yandere professor!gabe using his authority to intimidate and obsess over his student? (preferably female) also ty for coming back ive missed u :'D
ahhh tyty, hope this is to your liking. :,)
The rich scent of coffee fills your senses, sweet hints of mocha and cinnamon tempt you to buy another cup. But you weren’t sure if your pounding headache was due to the absurd amount of caffeine you had drank or the intense course material you were studying. And you weren’t about to find out.
The words in your textbook and pages of notes were beginning to read like a foreign language. Various names of bones, ligaments, and tissues were impossible to remember. You had to try, though. Something had to get through to you soon or your grades would suffer.
Your mid-term exam was a week away and you were nowhere close to understanding the material. Unfortunately, you had foolishly taken Professor Reyes’ Physiology course. It was only after you attended class did you learn his reputation as one of the most difficult professors. He must’ve been proud of that, too, because he was deliberately unhelpful when you consulted him during his office hours. You expressed your concerns about the difficult material and how you were at a loss when reading the textbook. His advice to you was to simply “study more” as he waved you out of his office, already focusing his attention away from you and onto whatever papers he was examining on his desk. As if most of your days weren’t spent glued to textbooks already.
He must’ve taken some pity on you, however, because he had allowed you to tutor with him after class today. The prospect was equally optimistic as it was daunting. Professor Reyes was strict and spoke on only professional terms that mostly went over you head in the classroom. One on one, he might take you for the fool you always felt you were in his presence. But what choice did you have besides to omit sleep for studying if you were to pass? Whatever embarrassment you were bound to experience would be worth it. It had to be worth it. So, you rose from your seat, smoothing your pleaded skirt as you gathered your books and made your way to meet with the professor.
The empty classroom was worlds away from the warm comforts that you left behind at the campus library. Colorless, scentless. The bright fluorescent lights and stark cold kept you alert and you straightened your posture. Professor Reyes was seated at his desk, a stack of papers keeping him busy. You let out a gentle “excuse me” to catch his attention. He raised an eyebrow and his sight met yours as he motioned for you to take a seat from whatever chair was available to you. You pulled a chair to sit across from him at his desk, stroking the collar of your shirt out of nervous habit.
He pushed his papers to the side, extended a hand towards you. His hand seemed rough, almost calloused, and the same color you preferred your coffee. A peak of his arm from his reach revealed to be vascular and toned. It seemed the passion he had towards his studies was something he took to heart. A sigh came from his lips, “Alright, young lady, let’s see what work we have ahead of us today.”
You sighed and handed him your textbook, nervous to confess you still had much to learn, “I’m sorry, sir, I just feel so overwhelmed by the material. There’s so much to learn, I’m not sure how you do it.”
Professor Reyes opened the textbook to the chapter you were learning and scoffed at your comment, “While I’m certainly flattered, this material is entry level. I’ve had art majors pass this course with no issue.”
Your cheeks reddened and you felt your words struggle to leave your throat, you knew you would look like a fool in front of him but damn did he make it sting, “Perhaps I should consider changing my major.”
He managed to find the humor in your deflated tone and chuckled, “Well, don’t lose hope yet. Show me exactly what you’d like me to explain.”
You leaned your head into your hand as he went over in detail the exact elements you had struggled with. It seemed so easy when your professor was explaining it to you in simple terms and when he answered your question exactly, things were slowly starting to come together. He didn’t even look at the textbook once, only using it as a guide for you to show him what chapters you need explained. And as you were getting more confident with the material, your nervous shroud shed. Professor Reyes was strict, yes, but with that came the passion for his subject. He was an accomplished professor and that was what made him so renowned and equally feared by inexperienced students such as yourself. And you were witnessing his knowledge first hand, something many of your peers would kill for.
The two of you went back and forth discussing the course content for almost two hours. There was still plenty of learning that had to be done on your part, but now that you were understanding the basics you hoped studying alone would become much easier. But it was getting late, the sun had set nearly a half hour ago and the parking lot outside the classroom window was emptying out.
“There is much more going on beneath the surface than we realize,” Professor Reyes continued, “that’s a very important point of the midterm. You’ll describe the intent of certain parts of the body and how they work to keep everything in function.”
You nodded, not wanting to interrupt him in hopes he would spill some more information about the exam.
“Do you have any questions?” he asked, and once you nodded your head in response, he closed the textbook, “It’s getting quite late, young lady. And I’m afraid I won’t have anymore time before the mid-term to offer you more private tutoring lessons.”
“Please, professor,” you begged him, hands clasped together, “just one more question. I promise I’ll make it quick.”
He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs as he contemplated entertaining your request, “What is it?”
