we going….the professor!gwil route because…. why the fuck NOT ..??,,?...also i wrote a whole ass BOOK for this... strap in
Professor Lee was a sort of enigma at university; he had just been hired as a new professor of British literature, and although he proved his competency with lecturing and complex analysis of difficult pieces of writing–nobody was quite sure why he was hired. They were convinced this had to be some sort of social experiment; never in your university’s long history had their ever been a professor as utterly perfect as Mr. Lee. The counselors and admissions staff had to know this; you couldn’t look at the man without leaving flustered or uneasy about your own attractiveness. But also, professor Lee would never do anything to make anybody feel lesser; he was exceptionally sweet and passionate about his job title. While many professors with seniority were more than happy to lecture in raggedy golf shirts and loose-fitting trousers, he arrived to work every day with a crisp button-up and nicely fitted dress pants, his hair flawlessly groomed and beautifully symmetrical like the smile on his face.
Girls shuffled in the first row to ogle at his tall figure, the way his jaw tensed when he was a bit frustrated about the villainy of a Shakespearean character–as if he hadn’t read the play hundreds of times before. They bit their lips almost in unison when he pushed his round glasses up his strong nose; legs crossed as he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and leaned over his desk to emphasize a point. You understood why girls lusted after him; you had found yourself pressing your thighs together at your seat whenever he would make eye contact with you, even if for a few bittersweet seconds. But you found yourself staying after class to ask questions–no underlying intentions flooded even the depths of your subconscious. You were frustrated, unable to understand the analytical points about Hamlet he had spent the last few lectures illustrating with animated gestures and eloquent wording. But he was too eloquent to ever glean an ounce of knowledge; his voice was impossibly soothing, smooth and silky and almost luxurious to listen to. You found yourself yawning into a closed fist as his lecture ended; his voice was so euphoric you found yourself dozing off quite a few times throughout the two hour class. You closed your laptop and walked to professor Lee’s desk, suddenly feeling small and insignificant in the presence of him. His eyebrows were furrowed, a red pen tucked between pillowy pink lips as he marked last week’s quizzes. The girl who sat next to you had done very poorly, probably hoping he would scribble a cliché “see me after class” at the top.
“Can I help you, miss Y/N?” He asked, capping his pen and averting his deep cobalt eyes to you. He took you in completely, looking at your exposed legs underneath a skirt, a soft cable knit sweater falling off the slope of your shoulders a bit as you pushed some hair behind your head. Even though he was sitting down, he was still quite imposing, and you found your legs trembling a bit.
“Well–” You squeaked, thumbing your copy of Hamlet that you had set on his desk, flipping it to the act you had been assigned the week before. “I guess I just don’t understand–the allegory here,” You pointed to a specific line, nibbling on your lip as you tapped your fingers on the desk.
“Probably because you were half-asleep during the entirety of the lecture today.” He said this nonchalantly, skimming over the line your finger was trembling over. But a smile trickled over his features, and you knew he was just teasing you.
“Oh–I’m sorry sir.” You mumbled, scratching your forearm nervously. “I’m just a bit sleepy today.”
“What’s keeping you up at night, sweetheart?” He asked, his pinky brushing against the back of your hand as he began to annotate your copy with his vibrant pen.
The affectionate name made you flush in the cheeks and you had to stifle a whimper as you felt his breath fanning over your shoulder.
“It’s all representative of the inevitability of death. The shared fate of every being on earth that, in a way,” He brushed some hair over your shoulder, his eyes flitting upwards from behind the lenses of his glasses. “--show that we’re the same; not much different from even the most--high-class people. That it doesn’t really matter.” His eyes were focused on your lips now; he loved how the soft mauve lipstick on your mouth had feathered out a bit, making your lips look unbelievably pink and kissable. Gwilym’s eyes trailed to your cleavage unintentionally, and he reverted his focus back on your face quickly after.
“That what doesn’t matter?” You almost whimpered, your lips parting as you looked at his own do the same.
“Differences. Between people.” His hand found your waist. It was large and warm, heavy even. “Differences between us.”
You tilted your head and felt gravitated towards him--which explained why your hands found his hair as his fell over your ass, squeezing slightly as you shared desperate, messy kisses. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and he pushed it into your mouth, pulling your body into his as he sat down in his desk chair, pushing your legs apart so you straddled him.
“Sir--we shouldn’t.” You whined, feeling obligated to say that since it was such a taboo situation--but your grabbing of his hair said something entirely antithetical.
