Definitely not thinking about professor keigo catching touya and reader fucking in an empty classroom
ooooh fuck anon he’d be downright furious!!!!!!!
tw: student professor relationship, public sex, noncon, infidelity | words: 477
honestly, touya wishes his phone had been within reach, the moment keigo unassumingly walks through the door into his usual lecture hall to find touya not only fucking his favourite student, but fucking his favourite student over his goddamn desk.
because, really, it’s a sight worthy of being preserved forever: steaming coffee and half eaten pastry falling to the floor, staining his loafers; jaw dropping open for half a second in pure, unadulterated shock, subconsciously allowing appal and devastation to bleed through his features before fierce fury mops it up; voice getting caught in his throat, whatever he was about to say materializing into the most pathetic sound touya’s ever heard—a hoarse little whimper biting the back of his favourite professor’s tongue.
“i told you,” you’re whining out in little huffs, chest stuttering with each pound into you.
you did, he knows, bitched about how you totally do not have enough time to do this before he returns—which is exactly why touya did do it. and he’s sure the absolute delight at getting caught shows on his face—the arrogant satisfaction that his little plan worked stitched into the smug smirk, lopsided and spread across one half of his face; into the little glimmers of amusement, delight, glee that glitter in his eyes with each of the snickers crawling up his throat, with each sharp breath exhaled through keigo’s flared nostrils, with each clench of keigo’s jaw and each moan he fucks out of you; into the raised eyebrow that mocks keigo, that silently challenges him to do something.
and even though you’re acting upset, hissing at touya to stop and body squirming under his big hands, he can feel the way your cunt clenches around his cock, can hear those poorly stifled mewls that you’re so desperately trying to swallow, that keep shattering your sentences and wounding your words anyway, can see the way your lashes keep fluttering, the way your eyes keep rolling, the way your tongue keeps tripping over itself with each ruthless thrust, apologies knotting with muffled whimpers and hiccupped gasps.
touya idly wonders aloud if keigo’s going to be interesting for once, if keigo will play with him this time, slight breathlessness and slapping skin the only indication that he’s railing the absolute life out of you.
but keigo’s above this—which is to say he’s a coward and no fun at all, in touya’s opinion—and refuses to give touya the gratification he’s seeking, despite the rage that’s blistering his chest, that’s burning his eyes, that’s blazing in the words callously spit from between grinding teeth when he tells touya to get the fuck out before he calls the police, voice trembling ever-so-slightly as his gaze meets yours, a fraction of the ferocity fading from his tone when he vows to deal with you later.
anonymous said: something that's been on my mind for a while about the dark academia au is, you know how in some books/movies there are like small groups of elite students that meet with the professor in a more casual setting and have gatherings and little parties? well imagine that with prof. keigo and a few select students of his class, and he extends an invitation to reader, while trying to avoid touya crashing those fancy gatherings. like touya never bothered with them but when he hears reader was invited..
characters: takami keigo, todoroki touya
notes: just a lil something set in my dark academia au!! there’s no smut (yet) but it’s still 18+. as always please heed the warnings!
warnings: 18+ minors dni, student-professor relationship, age gap, one mention of the word sir, implied manipulation, implied spanking/punishment, toxic relationships, reader is viewed as a prize to be won, touya is an annoying rich boy, keigo is a history prof
words: 1.9k
synopsis:
And for a moment, he feels bad. For a moment, you look as though you may cry, chin puckered as your head shakes in slight little movements, as if to say that’s not what we were doing, I didn’t mean it! For a moment, he nearly forgets how disrespectful you’ve been behaving, all the while absentmindedly hooking your ankle around his from underneath the table and staying completely and entirely absorbed in whatever Touya’s prattling on about, hushed voices an undertone to the more general conversation happening amongst the rest of the table.
Everyone on campus knows of Professor Takami’s exclusive academic get-togethers, reserved for only the best of the best, the cream of the crop, the favoured among the favourites.
Professor Takami works hard on these small gatherings he puts together for his students; meticulous little events he spends hours planning, painstakingly pouring over the details, for his best students and his best students only.
Occurring monthly, they’re always a different activity, and always somehow—albeit vaguely—related to course material: discussions over extravagant dinners pertaining to whatever their present topic in class entails, trips to galleries and museums that have current exhibits correlated to course themes, theatres and films performing plays and screening features about a certain event he might’ve briefly touched on—all a treat, he says, all paid for entirely out of his own pocket.
