn't care if it was the latter. But she'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried for her GPA.
"Class is over early today. See you guys next week." He smiled, putting the papers away as students quickly began to scatter and head out.
Maya however, took her sweet time. He didn't even wait the full 50 minutes, letting everyone go 20 minutes ahead of time. Acting as though she was looking for something in her handbag, she watched him through her lashes as he put that jacket back on, his shoulders flexing through his shirt as he did so.
Her heart racing as if she was going to confess right then and there, she threw her bag over her shoulder, walking past him with a polite smile keeping her eyes on the ground.
"Wait." He said, just as she reached the doors. With the curl of his finger, he motioned for her to come closer.
And come she did, practically running over to him. She hadn't even noticed her was holding one singular piece of paper. With her name on it.
"Yes?" Maya asked, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.
"Maya, right?" He asked, still wearing the reading glasses that did nothing but turn her on.
She stared at him for a moment, inhaling his scent. He smelled as good as he looked. Swallowing, hard, she nodded.
"I've been meaning to talk to you. I'm a little concerned about your grade." He told her, passing her the piece of paper that she finally registered.
It was her poem- or her sad excuse for one. She had completely forgotten about the assignment, only recalling one detail. Anyone can be the muse, and it can be about anything. She knew exactly who to write about.
"Oh." Was all she could utter, taking the piece of paper from him to read her grade. She managed to get a 30%. Staring down at the grade, then back up at him, her mind was in all the wrong places.
All she could think about was how close they were standing to each other, and how much taller he was up close. She tried not to stare at his lips, but the only thing she wanted to do was grab him by the leather jacket he kept teasing her with, and smash her lips on his. Instead, she blinked.
With his hands on his hips, he stared at her, finally taking his glasses off with his free hand and massaging the bridge between his eyebrows.
"I don't normally do this, but I've noticed you're here every class. Oftentimes you're here before I am, so I can tell you care. You just need a little one-on-one time. Drop by my office hours tomorrow, I'll keep them open for you." He told her, giving her that soft smile that had been showing up in her dreams.
She had been just as nervous as she was giddy stepping into his office. It was exactly what she expected. Dark and mysterious. She was terrified about what one-on-one meant, because it certainly didn't mean making out with her. But, getting to see him on a day she normally wouldn't? Big win.
Since she knew she'd be seeing him, alone, she wanted to wear something a little more impressive than what she usually wore. What he liked? She hadn't a clue. But she went off based on what he wears, making sure to show off her assets just a little. Not obvious and tacky, but enough to warrant some intrigue.
'Almost' she thought to herself, nodding as she shut the door behind her.
He was perched up on the edge of his desk, right before the chair she was assuming was for her. Putting her bag down, she took the spot, admiring the view before her.
"How are you?" He asked, looking down at her. This was exactly how her dreams began.
"I'm fine, you?" She asked, trying to be as unsuspecting as she possibly could given the fact that she wanted nothing more than for him to rip her shirt off with his teeth.
"Good now that you're here."
She could've sworn he was flirting with her, the way he was looking at her through those frames she loved so dearly.
"Of course. I wanna do a good job for you." She told him.
'Subtle' she thought to herself, nearly shaking her head, quickly adding "Uh- since you went out of your way to help me- I mean. You said you don't do this often, so I really appreciate it."
He nodded, "Well let's get started then. Tell me, why are you taking this class to begin with?"
'Shit' she bit her lower lip, glancing down at his hands trying to think of an answer better than, 'I thought it would be easy, turns out it's not, and you're crazy hot. Can we make out?'
"I just thought it would be a fun elective. I like songs, I wanted to see if I could write some." She lied, playing with the hem of her skirt nearly sweating through her shirt. Maybe it was the fact that she was alone, in an enclosed room with the hottest man she had ever seen. Or that she wasn't a good liar.
"I see. Well, the issue isn't your writing." He began, leaning back as he crossed his arms, his forearms flexing. Why did he always have his veiny arms on display? It was so distracting. "It's that your poetry reads... forced."
"Ouch. That's mean." Maya jokingly frowned, scrunching her nose trying to lighten the mood because he seemed a little more serious than she would've liked.
"It's honest, after all I'm your professor. Not your friend."
She narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side pushing him to continue.
"You're trying too hard to sound profound instead of writing something real. Good poetry usually comes from having real emotions, that way you don't have to invent them."
She stared at him, his advice going over her head as her thoughts wandered to different places. Like what if she took a risk, leaned over the desk and just gave in?
The way he said her name snapped her out of her fantasy, blinking herself back into reality realizing she had been staring at him without a word.
Professor Jackson exhaled a quiet laugh, through his nose, pushing himself off the desk. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" She asked innocently, pouting ever so slightly.
"That thing where you look at me like you're not listening to a single word I'm saying. You do it most classes too."
Had he noticed her before? Was she that obvious? She could've died on the spot just thinking about it. But it's not like he made it easy for her, looking the way he did. And being as smart as he was. She never cared for poetry, but she'd read some of his stuff. He was talented beyond comprehension.
"Sorry, just a little distracted."
"Maybe that's the issue. What exactly was going through your mind while writing it?"
She damn near combusted on the spot. She couldn't recall a single line of her life depended on it, but she knew each one was about him. Something about temptation.
She cleared her throat, "I was just trying to be creative."
"Mhm." His tone told her he didn't believe for, not for a second. But it was music to her ears. If she could record him whispering, humming, just talking, she would so she could listen to it as she slept.
"Well, your poem reads like someone trying really hard to describe desire without truly understanding it. I think it would help if you had a muse."
She almost laughed in his face. If only he knew. He was more than a muse, he was an obsession. He was all she could think about, talk about, daydream about. If he wasn't a muse, she didn't know what was.