“Just about the joints, I would really appreciate it if you could go over them for me. It makes much more sense when you explain it to me rather than the textbook,” it was a short chapter that he assigned the class to read independently, but the textbook had no sympathy to unfamiliar readers.
“Do you expect me to dedicate myself to you?” he asked, his harsh tone was betrayed by the smile on his face, “No other student has had the benefit of me personally reviewing that chapter. Should I make a special exception for you?”
“Um,” your voice shook with nervousness and you brought a hand up to fiddle with the collar of your shirt, “I’m sorry, sir. I just find that you’re far better at teaching than I am at learning.”
His smile widened, exposing his teeth as he let out a hearty chuckle, “Well, you certainly need to be taught a lesson in manners, it seems. I hope you took good notes, you’re going to need it.”
He rose from his chair and walked over to you, gesturing with a nod for you to get out of your seat. You didn’t budge in protest, only stared up at him with pleading eyes, “Please, Professor Reyes. If I can understand this chapter I promise you I can pass this mid-term.”
There was a brief moment of silence as he considered your plea. He was standing just next to you, hand on the back of your chair. You felt uncomfortably close to him and too aware of the power he had over you now. Many things depended on his answer. If he agreed, it was very likely you would be able to at least pass the mid-term, if not ace it. If he disagreed, you would have to continue arduously studying the most difficult chapter to you by yourself with flimsy hopes that you might be able to pass. And this mid-term dictated a large part of your grade. You needed this, and you hoped Professor Reyes could sympathize with your determined will to pass his course.
He hummed, giving you a light pat on the shoulder before returning to his desk, “Let’s make this quick. You should know how lucky you are.”
You exhaled a heavy breath that you didn’t realize you were holding, “Absolutely, sir. I’m extremely grateful.”
“I certainly hope so,” he began as he opened the textbook.
It wasn’t quick. Another hour was spent on that chapter alone as you wanted to ensure you understood everything in precise detail. At first you feared your professor would get annoyed with you. That perhaps he had somewhere he should or would rather be. But he wasn’t. Instead, he seemed even more invested in teaching you now than before, almost as if he had something to gain from it. Perhaps the satisfaction of having a struggling student understand material through his teachings was incentive enough. You really did appreciate the dedication he had towards teaching.
When you felt confident in understanding the content of the chapter, and after having answered some of the professor’s own comprehensive questions in depth, you felt invigorated. Professor Reyes must’ve also felt some relief now that the session was coming to an end. Though you were tired from studying and lack of sleep, you were no longer anxious and that was somewhat refreshing.
Professor Reyes leaned back in his seat and hummed in approval, “It seems like my work here is done. How are you feeling about the mid-term now?”
You nodded eagerly and your voice brightened when you spoke, “So much better, professor. I might even be able to get some sleep tonight.”
“Good,” he smiled, “Best you make your way out now before it’s too dark. Need me to walk you to your car?”
“Thank you, sir, but I should be fine,” there was something wholesome about the way he was concerned for you, “I should get going, though. Thank you so much for taking all this time just to help me. There’s not another professor I could think of as dedicated as you.”
He hummed in reply, hardly acknowledging your words, “Stay safe, I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
——
Your time spent with Professor Reyes was not in vein. Studying became less of a difficult process and more of a review of what you had already known. Finally, you could catch up on the sleep you so desperately needed to get through the day. All of you other mid-terms had gone smoothly, and when Tuesday had finally arrived, you felt more confident than ever. Professor Reyes greeted you as you entered the classroom and you felt a spark of joy at the bond you had formed with him. You hoped he felt the same, too, as having a good relationship with him might bode well in the future. He was well respected by his colleagues and students alike.
The exam wasn’t simple. It was thorough and there were certainly some question you had to guess. But if you were to approach it was the mental state you had last week, there was no way you would survive. Some answers came to you in an instant, some not at all. Still, with your new spirits, you were among the first to finish in the class. Professor Reyes noticed when you handed him your exam papers. He didn’t say anything, but gave you an inquisitive look that was seemed like he was either impressed or appalled by your speed. Not wanting to ruin your spirits, you had assumed it was the former and practically skipped out of the classroom in delight.
One good thing about taking exams was the early dismissal and the time you had to yourself on campus before your next class. There was no hurrying or running through the halls to try to get in on time. You could finally eat something during the afternoon instead of having to pray your stomach doesn’t rumble in the middle of a lecture. After the chaos of preparing for mid-terms, you could finally catch a break.