Because his top students deserve a small gift every once in a while, don’t they? Something to stimulate their minds, or their senses, to get them thinking about the material in new, different ways, and to find enjoyment in it all, he claims.
And although they’re conducted in a way which implies that they aren’t meant to be exclusive, advertised in a way that suggests that anyone in any of his classes can attend—so long as they keep their average above 85% in his class—everyone knows they aren’t; not really, anyway.
The infamous club’s rules dictate that the moment a student’s average dips, they are no longer invited to join in on the festivities—though his favourite students’ averages never drop; they’d never allow a spot to slip away from them, never allow an opportunity to spend more time with him outside of a classroom setting to be taken from them.
Well, that, and Professor Takami is a notoriously difficult grader—and maybe he plays favourites, just a little; maybe he grades his favourite students a hint less harsh than he normally does; maybe.
You, of course, are always invited. And you always come, just like the good little girl you are, dressed in your smartest outfits, eyes bright and ready to impress him. And he fucking loves it.
But he has to pick and choose, he tells himself. He has to be selective with who he allows to join, offers extended and spots reserved for only the top five percent among all of his classes—which a certain someone is, infuriatingly and unfortunately, a part of. In fact, if Keigo were being honest, if Keigo were marking him normally, properly, said someone would undoubtedly be the best student among all of his classes.
Which is to say, Touya Todoroki is also technically invited to every single one of these outings, is technically allowed to show up to whichever event he’d like, is technically a part of Keigo’s cherished little club.
And Kegio’s tried, for Christ sake, tried to mark the asshole as low as he can, tried to fuck up his GPA by deducting points for the most trivial reasons, tried to bring the fucker’s average down to an 84, just a percent lower than required to qualify as a member of the club. But Touya’s a natural genius, with a powerful father looming behind him, and there’s only so much Keigo can do.
It isn’t too bothersome, though, because Touya never does show. Or—he never did, until he knew you were attending, too.
This month, the event happens to be a sit-down dinner at one of the city’s finest Greek restaurants. It really doesn’t have much to do with anything, you’re all sure of it, but Professor Takami claims it’s to compare what you’ve studied about the cultural role of food in ancient civilization to the contemporary Greek food you’ll be consuming tonight. As such, no one is allowed to order the same dish—Professor’s orders. And, really, who are any of you to disagree?
He materializes almost out of thin air, it seems, mere moments after the server has taken everyone’s order.
Wearing one of those stupid Balenciaga sweaters, he waltzes into the restaurant, alabaster hair tousled just right, as if he had walked here—he didn’t—as if he had let the wind run its fingers through the strands tenderly, styling them with the utmost care, one hand stuffed in the pocket of dark jeans.
Of course, he knew where the gathering would be—by university protocol, Keigo has to include him in the private mailing list, since he qualifies to be a part of the club should he choose to do so—but he didn’t RSVP, like Keigo always asks his students to, which means there isn’t an extra seat at their table.
Keigo’s positive the fucker did it on purpose—that shit-eating grin carved into Touya’s handsome face tells him so.
Bowing slightly, Touya greets the hostess, and she seems happy enough to see him, calling one of the waiters over as they chat animatedly. A slender finger points in the general direction of the class table, and the employees begin nodding immediately, the waiter rushing off towards the kitchen to gather an additional place-setting as the hostess leads him towards the table, grabbing an extra chair on their way.
And, as luck would have it, Touya ends up directly beside you, chair nestled against yours, knee pressed into yours—or, maybe it wasn’t luck, maybe the motherfucker specified that he wanted to be seated next to you, graciously requesting it with those glittering eyes and that misleading smile.
Maybe Keigo’s just paranoid.
Thick, palpable tension blankets the table as Touya settles in, dense and suffocating smoke that leaks from the golden blaze ignited in Keigo’s eyes, the rest of the table choking on their greetings.
“You didn’t RSVP,” Keigo says flatly, glaring at the younger man from across the table.
“Whoops, sorry,” he smirks, eyebrow quirked ever-so-slightly—a challenge. “Must’ve slipped my mind,”
“Y-You never come to these things,” the words are meek, shuddering under the weight of nerves, your eyes flitting to him for a moment.