“You don’t want this, sweetheart?” He sucked an open-mouthed kiss upon your sternum, his cock hardening underneath you. “You make me so--” He gasped, grabbing your hip with one hand as his other pulled your hair back to expose your neck to him. “so fuckin’ hard. such a pretty girl in these cute little outfits.” His fingers rubbed at the hem of your skirt as he kissed up the column of your throat, pushing your lips onto his own.
“More--I need more, sir.” You moaned and whimpered, clawing at his scalp as his tongue massaged yours, his hands now kneading the soft skin of your ass.
“Oh, fuck--” He hissed as your pussy ground against his cock deliciously. “God you’re so fuckin’ cute. Thought you were such a little goody-two-shoes, and here you are rubbing your little clit on your professor’s cock.” He slapped your ass harshly and softly pried your mouth open with his tongue. “Keep it open.” He gazed into your eyes and rutted his hips against your core as he spit into your mouth, watching his saliva pool on your tongue.
You whimpered, your eyes becoming hooded as you swallowed everything he gave you.
“Good girl.” He praised, pushing your panties to the side to rub at your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb.
You gasped and pulled on his hair, grinding into his touches.
“That feels good, doesn’t it baby?” So good.” He delved his middle finger inside you easily, groaning at the wet sounds your slick cunt was making around his digit. “So tight. Such a delicate little pussy; don’t think you’re ready to be fucked yet.” He marveled, pressing harder on your clit, watching intently as your eyes rolled back.
You whined, feeling defeated. “I--I need to cum, please.” You pleaded, pulling on his collar as you kissed his neck hungrily.
“Needy little thing.” He commented, pulling you closer to him by your waist. “How about you cum all over my thighs? Wanna ride my thighs until you’re a trembling, cute little mess?” Running a thumb over your cheekbone, he admired your doe-eyes, looking so desperate, accentuated by deeply flushed cheeks. “Precious girl.”
You nodded at his offer, unbuttoning a few buttons of his shirt and running your hands down his chest, feeling the soft patch of hair extending down the slightly tanned, soft skin. It was so intimate, so wrong to feel down your professor’s body--but that was the thing that made you keen for more. “Please,” You scratched his scalp and he rolls his head to the side, completely overwhelmed by how much fucking lust he had for you--his student.
“Fuck yourself on my thigh, angel.” He held your hips down against his thick, muscular thigh, rocking you against him experimentally. He felt your wetness soak through the black fabric and he moaned, relishing in how you were trembling in his arms. “Yeah--rub that little clit right along my thigh--” He pulled you along his leg and you gasp loudly, so loudly that he clasps a hand over your mouth. “That’s the spot, isn’t it sweetie?” His tone was almost patronizing, but you love it.
“It feels so good--I’m gonna cum,” You announced, grasping onto his collar so tightly you were sure a simple ironing job wouldn’t smooth the creases you were folding into the expensive material. “Oh--fuck. I love it so much,”
“Good girl--cum for me. I’ve got you. Doing so well for me.” He cooed, squeezing your breasts through your sweater and peppering kisses along your collarbones. “So fuckin’ pretty.” He yanked your sweater over your head and pulled the cups of your bra down as you rocked your hips faster. His lips attached to your hardened nipples, pebbled from arousal and the whirring air conditioner near Gwilym’s desk.
You came as soon as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, his eyes staring up at you while you fucked yourself against his thigh--just like he asked. He praised you like a personal mantra of his, feeling his own premature release spurt over the front of his pants as you palmed him eagerly, his head rolling back as he let out a pornographic, drawn-out groan.
Gwilym shoved a hand through his hair and panted, assessing the wet spot on his trousers. “Fuck--”
“You should be able to get that out; I could give you some tips,” You offered, playing with some hair at the nape of his neck.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “God, you’re so fucking cute.” He smiled. “It’s not that,” He glanced at the analog clock on the wall. “My three o’clock lecture was supposed to begin eleven minutes ago.”
Gwil having enough of your bratty attitude and deciding that just one day of punishment wasn’t enough. Every day he’ll give you a spanking whenever he felt like it and if your attitude got worse, the punishments getting worse along with it ;) happy Valentine’s Day lovey 💕💖💕💖💕💖
YE S
Give me Gwilym being an absolutly exasperated dom but he cant help but love you so much I'm Mega Gay™️ omg!! 💞 He loves being able to to get you over his knee and make you behave (for a few minutes, at least) at any given moment
