Cece what are your opinions on Professor Ackerman…..
(hi i made him a harmony professor, so it's technically niche, but hopefully not too niche.)
OH, Sar… I have opinions alright. this was gonna be a short thirst, around 500 words or so... ~2,000 words later, here we are and i am suffering from Professor Ackerman brainrot 😩😩😩
I am going to do this from sfw going to nsfw, so there'll be a (read more) section further down.
Let's start, shall we?
(@sakurashell bc i teased u with this this morning)
(content warnings: age-gap relationships both sexual and romantic, professor-student dynamic, general nsfw content, soooorta dom!levi, but not to the point he’s an asshole. Afab!reader (reader is wearing a dress) and has female anatomy.
He's definitely the cool, calm, collected professor. Known as a great educator, but a tough marker on projects and exams. Some people are very quick to call him a prick, an asshole… And sure, we all don't like a professor stingy with marks, but some people realize it's for the marks. He's always looking to give marks, never to punish and take away.
His face is naturally one of a scowl, but it's nothing personal. He's just getting older, more caffeine-dependent and is thinking of a career break on the down low. Perhaps he might do some more research, or write another paper. He's a bit tired of teaching; again, nothing personal.
He tends to take the (mandatory) advanced classes of harmony. All of you patter into the class, taking the first row. It's not a class that can be understood by snoozing in the back row.
You notice his fashion sense at first; the man is very well dressed. Not too formal, but not too casual. That isn’t to say he’s opposed to wearing a formal suit with matching leather shoes and belt that would make your jaw drop. But more often than not? Simple navy button down with a tie that has been loosened throughout the day and dark slacks. Of course, the sleeves are rolled back exposing his forearms. It’s not something he initially does on purpose, it’s a comfort thing. He hates the sleeves getting scrunched at his wrists. But the forearms… so lovely and toned, veiny and you can see the muscles over years of playing piano and perhaps working out too. Once the sleeves are rolled up, it’s harder and harder for you to concentrate.
The ministrations and the most subtle of flirting start small. You knew damn well how - despite it being legal - you could both get into trouble should anything arise from it, but you assumed he’d reject all your advances anyway, so it didn’t matter too much… right? So, you began to toe the line very slowly and steadily.
It started off by working a bit harder in his harmony class. You had always been good, but never top student standard. Enough for him to say “good work” when he corrected your homework at the piano, but there’d always be a few mistakes. So you figured to yourself: should you use these mistakes to your advantage by getting a bit of extra help? Or should you work harder to perfect your exercises so that he notices you trying hard and get his attention that way?
Both, both are good.
It’s a slow, meticulous and methodical process to flirt with your professor. Initially, some of your advances go unnoticed. But you continued to work hard until - uh-oh! - you didn’t do so well on an assignment. “See me after class, in my office.” He tells you and his tone is crisp and cold like the wintery air you had just escaped from outside.
His office away from the classroom with the grand piano he normally teaches in is definitely smaller, but cozier. He has a diffuser with ylang ylang oil billowing into the air and a cup of black tea on his desk. He has a blackboard in his room as he works out chord progressions and other musical questions, and the blackboard is covered. He is washing his hands from the chalk when you knock on his door. You come in and he’s drying his hands. His office is very clean, which is what you note instantly. To the left as you walk through, there is a black leather sofa with two plush cushions, and to the right is his desk.
You’re grateful that you wore something nice when seeing him because, one: he’s dressed pretty nicely himself and two: the dress was simply perfect. Just a floral dress that showed enough of your lovely legs, and it was tight enough too; not tight to the point it might be considered ‘inappropriate’ but it still left plenty to the imagination. And Levi was imaging alright, with every passing glance he made in your direction when your eyes were buried in your homework.
What ends up happening is a two hour tutor session, which neither of you intended but it was enjoyable nevertheless. Staring at each other with bitten lips to hold back anything you two might regret saying.
Soon, his own advances began.
Sometimes, Jean would playfully flirt with you in class and you’d just shrug it off; you knew he was always joking. The fair-haired man went ramrod stiff and straight, teeth suddenly chattering when your professor came out with, “I don’t think Miss. [L/n] appreciates that, Kirschtein.” The man suddenly had the urge to protect you and not have any guy flirt with you… or at the very least, the thought of any guy taking up your attention just made him cringe. He thought all these men were just brats. But he knew you had eyes for him - even if in just a lustful way - so he grinned and beared it. Gave a verbal warning if the guys were getting on his last words, but that was it. Besides, this warning was always given under the guise of him being ‘distracted from his teachings.’
The one-to-one tutoring sessions became a bit more regular. The subtle teasing continues when it all comes to a peak when you ‘accidentally’ drop a pencil. You’re wearing a low-ish cut top and you bend down in front of him and he sees the jiggle and movement of your breasts as your fingers crawl towards the pencil that was rolling under his desk. And that… is when the coil snapped.
You’re laying on top of his desk and he’s pushed the books to the floor. So messy, you think for a professor who is so clean and tidy. His lithe, sinewy fingers are walking up your beautiful legs, silver eyes flitting between the space between your legs and your captivating eyes of [e/c]. His lips press to the pulse point on your neck, and he’s planting open mouthed kisses all over to help you settle. He’s gentle, though (for now?) and always asking and checking in. He has to look behind him to make sure he has locked the door before he absolutely rocks your world with his fingers.