The rest of your classes were easy, mostly just taking notes on new chapters. Not much work or actual thinking involved. It was the best time to be a student. Or so you felt until you opened up your email. To your shock, Professor Reyes had messaged you personally, something he had never done before even when you scheduled to visit him during office hours. Most of his messaging was automated, but this one wasn’t. The title read “Mid-term” and his message only said “See me.” It shook you to your core and swiftly eroded your relaxed state. Though you were about to leave campus as your last class had just ended, there was no way you could now.
You almost ran through the long maze of corridors, all the way across campus towards the professor’s room. You stopped just short of the door to catch your breath and smooth the wrinkles of your outfit before knocking. That same suffocating anxiety caught at your throat. Subconsciously, your fingers crossed in hopes that whatever bad news was to come, karma might intervene and magically reverse it. The door opened and Professor Reyes stood in the doorframe. He was usually seated at his desk, and you had never stood at his side before. He was tall, must’ve been over 6’, and his shoulders so broad they almost touched the doorframe.
“Professor,” you began, “I saw your email-“
“Come in,” before you could finish, he spoke, “There’s something we need to discuss.”
The tone of his voice had you immediately complying. It was authoritative but gentle, unlike his usually jovial tone. At this point, you could feel your heart rate rising and hands starting to perspire. The professor didn’t even sit behind his desk, rather he had pulled two chairs aside so you were sitting just next to each other. You kept your knees tight against each other and your arms almost hugging yourself in a desperate attempt to comfort your anxieties. He reached over at his desk to grab a small stack of papers, presumably your exam from earlier that day, and sat beside you.
“You know,” he began, “I couldn’t believe how quickly you finished your test. In fact, I was so curious to see how well you did that I graded your paper not long after you left.”
You swallowed, biting your lip in anticipation at what was the come of this impromptu meeting.
His eyes fixed onto yours before he spoke, “Do you want to know your grade?”
Of course he knew that you wanted to see your grade. It was like he was taunting you, hanging that carrot over your head with intent, “Yes, sir. I would love to.”
He chuckled lowly and readjusted his position, widening his knees, almost touching yours and occupying the space between the two of you, “I thought I taught you well,” he extended the papers in front of you, “But it looks like you’re in need of another lesson.”
You carefully took the papers from him, not wanting to tugged them from his hands in your nervousness. Immediately the red ink jumped at you with the mark of your grade. 62. There was no way. You were about to turn to the next page before your professor put his hand atop yours to stop you.
“Hold on, now. Don’t get so antsy,” he was speaking in a tone you didn’t like and the atmosphere was swiftly changing, “We need to discuss how we’re going to proceed with grades like these.”
Everything was overwhelming your senses with shame. Your face was beet red and eyes were beginning to cloud, “Professor,” you said through bated breath, “I don’t know how this happened, I thought I did really well-“
He hushed you, putting a gentle hand around your shoulder. He seemed so much larger than you and you wanted to just shrink out of existence in that moment, “Now, now. No need to get upset. I’m sure there are other ways for you to bring your grades up.”
“Really?” you asked, holding back tears.
“Yes, of course,” he said, the hand on your shoulder moving to hold your upper arm as he inched closer, “It’s a shame, to waste your potential. You’re such a good student, but I think you’re going to need more private sessions, don’t you?”
You raised your chin a bit to meet his eyes and just then you realized how close he really was. His knees brushed against yours and his arm wrapped around your body. When you meet his eyes, they were hardly a feet apart from your own and it felt wrong. He shouldn’t be this close.
“What do you mean?” you asked, turning your body away from his.
His hand touched your waist, you yelled and tried to squirm out of his grasp but he moved in front of you and put his other hand on you to keep you in place. Your hands tried to pull at his forearms to release his grip but he stayed firm, “You’re going to need a lot more favors from me to pass this class. You better make it worth my while.”
“No,” you struggled against him as he began lifting your blouse, “Stop it, Professor, please. I promise I won’t tell if you just stop.”
“You already broke one promise to me,” he began as he lifted you out of the chair and onto his desk, “I’m sure you’re just as capable to break another. But go ahead and tell, sweetheart. It won’t get you very far.”
He was too strong for you to fight, lifting you and moving you about with ease. His fingers almost ripped apart the buttons of your shirt as he undressed you, revealing a white bra with lace and ribbons. Without hesitation, he kissed across your exposed collar bone down until he was between your breasts, licking and sucking on their fullness.
“Professor,” you gasped out, still squirming under him and feeling completely exposed as the cold air chilled your skin, “Please, don’t do this.”
Your cries feel on deaf ears as he unclasped your bra and your breasts bounced free, nipples hard and tender.