“No,” Touya begins, turning his stare towards you, smirk growing into a devious grin. “I don’t. But my father knows the owners of this place, so I thought I’d stop by and say hey. Two birds with one stone,” he shrugs a shoulder.
You turn away from his inquisitive crystal eyes, so bright they nearly burn, downcast gaze focused on the fine china placed in front of you as you murmur out some response, and Touya’s smile only widens.
The two of you stay off in your own little world for the majority of the dinner—too busy whispering things to one another, sharing soft giggles and bashful looks interspersed with predatory smiles and sharp gazes, pinkies entwined; hooking, unhooking, hooking, unhooking—as you talk amongst yourselves.
It’s driving Keigo fucking insane, fingers flexing around the intricate silverware clutched in fists so tight he’s surprised it hasn’t snapped the utensil.
It’s rude to attend an event and not participate in the conversation, he says, words bordering on a growl, about two thirds of the way through the dinner, when he simply cannot stand the sight of the two of you anymore.
His voice snaps you out of whatever little world Touya had built for you, whatever little trap Touya had ensnared you in, eyes flying to your Professor’s face and lips pushing into an automatic pout.
And for a moment, he feels bad. For a moment, you look as though you may cry, chin puckered as your head shakes in slight little movements, as if to say that’s not what we were doing, I didn’t mean it! For a moment, he nearly forgets how disrespectful you’ve been behaving, all the while absentmindedly hooking your ankle around his from underneath the table and staying completely and entirely absorbed in whatever Touya’s prattling on about, hushed voices an undertone to the more general conversation happening amongst the rest of the table.
But then Touya speaks for you, strong and self-assured just as he always is, shoulders rolled back and chest puffed, a lazy grin decorating his face—and all of Keigo’s blistering fury returns, raging flames licking at his ribs, heat collecting behind his sternum, breathing deep and slow.
“That’s not it at all, Professor,” he ensures, Keigo’s esteemed title coated in the thinnest layer of derision. “We were simply discussing the differences between the desserts offered on the menu today, versus the desserts that were commonly consumed during ancient times,”
And Keigo can’t say anything, because Keigo doesn’t know what you were discussing, can’t be one hundred percent sure Touya’s statement isn’t a blatant lie.
But you’re nodding along eagerly, glimmering eyes imploring him to understand, almost begging for his forgiveness in a single look, bottom lip beginning to quiver slightly.
And it’s with this look that Keigo’s reminded that he has you, a hawk with its prey caged between razor talons, a precious little girl on the verge of tears, ready to plead like a child in front of her most respected peers, because she can’t stand the thought of her Professor being angry at her.
But that isn’t enough for Keigo, not today, not with the way you’ve been acting all night long. Instead of extinguishing under your twitching nose and beseeching stare, the fire rages, higher, hotter, hurtful. Mouth set in a firm, fine line, his eyes harden, jaw clenched and eyebrows pinched, head tilting to the side as if to question you. The glare has your eyes glazing over, a thick shield of tears cast across them, and Touya scoffs, rolling his eyes as a thumb caresses your cheekbone, leaning in to mutter something in your ear, too low for Keigo to catch. Your head shakes in jerky movements, and Touya frowns, speaking again.
“How about we get out of here after this, hm?”
And that, that is said loud enough for Keigo to hear.
“Yeah?” he continues, fingertips tracing your jaw as he pulls back to study your profile, your gaze directed straight ahead. “Come home with me?”
But your stare is still fixated on your Professor across the table, captivated by his own and spilling a million sentiments over your lashes—and oh, Keigo knows, Keigo knows you won’t accept, knows you wouldn’t dare to upset Sir like that, knows you know you’re in for one hell of a punishment the moment this is over.
The whispered declination that falls from your lips feels like a monumental win, and Keigo can’t help the way the corners of his mouth tug upward, finally breaking your gaze, an eyebrow raising as Touya’s eye catches his own, the younger man’s jaw flexing with the grinding of his molars.
