| Distracted by you...
Aizen sosuke x fem!reader (reader is 18+)
Tw :age gap (college student x professor), explicit content (18+), heavy tension, possessive behavior, semi-public setting, morally grey dynamics, obsessive thoughts.
A/N : this was written in under and hour and is not proofread, so Apologies for any typos, or grammar issues. đ°
Catching a cold and missing a week of lectures was not on your 2026 bingo card, and definitely not how you wanted to start the semester. To make it all worse, your devastatingly handsome professor had to mention that there would be a test at the end of the week, covering work you had yet to catch up on. But good thing you have a best friend who does the same major as you, because even if Rangiku slept through most lectures, she still has Professor Ichimaru to get her notes and work from Professor Aizen. So having a professor as your boyfriend does come in handy⌠noted.
Now, Professor Aizen has been your professor since last year, and youâve noticed that heâs always been lenient with you. Even when you bothered him after lectures to explain concepts you didnât understand, he never seemed impatient or irritated, even if you asked the same questions over and over again. He always had that smile, the kind that took away all your problems and made you want to confess every sin youâd ever committed. It was the same smile he gave everyone, and that bothered you. Why was your precious professor giving that deathly sweet smile to those nobodies? They didnât understand what a blessing it was to see him, to be in his presence. But that was a problem for another time.
You stayed after class to catch up and ask Professor Aizen for help. Even though Rangiku gave you all the notes and slides, you still didnât fully understand the concepts. And, truthfully, you wanted to be alone with your dear professor. He made your heart race every time you were near him, and that smooth, velvety voice sent shivers down your spine as he explained the difference between Japanâs economy and Chinaâs economy, his gaze fixed on you.
âWhile both Japan and China have markets that mass-produce and exportâŚâ He paused. âHmm, that wonât do. You seem to be distracted by something. Mind telling me?â
You looked away, your face turning a darker shade of red by the second, palms sweaty as you stared down at your hands. You admitted that you were distracted, saying you were wondering if it would rain later. Good thing you checked the weather forecast that morning, or else you wouldnât have known what to say. What else could you have said? He seemed skeptical before turning his head toward the window. The little bit of sun that shone met his glasses in a glare, hiding his eyes. He wore a thoughtful expression before agreeing and continuing to explain the concepts.
You tried your best to pay attention, but the words drowned out. Your focus wasnât on learning anymore, but on ogling your professor. The way his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose when he looked at the textbook on his desk, the veins on his hands bulging when he flexed them, or how he adjusted his tie from time to time. It had you staring, completely obsessed.
At some point, you dazed off, your imagination running wild, until you felt a hand on your shoulder, the grip just tight enough to make you yelp softly. You turned to see your professor standing to your right, his towering figure casting a shadow over you.
You had no excuse this time. Youâd been caught red-handed.
Before you could even think of one, he spoke.
âI suppose you werenât thinking about the weather again, now were we?â
You stayed quiet, clueless about what to say. Just as the words were about to leave your mouth, he continued.
âIâve noticed, you know. The way your gaze always falls on me, and that look in your eyes.â His tone was calm, almost amused. âI must say, my dear, itâs quite the fiery look of possession. But you are mistaken. I am not yours, and you are not mine. You have not earned that position yet.â
The next day was no different, but you truly tried. You really did this time. Still, your gaze always landed where it really shouldnât have, and he noticed. Unlike last time, though, he didnât say anything. He simply repeated the sentence again. It wasnât the best way to go about it, but it worked for you. And it wasnât just the fact that he repeated it. It was the way he said it. Not in the way he usually taught. No, this time his tone was different. More seductive. And by seductive, you meant a tone that carried authority, a tone that demanded your attention. And you gave it to him.
It was the day before your test, and you were more distracted than ever. You felt tired and energized at the same time, your leg bouncing uncontrollably as you gripped your pen like your life depended on it. Your eyes darted everywhere, trying to focus on anything but the figure in front of you.
You were so overstimulated you needed a distraction. You needed to focus. You needed him. And that was a bad idea. You knew you were in for a terrible day the moment you saw the notification stating that you would be ovulating today, and the fact that the very first thing that crossed your mind was your professorâ
On his knees, gripping your thighs in a bruising manner, glasses off, hair pushed back, and a cocky smirk on his lips, before he goes down on you.
Overstimulating you further, swapping between using his mouth and hands, As he asked you questions based on the test, That you really could care less about, and everytime there was a lack of answer, he would stop and edge you, until you gave an answer,
And everytime you would give an answer he would make you come, and each time it was complete bliss, and by the time he was done, you were a panting mess, Drool running down the sides of your mouth, Your legs still trembling, Both your mind and body overstimulated.
And when you were just thinking he was doen with you, He gripped your thighs again this time with one hand, The other going towards his buckel and you heard him say, "darling I'm not quite done with you yet", his voice a bit husky as be panted slightly pushing his hair back again before you heard the sound of his belt buckel.