“Have the hots for your professor, hmm?” he whispers, huskily. The baritone of his voice is probably the hottest thing you have heard in an age. “I didn’t think…” he began, pausing to sink his fingers in between your sopping folds, “...you’d be so naughty, [f/n]...” he finishes, and his thumb has found your hardened bud and his massaging it in consistent circles.
His other hand’s thumb has slotted itself in your mouth and after his instruction to “suck”, your wet muscle wraps around his thumb giving him a show. He chuckles darkly and he leans to kiss your forehead.
“Now…” he instructs, sinking his fingers into your weeping hole. Your eyes have been screwed shut up til now, letting out choked moans and whimpers as his fingers gave you more pleasure than you have ever given yourself, or any man (or woman) before this, “look at the blackboard, and tell me what’s the next answer.”
“W-What…?” you ask for clarification before letting out a guttural moan when he hits your sweet spot. The squelching sounds of your cunt make you feel almost dizzy with want. Gosh, had he made you this wet already.
“You’ll answer my question, or I’ll stop…” he warns.
You throw your head back in irritation. Surely he wouldn’t… right? “Come on, Levi, you wouldn’t be so terrible.”
Jinx! His fingers left you warm, tight hole and the sight before you has you clenching and reading out for his fingers; he’s licking his fingers clean of your juices and letting out a few grunts and moans of his own, commenting on “how damn good you taste” and how he “can’t get enough.” His fingers return to where they were, but his movements are painstakingly slow now and you’re whining.
“Don’t be such a goddamn brat,” he growls in your ear, “just answer the question and I’ll give you everything you need right now.” And he teases, and teases, edging you on and on, and on and on until you scream out his name followed by the answer. “That’s a good fucking girl…” he whispers.
His fingers assault that special spot inside you again, getting lost in the sound of your wet pussy. It was addicting, and it was an obsession he never wanted to recover from. Your orgasm washed over you and your body seizes with pleasure as your arousal squirts onto the desk. He leans down, opening his mouth trying to catch all the droplets of your orgasm, before licking a stripe up your slit to your clit, his tongue carrying through the rest of your orgasm and into the depths of overstimulation.
He takes the dust cloth he had on his desk and he’s flipping you over again onto your tummy for more. He has months of sexual tension and teasing to let out and he fucks into you, the desk rattling and squeaks against the floor. When he decides it makes too much noise, he sits down on his chair and begs you to get on top. You begin to grind your cunt against his thick cock and tease his ear with a few peppery kisses.
“N-Never though– shit– that I’d see you in this position, Pr-Professor…” you choked out, and began to grind down even harder. You snapped your hips, rolling them a tad faster and that has your professor throwing his head back and letting out the richest moan. It’s unabashed, free - the moans tumbling from his lips as you dominate him - and he suddenly doesn’t care about the university’s admin, or the caretaker who routinely checks his office by now who is probably wondering what these noises are for.
“You look pretty when I ride you, Professor…” you slurred, drunk on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out, against your gummy walls. He lets out a groan and one hand goes to unbutton your top, and he takes a pebbled nipple in his mouth, teething coming around and letting the flat of his tongue smooth over it.
It isn’t long before he’s spilling inside you, painting your velvety walls white (because god forbid he gets his chair dirty) with thick ropes of his cum and he assists you onto his desk again, noting that your legs are too wobbly to stand. He takes a few tissues and cleans up your dripping entrance. But your heart warms at the gesture because as he’s cleaning you up, he’s kissing your forehead, your neck, your breasts, and he does this so softly as if he didn’t just make you both cum your brains out. He’s whispering praises too, and for a second, you don’t feel like a student who has a crush on her professor, but as someone he has come to care for too.
(“Took me so well…” or, “You felt amazing…”)
He goes to the clear-blue water dispenser in the other corner of his office and hands you a plastic cup of ice-cold water.
“I can’t do much to… take care of you in this setting… But can I do anything for you now?”
It was the bare minimum of him - or any person you have sex with - to ask, but sometimes it doesn’t happen. But given how much he seemed to care about the “coming down” of this ordeal, you felt so content and warm and safe.
“I hope, at least for my own sake, you need more tutoring in the future…”
–
(some extra headcanons, perhaps?)
Maybe after a few “tutoring sessions”, you and Levi become official. You move out of the dump of your student dorms and into his apartment a few months into dating. Dating your professor does have its perks, he helps you study. But if there is one thing you can admire about Levi the most since you started dating him, it’s his ability to remain unbiased towards you in class still. While you are his favourite, he won’t show you favouritism, nor will he give you extra credit or bump you up a few marks. He still expects you to work, the way you always have. He knows of your abilities anyway
Doesn’t mean he doesn't reward you by eating you out after you study for a few hours straight as a reward
Also the nicest person ever in exam season. He’s been a student before and been through years of education. He knew what he needed from his potential S/O during exam season, so whatever he didn’t get, he gives to you. So if you’re at the kitchen table, he drapes a blanket around you and you get all soft, but he says, “I just can’t look at you being all pathetic while you shiver.” (It’s him taking care of you I swear.) Or he might fill up your tea/coffee, or make you dinner.
Dating your professor is watching you sternly give out to him in the middle of class when he gives the class too much to do over the weekend (the rest of the class not knowing your romantic situation and just thinking you have grown a pair) and him have a mature discussion with you at home about how he can be a better educator, because he knows you have other modules too.
It’s him letting you nestle on his cock and telling you how proud of you he is, of both your academic achievements but also who you are as a person
Dating Professor!Levi is a 12/10 experience, and i am devastated he’s not real y’all 😤😤😤