“What about tomorrow, then?” he recovers quickly, the whole interaction between him and his Professor lasting mere milliseconds—too quick for anyone else to catch, he’s sure—thumb and forefinger clasping your chin and forcing your gaze towards his. “You mentioned you were having difficulty with the most recent course material; I can help, if you’d like,” his eyes languidly float back to Keigo’s, easygoing smirk back in place. “I am the best in the class, you know,”
And although you agree, promising to meet Touya at one of the libraries on campus, Keigo smiles, eyes darting between his two students, a sense of competitiveness blossoming warmly in his chest. Because although you’ll be stuck with this jackass tomorrow, he knows the whole thing is a competition—with you as the grand prize—and he refuses to back down.
Oh, and don’t worry, Keigo will be sure you’re too sore to concentrate on anything other than the marks his palms are about to leave on your ass during your little ‘study session’, vow murmured into your ear as he guides you out of the restaurant later that night, large hand on the small of your back, fingertips digging into your flesh slightly through the material of your dress. He promises.
✨tmi✨ but i just got railed in a classroom closet after professor left the room and i feel like this is something DA touya would do (don’t judge me-)
ANON I WOULD NEVER JUDGE YOU oh my GOD i am so jealous!!!!! that sounds so hot what the heck!!!! ugh the closest i’ve ever come to that is fucking in my boyfriend’s family’s board game closet LMAO
and that is absolutely something DA!touya would do, 100%. and yes, of course it’s professor keigo’s classroom, because why wouldn’t it be? <3
bro, imagine a scenario of Prof! Keigo getting jealous when reader becomes invested and attentive to other professors. ofc the ohso innocent reader didn't mean to make him so jealous (or did they?).
Keigo just hates how he can't control his emotions and how he could be manipulated by reader who spares him only the smallest amount of attention. I'd love to see the scumbag and arrogant professor get a taste of his own medicine. 😈
I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS AAAAAH and don’t you worry anon, in the dark academia fic you WILL see prof keigo get quite a hefty dose of his own medicine hehehehe 🙊 not with other profs tho so!! i wrote u something small that, tbh, kinda veers off into angst and away from your prompt, because i feel like all i write lately is prof keigo being super mean and punishing and wanted to explore him being a lil more vulnerable <3 i hope u still enjoy it tho, and i hope you really really enjoy the main series when it comes out!! <333
tw: student professor relationship, jealousy, lil bit of angst, lil bit of sap | words: 608
It’s stupid—he knows it’s stupid, knows he’s being a fucking idiot, knows none of it is true; mere fabrications whispered to him by jealousy, crawling through his brain. It’s stupid, but he can’t seem to help it, unable to keep himself from snapping and snarking at you, responding to your genuine questions with sarcasm and regarding you with skepticism when you answer his.
At first, you don’t know what the heck his problem is, why he’s acting so rude, so suspicious, hawk-like eyes observing you carefully, scrutinizing your features as he hunts for lies and falsities.
It’s only when he seethes out an answer to another of your sincere questions, one warm winter afternoon in his office, asking if you’re fucking stupid and conjuring a thin film of tears to shield your eyes and a sharp gasp to claw its way up your throat, looking as though he had physically slapped you, that he realizes just how awful he’s been, something cracking and piercing in his chest with each of your quiet little sniffles.
Because, really, it isn’t your fault. He knows this, too, tries in vain to remind himself of it, but it’s hard when memories—phantom echoes of other professors’ voices—float around his brain in a dense haze, talking about your talent as a scholar, your sweet nature, your surprising intellect and tenacity, voices drenched in pure adoration. It’s not as if they were being inappropriate when they spoke these compliments, either, true and honest in all of their comments, authentic admiration sown into their tones when they discussed how much of a joy it is to have you in a class, what a treat it is to have you visit office hours armed with intriguing questions that challenge their notions and force them to defend their positions, what a privilege it is to teach a student like you.
And he knows they just appreciate you, knows they only respect you as an academic, knows you aren’t fucking any other professors—yet he’s powerless to curb the spikes of envy that tear through his chest at the thoughts, incapable of quieting the wispy ghosts of these sentiments that morph from honour and esteem to horny and erotic as they swirl around in his skull.
Heat seeps into his cheeks as he apologizes in a mumble, as he tells you what’s actually bothering him, eyes fixated on the pen he’s twirling between his fingers, unable to meet your gaze. He half expects you to laugh, because he knows he’s the one being absurd; half expects you to get angry, upset, offended at such a thought—an accusation, almost; a crude misinterpretation of your character—instinctively wincing as the last of his explanation tumbles from his lips, anticipating your reaction.
