Feb 22, 2025
thinking about @littlewinnow drarry profs...
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thinking about @littlewinnow drarry profs...
after hours | michael jackson
professor! michael jackson x grad student f! reader
cw/tw: 1991, michael teaches a graduate literature course at uc berkeley, no use of y/n, slight age gap — reader is mid 20s michael is 33, fluff, forbidden romance, praise, drunk makeouts, 18+ mdni, thigh riding, m!masturbation, semi-public oral (m! receiving), mention of semi-public sex, use of yes sir, soft dom! michael
wc: 3.9k
Everyone was drawn to him.
That became apparent with each passing lecture. The way he was able to hold the attention of the room as he spoke and moved, your eyes catching on the way his hand flexed as he wrote on the chalkboard. Not being able to help it.
The cadence he spoke in, a lull on the ears that kept the attention easily. He didn’t even have to try.
His smile infectious and when he’d lean against his desk with his hands in his pockets, cracking a joke only one with knowledge in fifteenth century literature would understand — the entire lecture hall laughed. Even if they didn’t get it, there was just something about him.
Despite how distracting Professor Jackson was, you were one of, if not the, top student of his.
Your gaze would catch his as he handed back assignments, forcing back a shiver as your fingers brushed when you took the paper from him. Practically melting when he winked at you and muttered a Good work.
Your face feeling warm as you looked down to see the familiar scrawl of his hand writing. You didn’t even bother to look at your grade, knowing it was an A.
Instead your attention was pulled to the annotations he had left.
He was probably one of the best professors to give feedback on work. He was honest, but he wasn’t cruel and he didn’t have the ego to withhold a compliment when it was due.
You smiled to yourself as you read what he’d written in the margins. His handwriting slanted and borderline messy and telling yourself his praise didn’t mean all that much. He was just doing his job.
Then your eyes caught on the smiley face he’d drawn next to one paragraph. Nothing else.
It made your stomach flip.
The infatuation was normal and you were sure half of the other students shared your sentiments. Professor Jackson was handsome and young. Soft spoken and intelligent. Kind and charming. A silly side to him that made him all the more endearing. He ticked every box.
Though you’d never admit it out loud, the small crush you had on him drove you to work harder. Desperate to win his approval in a way only academics knew. The hunger for it practically insatiable because you knew those brief interactions were all you were going to get.
At least, that’s what you had initially thought.
He’d mentioned two weeks ago that there was an essay competition and left a list pinned to the bulletin board outside of the lecture hall for people to sign up.
You’d been curious, of course. But the thought of people reading your work outside of a classroom setting made your bones slightly itch. The act of putting yourself out there like that too vulnerable. Saying you’d do it eventually, just not now.
Yet as the hour wrapped up and you were half way through packing your bag to leave, you heard your name.
Glancing up, convinced you were hearing things, you found him looking at you expectantly as he leaned against the desk, his arms on show given he’d rolled the sleeves up and you tried to ignore how dry your mouth suddenly got.
“Yes, sir?”
You had never actually talked to him before besides asking questions now and then during seminars.
“Do you have a minute?”
You nodded, blushing as he gestured for you to come over with his hand.
Sliding your bag onto your shoulder, you held the strap of it like a life line as you approached him.
His smile was lazy at the corners, his eyes just slightly narrowed as he looked at you. Debating something in his head and you felt like the world had stopped moving.
“Why didn’t you sign up for the competition?” He finally said.
You blinked at him. “Sorry?”
“The essay comp. You didn’t sign up.”
“Oh…” you continued to stare at him like an idiot. Not knowing what to say in a way that wouldn’t make it sound childish. “I just… I’m busy.”
“You get two weeks until the deadline.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m really busy.”
Professor Jackson raised a brow at you.
His direct and prolonged attention was overwhelming and you suddenly started to panic if you were breathing normally.
“I really think you should give it a shot, there’s no need to be nervous about submitting something. You’re a wonderful writer.”
You physically felt your chest bloom in warmth at the compliment. “Thank you, but I don’t know. I’ve never,” you shifted on your feet. His gaze was so intense. “I’m not sure if it’s right for me, is all.”