“Fuck,” he tossed your bra aside onto the floor and admired you before him, “get on your knees. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
You sat frozen atop his desk, hands covering your breasts as you began to cry. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks and whines escaped your lips as you realized how helpless you were. A calloused hand grabbed your knee and threw you with incredible force onto the ground. You could hardly see from your soaked eyes the man towering above you, but you could tell he had unsheathed himself and was stroking his cock right above you.
“We can do this the easy way, have a little fun. Or the hard way, which is just as much fun for me. Maybe not for you. If I were in your position, I suggest doing what I ask,” he spoke, reaching for your hair to tug you along to follow him.
You didn’t know what to do. The last thing you wanted was to see through this man’s perverse desires. But you knew he was capable of hurting you, capable of doing whatever this was without consequence. Who would believe you? Professor Reyes was not only respected in his field, but women adored him, students and professors alike. Who would think he would have to coerce anyone to be with him?
He tugged at your hair again, stinging your scalp and bringing you back to reality. Crying, you crawled over to him as he sat in the chair he had pulled you from. His cock was leaking with precum and presented to you. A hand on the back of your neck pulled you closer, you could see clearly the veins of his cock, see it pulsing and wet in front of you. You could hear his eager exhales and frustrated grunts.
“Get it wet, girly,” he demanded, “down your fucking throat.”
You choked back tears and sniffled. Without thinking too much about it, you took his head in your mouth and he released a lustful sigh. You tried to inch your mouth further and further down to take him all in, but it seemed like his length kept growing and growing. He was huge in your mouth, length and girth practically choking you as your saliva and his precum struggled to lubricate the member. But he grew impatient and pushed you down until your nose was buried into his unruly pubic hair.
Just as soon as he had you deepthroating his cock, he pulled you back up, saliva and precum drooling from your mouth onto your breasts as you gasped for air. He shifted closer to you, barely keeping himself seated on the chair and pulled you against him. His hand grabbed your tits and squeezed them around his cock, “Keep them there.”
You did, though it was much harder for you since your hands weren’t as big as his. He told you to stroke his cock with your tits, so you moved them up and down, hoping to satisfy him. It seemed to be what he wanted as he hummed in approval. His hand pulled at your hair again, pulling your lips down to the tip of his cock that poked out of your boobs and you obliged him by licking it while you stroked him. Your body was soaked in a mix of your own fluids and your professor’s and you felt like a filthy toy. Your blouse was stained with wet marks and you had no idea where your bra went. Just moments earlier, you thought your professor was trying to console you. Now, he was using you and speaking to you like you were nothing but a slut. And you felt like it, too. Never had you felt so dirty, knees on the hard, dusty floor, face and chest covered in spit as Professor Reyes continually pumped his cock around your boobs.
He was getting close, you could tell by how hard he was fucking into you. His hands wandered around your body, pinching your nipples to hear you yelp and cry, squeezing your cheeks and rubbing your lips lewdly with his thumb. Hot streaks of white fell onto your face and chest, Professor Reyes letting out hoarse grunts while he finished all over you. His breath was heavy, he stood up and wiped himself clean with a few tissues from his desk. You stayed in place, shocked, hands covering your breast and silent tears falling down your face.
The professor walked over to you, kneeled next to your shaken form and displayed your exam papers before you. You looked at the papers, but didn’t say a word. Before you could realize what he’d done, he ripped the papers in half and throw them into the bin.
“See me again this Thursday,” he said, “We’ll see if we can schedule a retake for that exam.”
Reaper x Male!Reader - ...Since I've been seeing your face
A/N: This is a slightly different version of the 'It's been eight bitter years' one shot from a while ago - with a few changes made. Thanks to the request @madaakura
It was the anniversary of one of your most devastating days - and that's coming from someone who'd fought many battles.
Walking through the streets of Zürich felt bitterly familiar, days off that you'd spend here with your blackwatch colleagues and friends, meetings upon meetings and the nagging need to make your way to the headquarters - or what was left of them.
The streets were almost disgustingly empty and the november cold bit it's way through your winter coat, making you shiver.
Though it wasn't only the snow falling that made you feel cold and uncomfortable - you felt watched.
Your senses never fooled you, and you were already bracing for perhaps being robbed or just shot to death. You narrowed your eyes together, the cloud of black smoke on a rooftop catching your eyes, only illuminated by the citylights from below.
You knew exactly that it wasn't just someone's chimney spitting out the remains of last year to clear Santa Claus's way for the Christmas to come - you'd heard about this...thing.
You freeze in motion as the shadow starts to move. While your legs feel like they're stuck to the ground your hands are shaking violently and your hearts beating faster than ever before - you hadn't fought in so long, and that thing was closing in.