But you surprise him, just like you always do, with a soft sigh and a gentle grin, climbing into his lap to cuddle against his chest and nuzzle into his neck, fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck as you reassure him that he’s cute, but don’t worry, you’re fine and it’s nice to see him show some natural human insecurity—to know he’s not actually a robot and it’s okay to ask for reassurance sometimes, y’know.
The words ease the tension that’s been building in his chest, heavy and suffocating, and for the first time in weeks, he feels like he can breathe again, body oozing into your touch, more and more and more with each tender affirmation whispered into his flesh and every sweet kiss pressed to his skin and, God, he thinks he might be in love with you.
The dark academia world is full of competitive people and those who look down on people that come from humbler backgrounds... How do you think touya, tomura and professor keigo would react to that being directed towards the reader either by other professors or students in her class??
anon i am utterly in love with this ask
they would all be furious, of course. they know how brilliant she is despite her shabby background, they know she shines among the brightest students in each of her classes, and they know she is so much more than her past, than where she comes from and what baggage she carries with her.
it hits keigo the hardest. having come from a rough background himself, he knows what it feels like to not be accepted, to be judged on something that was completely and entirely out of your control, and to be so harshly assessed based on something so sensitive, stuffed full of hurt and suffering, tender to the touch. the moment keigo finds out, he takes her somewhere private, pulls her into his office and sits her on the plush couch, and makes it explicitly known that she still has worth despite her past, that her past doesn’t make her any less of an academic or any less deserving than anyone else at this university (if anything, in his mind, it makes her more deserving, but he refrains from telling her so for fear of sounding like a hypocrite. he also refrains from divulging that he will absolutely be having a, um, talk with those professors—a talk that includes threatening retribution on the grounds of discrimination if they don’t cease such despicable behaviour).
touya is livid; touya is borderline murderous when she mumbles it out one night during a study session, as if this is no big deal, as if she’s used to it. how dare someone make his baby feel fucking inadequate, when she is one of the sharpest, most clever people he’s ever met. her wit rivals his own sometimes, and she can make him laugh harder than anyone else ever could, and she’s always got an answer—a crafty quip, a genuine counterargument, a cute lil joke—for everything. he’s never met anyone like her, and to suggest, to even hint at all, that she somehow isn’t good enough, isn’t as good as all those pretentious pricks that come from piles of money such as himself just because she doesn’t, is absolutely ridiculous and starkly untrue. he tells her all of this, ranting with aggravated hand gestures and a voice rising in volume as he paces the length of their desk in the library, prompting the librarian to ask him to keep it down several times. if anyone isn’t worth it, he’s seething, words fading into a growl as his feet skid to a stop, turning those glowing sapphire eyes on her. it’s those fuckers, baby. pay them no mind, one day you’ll be queen of the world, i just know it.
tenko is visibly upset, forehead crinkling and eyes narrowing in confusion, as if he can’t believe someone would ever treat her in such a manner, can’t even begin to comprehend it. once his brain computes what she said, though, he reassures in his trademark bluntly honest nature that those people are fucking idiots and not worth even a shred of her attention. he asks if she’d like to get them expelled and fired, completely serious, promising that his father could make it a reality at the snap of a finger. when she denies his offer with all those sweet giggles and soft gazes, telling him that she appreciates it—really, she does, but it’s okay, he promises her that the proposition is indefinite, and if she ever has a change of heart, just to let him know.
Thinking about dark academia professor Keigo making you lie back on his mammoth bed and hold your legs up to your chest, spread your pussy nice and wide for him and count as he delivers merciless punishing slaps to your poor pussy. He ignores the tears in your eyes and your pleading sobs for mercy, that you’ve learned your lesson now, that you’re sorry and that you’ll be a good girl. But theres no light in the eyes that you desperately search from behind wet lashes. So you continue to count.