“That’s exactly why you should do it. If it would help ease some nerves, I’d be happy to look over your work before you submit it.”
Your brows rose a little bit. “You would?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Is that allowed?”
He winked at you as he turned around to grab something, a moment later the sign up sheet and a pen were being handed to you.
You looked at him and held your breath as he leaned down a little closer. The smell of his cologne swirling around you in a comforting haze.
His voice was low as he spoke. “Our little secret.”
And because it was him and he was looking at you like that, you signed your name. Trying to ignore the way heat pooled in your stomach at how pleased he looked that you were doing it.
“Just let me know when you’d like me to review it, my door’s always open. Do you know where my office is?”
You nodded, your mind spinning at the thought of being alone with him in such a small space.
The next week and a half was spent practically tearing your hair out over the essay. Being abhorrently self critical as always and you were terrified to go to Professor Jackson’s office.
Not for any valid reason. You were simply nervous. The school girl crush you had on him practically rendering you useless.
It was pathetic.
You paced outside of the liberal arts building that his office was in. Your paper in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Half tempted to shove the blazing stick of tobacco into the header and watch it shrivel up into ash.
With a shaking hand, you brought the cigarette to your lips. Willing the nicotine to calm you down enough so you didn’t look like a blundering idiot in front of him.
Apparently the cigarette calmed you down too much.
You had sat there watching him flick through the paper just fine, but when he started lecturing you on your need to get over your childish stage fright of sharing your work or else you’d never make it as a writer, something apparently shifted in your common sense.
“Don’t be such a pretentious asshole, I’m perfectly capable of deciding when and what I want to do with my writing.”
He froze.
So did you. Watching as the sharp words swirled in the air, practically taunting you with regret.
“Sorry,” you mumbled.
At the stretch of silence in the small office you began to worry you’d royally fucked up.
Professor Jackson’s voice was quiet, his voice nearly as warm as the heat blowing out of the vent in the ceiling. "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day."
You stilled for a moment before your fingers tightened on the hem of your skirt. Your stomach swirled a bit, a combination of worry and something else that was wholly inappropriate. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
A light laugh left him, though it seemed more of an exhale.
He wouldn't look at you. His gaze was focused pointedly at something over your shoulder.
"It's fine, your bluntness is appreciated. That being said, I prefer you didn't call me anything such as a pretentious ass in front of my students."
You were being let in. Only a little bit.
You couldn't help it as you started to smile. "So only in private, then?"
You watched in fascination as a string pulled slightly at his mouth, his dark eyes sliding over to you for only a moment and it made your head spin.
"Only in private," Professor Jackson hummed.
He then stood up, gesturing for you to follow him and he opened the door for you. The warm light from the hall sweeping into the room and your legs shook a bit as you walked.
“Michael.”
“What?” You paused just in front of him, your eyes flicking up to meet his. He was looking at you intently now.
“Call me Michael.”
You wet your bottom lip, “only in private?”
He observed you for another moment, a quiet storm behind his eyes before he nodded once.
“Only in private.”
You felt like a line was being crossed. A boundary being carefully tread. Invaded. Redrawn. You knew better. Then again, maybe you were just delusional.
It probably didn’t mean anything.
When the weekend rolled around, you and your roommate headed to a popular bar that was only a few blocks away from the apartment.
You were in desperate need for a drink, your mind constantly spinning over the interaction between you and Prof— Michael, from the other day.
Nothing had technically happened. Yet it felt like the world had slipped off its axis since then.
“Why is it so busy?” You groaned as you rounded the corner, seeing the line to get in.
“It’s Friday. And it’s lecture night.”
You raised a brow. “Lecture night?“
“Yeah, a bunch of professors come here on Friday’s, give a lecture on whatever they want, and everyone gets progressively more wasted as the night goes on.”
You hummed, the idea growing more entertaining.
You were three dirty martinis in when Michael stepped up on stage. Your eyes widening at the sight of him.
He looked so… casual.
He wore a sweater with the sleeves rolled up, a white collar peeking out at his neck and navy jeans. His curls looking a little messier than usual and his gaze was a little glossy as he brought a glass of wine to his lips.