You gathered everything you ever learned, what your lover had taught you, thought about what worked in the past and tried to figure out how to approach this situation, but your mind came to another stop as the shadow materialised infront of you - standing menacingly.
You scrunched your nose at the sight of the mask and the rest of his getup. To say that the uneasy feeling in your gut was spreading rapidly was an understatement - you were scared.
"Good evening.", you begin, in hopes that maybe - just maybe - the person infront of you was up for a friendly conversation. Or a polite one at least.
You hoped that he wouldn't expand the distance. Something about him being this close made you almost feel confident - hand to hand combat always ended in your favour, as opposed to battles fought from a distance.
While you were unsure what he was - you were sure that you could throw a couple of punches at whatever areas seemed the most unprotected.
"Oh how I've missed you...", the figure said through clenched teeth before his open arms quickly coming towards you. You unfreeze immediately, while his cryptic statement had thrown you off - he obviously knew you, or at least pretended to do so and he just...you didn't exactly know what his plan of attack was - would he just strangle you? Wrap you in his arms and break your spine? Your instincts and reflexes didn't turn their back on you, thankfully.
You ducked away, making him stumble forward while you desperately tried to make an approach that wouldn't end with you in your grave. You managed to dodge his attacks for the most part - apart from a few scratches and marks from his clawlike fingers on your hands and face and a wound on your knee from slipping on the icy road you were unharmed. You'd managed to throw a couple of punches yourself throwing him off his rythm more than once - but the situation seemed lost as he wrapped his hands around your throat, claws too close to digging into your flesh.
Your hands went from trying to tear his wrists away to hanging loosely while you stared at his damaged mask - it was cracked.
You'd underestimated how solid the thing would be when you punched it, making your knuckles bleed and burn in pain.You realised that his grip wasn't tight enough to kill you anytime soon - he was taking his time. Or was he... holding back?
You clenched your jaw as the idea came to mind.He was, presumably, staring straight back at you. You stare at him as you bring your hands up in one quick motion, and while your left foot finds its way to kick him right in the balls you tear the mask away.
He lets go of your neck, groaning in pain and you land on the street, sharp pain from the impact coursing through your body.
You grit your teeth together as you slowly move your head to look up at the man and your eyes widen in terror. "...Gabriel?", you call out, your voice strained and broken. There was no doubt about it. Your beloved commander and more importantly - Lover -back in the day - Gabriel Reyes. In the flesh. Though he looked a little off. His eyes were glowing. A wound on the side of his face seemed to try to repair itself only to be torn open again. His face generally looked like a torn up leather jacket, for the lack of a better comparison.
He stares down at you and you can't decipher the emotion on his face. Was it anger? Or disappointment? Or was there something else there, that you didn't quite know how to explain? Worry?
Tears slowly start to fill your eyes, emotions overwhelming you. You couldn't think of a reason. You didn't know why he chose to attack you. Your lower lip quivers as you slowly back away, still on the ground. It's not him. It can't be.
Gabriel Reyes died. He died. You grieved and cried and prayed for him to come back but..the thought of him coming back was more comforting than the situation you were currently in.
"Cariño-", he begins, coming closer, kneeling down in front of you. You shy away, closing your eyes, facing the ground as you let out a terrified whimper, holding a hand in front of your face, bracing for impact.
"Look at me, please...", he says, gently grabbing your wrist with one hand, the other tilting your chin up. Your breaths are shaky as you hesitantly open your eyes to stare into his.
"...Why did you attack me?", you manage to croak out. Gabriel sighs, the hand that had previously rested below your chin gently stroking your cheek. The claws ever so close to scratching your skin again.
You couldn't believe it. The eyes staring back at you so similar to the ones you thought you had lost.
"I wasn't trying to attack you...", He tries to explain. "I-", he cuts himself off, looking at the scratches he'd marked you with, regret filling his expression. "I'm sorry.", he breathes out.
You take a shaky, deep breath. "Then what were you trying to do?"
"It isn't wrong of me to want to hug my boyfriend, is it?", he asks, and you can practically feel how this man really is Gabriel. Your Gabriel. Just by the tone of his voice, his way with words his... stupidity.
"Oh yeah, because a weird masked man lashing out at me with weird claw hands definitely isn't terrifying as hell.", you snap, rolling your eyes. You weren't sure what to feel - you were angry. But also...relieved. And confused. And very, very conflicted.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know how else to-...", His sentence dies down as he brings the hand that had previously held your wrist to intertwine with your hand. The other hand strokes through your hair and you take another deep breath as Gabriel eyes you up and down, his view lingering on your face.