absolutely in love with this, anon, absolutely in LOVE!!! you really captured the genuinely cold, harsh, stern nature that resides underneath it all <3 and you’re right, he’d be fucking ruthless when delivering punishments, no sympathy, no compassion, no warmth whatsoever; if you’ve misbehaved you deserve to get punished—fully punished—no ifs, ands, or buts about it. how else are you supposed to learn your lesson if he goes soft on you, if he allows you to slip away before your punishment is complete? what kind of message does that send? sooo good bb thank you for sharing!! <33
What kind of academic disciplines do you think prof keigo, touya and tenko would enjoy the most/be very good at in the DA AU??
awesome question anon!!! they’re all in the humanities in one way or another. professor keigo is a classics professor with a specialization in ancient literature and ancient philosophy, though because he is the youngest faculty member he also gets stuck with the massive intro to classics class, which touches on and covers a broad area of topics—basically an overview of classics as a whole. he is also very interested in the role of food within ancient civilizations and cultures, though he does not do much academic work on that topic.
this anon suggested psychology for touya + history for tenko, which i love, but i have always seen touya as a philosophy major first and foremost. he is extremely intelligent and loves to debate and theorize, and nothing beats that pretty, sharp glint in his eye and that rush of pride that gushes through his chest whenever he talks someone into a defeated, shameful corner with only languid words + intellect as his weapons. so he is majoring or specializing in philosophy and minoring in psychology (purely to help him better understand how to manipulate others. he finds matters of the mind fascinating).
tenko is a history major with a minor in business—the minor in business is a half-assed attempt to pacify his father, who is intent on him inheriting and taking over the family business, even though tenko has no interest in that whatsoever. he desperately wishes he was a computer science major—that’s what he truly enjoys, that’s what he’s truly good at—but his father threatened to not pay for his uni tuition unless tenko chose something more ‘sophisticated’, and threatened to pull his inheritance completely if tenko refused to go to university at all. irregardless of how much he hates his studies, tenko is still in the top five percent of most of his classes.
Oh to be Professor Keigo's star pupil. Sending an upskirt photo of your different, increasingly scanty, panties each day on your lunch break. Until one day there's panties at all n.n
THIS IS CANON IN MY AU THIS IS FUCKING CANON OH MY GOD ANON
tw: student professor relationship, implied cheating
the first time it happens, he laughs it off, thinking you’re just being a little playful, just being a little tease, just having a little fun. that he can handle—he has a sense of humour, too, of course, and he thinks it’s cute, thinks it’s sweet, thinks it’s almost precious in a way, the photo holding a paradoxical sense of naughty innocence, as though they’re subtly imbued with an essence of voyeurism, even though he knows they aren’t—and he likes it, texting back a photo of those smooth, large hands you love so much, a pen lazily perched between his nimble fingers along with a caption that reads two can play this game, never expecting it to go further than this.
except it continues to happen, phone vibrating with a new photo every afternoon: those cute cotton panties with the pretty lace trim that he had gifted you, clinging delicately to your flesh; sheer red chiffon that sticks to you like a second skin and leave little to the imagination—touya’s doing, no doubt; expensive satins and silks in ivory and blush, lavish and extravagant and absurdly costly for underwear—definitely from tenko; day after day after day, accelerating from cheeky bikini cuts to teasing tulle to strappy thongs to absolutely nothing at all.
and he can’t help but wonder, are you sending these to the other two men, too? the question sears through his mind, chased by a flash of scalding anger while sharp envy corrodes his chest, consuming flesh and bone as it gnaws away, breathe escaping his lips in little wheezes.
and you—well, you think you’re getting away with it, giggles bubbling up in your throat with each of your professors increasingly irritated responses—a certain type of giddiness that makes you feel heady and powerful buzzing through your veins; a sensation that comes packaged with the knowledge that you have such an intense effect on him—until finally he shatters, phone buzzing with a threat almost immediately after the pantyless photo, reading: that’s enough. you better be outside my fucking office the moment class ends—an order not to be disobeyed.
author note: ooooh he is so done fucking around!!! no more games reader ur really gonna get it now!!! hahaha sorry to leave you high and dry but i’m a tease just like the reader <333 ehehehe no it’s actually because i’m writing something in his office right now so!!!!!! oh my god you know he’d be so fucking furious tho lmao and he’s definitely worked himself into a frenzied panic draped in hazy jealousy for no reason at all (or is it? 😈)!!! but he’s so cruel and stern and he absolutely hates being played with :( unless he gets his revenge, of course :) then it’s fun; then it’s worth it <3