Michael stepped closer to the microphone, clearing his throat. “I had one too many before this, so if I start randomly slipping into old English, just throw something at me.”
Laughs bubbled up around the bar followed by applause as he started his lecture of choice.
It was something about Medieval depictions of hell and how it was really just a dogmatic idea of the working class, but your mind trailed off as you watched him move.
Mesmerized by his drunken and lazy smile, the way his eyes were set a little heavier as he squinted against the stage light. He was so easily able to take control of any room he walked into and he didn’t even have to do anything but be himself.
You turned to your friend, taking another sip of your martini.
“He’s so hot.”
They nodded in agreement, looking starstruck themselves as they watched him.
He concluded his lecture with a slight bow and a muttered Thank you through the mic. Stumbling a bit as he walked off the stage and his laugh was loud as someone helped steady him.
You weren’t thinking.
Clearly.
The room spinning slightly as you stood up and made your way over to him.
You could blame the bad decision making on the vodka when you were sober enough to care.
★
Michael spun you around the second the bathroom door shut, his mouth on yours, the sudden contact almost violent as he backed you against the wood of the door.
Your head would've slammed into it, but his hand had snaked into your hair and absorbed the impact.
His fingers twining, tight, and yanked. Making your mouth fall open in a moan and he all but lunged on the opportunity. Tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring, his own groan leaving him as his rationality left him with its tail between its legs.
His mouth slid down to your jaw, his teeth sinking in, biting and soothing. Caught up in a wave of want that felt borderline primal.
There was a small voice in the back of his mind telling him how wrong this was. You were his student. You were both drunk. This was inappropriate.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about before.
His imagination outrunning his better judgement as he’d think about you when the hour ran late. Grading papers but getting too distracted at the mere thought of you. Wondering what you would sound like. What you would look like… either being spread out in his bed or bent over his desk.
Waking up one too many nights in a thin layer of sweat, hips grinding into his mattress and wishing it was you.
It was wrong and he was horrible for thinking such things.
But he couldn’t stop.
It’s like you had infested his fucking soul, if he were to be so dramatic.
Not even realizing what he was doing half the time as his hand slipped beneath his boxers to take hold of his hardened cock. Picturing your pretty face and eyes as he started to jack off. Head rolling back and hitting the headboard of his bed as his fantasies ran wild, your name tumbling from his lips as his hips thrusted up into his own hand, hot cum making a mess on his stomach.
When Michael’s thigh wedged between your legs, a moan broke past your lips and it made him feel dizzy.
He didn’t think about how he was your professor. Didn't think about how he was too old for you. Didn't think about how you two were in the bathroom of a bar as you started to ride his thigh and his hands were pulling up your skirt.
A groan leaving him as his eyes flicked down to see your pretty underwear already soaked as you dragged your clothed cunt against his jeans.
One of his hands took hold of your hip, helping you grind against him while his other wrapped around your throat. Pulling your mouth back to his in a bruising kiss.
It was a mess. Wet with teeth hitting against each other and he couldn’t get enough.
The whimpers leaving your mouth as you started to go faster and harder going straight to his dick and he wished he could just bend you over the sink and fuck you. The idea was lewd and woefully unromantic, but his drunken mind had lost any semblance of self control.
He pulled back from your mouth, his teeth tugging your bottom lip as he did so and your skin was flushed with liquor and arousal.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He said it quietly, mostly to himself as he admired you.
“Michael, I—“ You choked out in a whine, your pupils blown. Reflecting his own desire.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good.”
His praise, though small, seemed to topple you over the edge and you buried your face in the crook of his neck as you came.
The sound was akin to the trumpets of heaven, he was sure of it.
His hands settled heavily on your hips, gently working you through your orgasm.
Before another thought could even cross his hand, your own hands were buried in his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours.
The following Monday as he got ready for work, Michael’s eyes kept catching on the hickey that was placed just between the curve of his neck and above his clavicle.
His jaw rolling at the memory of you putting it there Friday night.
He’d hardly slept since then.
A mixture of guilt and reruns of the night that only led to more sinful thoughts.
Although you were both adults completely capable of making decisions… he was your professor for God’s sake.