"Who says I'm inventing it?"
That made him pause, just slightly. His eyebrows jumped more a moment before they settled. His eyes narrowed behind those stupidly sexy glasses. "You have a muse?"
She nodded, avoiding eye contact.
"They can't be very inspiring if this is what you came up with."
"Uh-" Her jaw dropped, quickly shutting because there wasn't a single thought in her head.
He smiled faintly at that, "May I ask who?"
The room suddenly felt too warm, despite the gloom beyond his window.
Maya looked down at her hands before glancing back up at him through her lashes, a shy smile pulling at her mouth despite herself. She watched as realization hit him in real time.
His expression froze. Eyes widening just slightly as every interaction they'd had over the semester replayed. Her sitting front row. The constant flirting. The lingering after class. The staring.
"...Ah." The single sound came out quiet. Slowly, he stood from the desk.
Maya's heartbeat turned violent as he moved around to the other side of it, lowering himself into his chair this time instead of sitting near her, creating distance. Suddenly all that excitement turned to a lump in her throat, her hands clammy and her button up too tight.
"Oh my god." She blurted quickly, grabbing her bag before she cried before him, "I'm sorry, forget I said anything, I should go-"
"No seriously, this is so embarrassing, I need to leave-"
"Maya" His voice came firmer that time, a command rather than a plea. If she wasn't so flustered, she'd bite to think about it later.
Both of them stood now, he wasn't leaning on the edge of his desk anymore, instead just a few feet away since she had already been making her way to the door. With on hand on his hip, the other rubbing the back of his neck as he exhaled a quiet laugh to himself like he couldn't believe the situation he was in.
Maya however was seconds from passing out, or jumping out of the window behind him.
"I should go." She repeated weakly, inching for the door.
Her hand paused the handle.
"Close, and lock the door."
She turned towards him, following his exact orders. The soft click of the lock the only sound between them. When she turned around, he was looking at her differently. Not like a professor.
He wasn't even trying to hide it. His gaze flickered over her once, head to toe before he looked away briefly giving her a look at that jawline as it tightened like he was fighting with himself internally.
"I cannot believe I'm about to say this," he half muttered to himself, his hand on his jaw like his body was trying to tell him no.
"Say what?" Maya asked innocently, eyes wide as she couldn't think straight.
His gaze lifted back to hers, "I can't say I haven't thought about it."
Professor Jackson laughed softly, shaking his head before she realized they had managed to reduce the distance between them, "Oh, shut up."
Before she could muster up a response, still somewhat lost, thinking this was a sick dream, his hand gently caught the end of her shirt just by her waist, tugging her towards him. She stumbled forward with a startled gasp, her bag falling from her shoulder just as his mouth crashed against hers.
And goodness. Every fantasy she'd had about kissing him somehow fell short. He kissed like her was starving. There was no other way to describe it.
He had spent months starving himself of something he desperately wanted, only to finally snap and give in all at once. His hands had found her waist instantly, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her deeply enough to leave her dizzy.
And his lips? Soft in a way that completely contrasted the intensity and passion between them. He kissed her like he wanted to memorize the feeling of her mouths against his, as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted to savour or devour her. He tasted just as good as everything else about him. Coffee. Mint. Something that made her instinctively grip the front of his shirt tighter.
A quiet sound escaped her throat when he kissed her harder, leaning into her and her hands slipped onto his neck for support. He practically groaned in her mouth at that reaction.
"You have no idea," her murmured against her lips, breath uneven now, "how long I've wanted to do this."
The confession alone knocked the air right out of her, her stomach light and fluttery as she pulled back just enough to look up at him, her lips swollen, heart pounding in her chest, "Oh yeah?"
He started at her for half a second, admiring how disheveled she looked now, her lipstick smudges and her shirt unbuttoned from him tugging on her like that.
His hand slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. Maya inhaled sharply at the sudden warmth of his palm against her skin, the sudden touch making her arch towards him. Michael groaned softly at her reaction, eyes fluttering shut for a second like he was trying to desperately keep himself together.
Confidence surged through her body at the realization that she affected him just as badly. At that, her hands slid upward slowly, curling around the collar of his shirt, staring up at him with big eyes making sure he saw the look on her face before she made her move.
Tugging him closer, her lips brushed along the edge of his jawline teasingly. He froze.
'Interesting' she thought, pulling back to get a good look at his face. He had his eyes shut, his breathing a little heavier. She kissed just beneath his jaw again, slower this time.
"You sure are quiet now." She teased softly against his skin, his grip on her waist tightening.
She only hummed innocently before kissing lower toward his neck, and the sound he let out after that was enough to drive her crazy. Low. Rough. Completely unguarded.
"Oh," she whispered, smiling slightly against his skin. "You like that."
Michael laughed breathlessly, one hand sliding fully beneath her shirt now, fingertips tracing slowly along her waist.
"Mhm." she kissed the corner of his mouth once before pulling back just enough to look at him. "You're the one who pulled me over here."
That earned her a look, the kind that made her entire body warm instantly.
"Sit." he told her, using his head to gesture to the desk he'd just been leaning on. She listened, spinning over and pushing herself up.
He stood between her legs, his hands at the back of her neck, guiding her into another kiss hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs.
"Such a good girl for me," he murmured against her mouth afterward, voice rough enough to make her knees weaken. "Doing just as I say."
She nearly melted on the spot, moaning into his mouth. The worst part? He noticed.
A smug smile tugged at his lips, his thumb brushed against her waist, "There it is." he teased softly, "You like that huh?"
A/N: THIS WAS SOOOO FUNN omg mature mike is so sexy I need him
areudirty
kaledo-art
vaporwave
yousharknotpass