He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, knowing damn well he had thought about you in a plethora of more erotic ways— Michael just didn’t think he’d actually ever act on it.
But like a dog with a bone thrown in front of it, he’d leapt at the first opportunity.
He felt even worse because he knew he didn’t regret it.
Didn’t regret it at all as he asked you stay after class, muttering an apology for his behavior in case you regretted it.
Trying to ignore the flood of relief he felt when you shyly admitted it wasn’t just a drunken mistake on your behalf.
Shoving his rationality to the side when you’d come visit him during office hours, asking questions about a course you both knew you didn’t need help with.
His common sense shutting off with the click of the lock on the door as he undid his belt, eyes dark as he watched you.
“Get on your knees.”
Your gaze slipped to the window covered by half drawn blinds. “What if—“
“Do as your told.”
Your pupils were so blown as you slowly lowered yourself. “Yes, sir.”
He hated how much he loved hearing that.
Wrong wrong wrong, the voice would chant.
But the sound of it got drowned out as his hand wound in your hair and his cock slid into your mouth. His eyes never leaving yours and a broken sound tore right up from his diaphragm as your throat constricted around him.
Michael bent over slightly, his chest heaving as one hand caught on the edge of his desk so his knees didn’t buckle.
Your mouth was so fucking warm.
You pulled back a bit, tongue swirling around him and curious but it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Please, you can go a bit more.” His words were rough at the edges, his heart pounding as your brows furrowed in concern. Your mouth too full to try and talk, but you shook your head slightly.
“I know you can, you wanna make me proud, don’t you?”
He was definitely going to hell.
Michael’s thumb gently brushed against your cheek, feeling the head of his cock and he shuddered.
“I know you can do it.”
He rolled his hips forward slightly, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat and your nails dug into the exposed skin of his hips.
“Nice and slow,” he muttered.
He let you set the pace as you did as told, your throat eventually relaxing a bit and he was able to thrust a little further in but his patience was teetering on the edge of ruin.
His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, his grip on the desk tight as his dark eyes met yours.
The trust in your gaze made his chest ache.
You nodded at him once, the movement small.
Not a moment later his hand was back in your hair as his hips rolled forward, the surprised gagging sound you made as his cock slid all the way down your throat made his ears ring. His vision going blurry at the edges as he watched himself slide in and out your swollen lips, his cock covered in your salvia.
Hot tears slipped out of your eyes, leaving a ruddy trail of mascara down your cheeks and he groaned at the sight.
You were devastating in all the right ways to ruin him.
A whine tore up your throat and around his cock, making him throw his head back as the muscles in his stomach tightened when he came down your throat.
“Fuck, mama.” His hips mindlessly continued to roll as he rode out his orgasm.
Michael was mesmerized as he pulled out of your mouth, long strings of your saliva and his cum stretching from his tip and your tongue as he did so.
A pathetic sound left him when you swallowed his cum and he pulled you up gently by throat, lips crashing into yours and muttering a Good girl.
★
There was a thrill to stolen glances as he gave a lecture, his eyes catching knowingly on the way you’d bite your pencil and your thighs would clench beneath the table as you crossed them. Your skirt just a bit too short.
The day you had risked not wearing any underwear, he had casually asked you to stay after. His gaze dark and looking a little angry with you.
Not muttering a word as you followed him to his office.
You spent the next hour bent over his desk as he lectured you about it.
How inappropriate it was that you showed up to class like that, but you couldn’t summon single thought as his hands took hold of your hips, slamming your pussy back down onto his cock.
Mumbling a broken string of apologies you didn’t mean as you moaned his name.
Your chest would tighten when there was a quiet knock on the front door of the apartment well around two in the morning.
Your smile small as you opened it, seeing Michael in a Berkeley crewneck and jeans as you snuck him into your room.
It was ridiculous. It’s not like what you two were doing was illegal, you just didn’t want the drama of it.
Spending the night wrapped up in your sheets, falling asleep to the sound of his heart beat as your head rested against his chest. His fingers running gently up and down your spine as he read whatever book you had on the nightstand that evening.
Getting into the passenger seat of Michael’s car on weekends as he drove you two somewhere just outside of town. Sliding into linoleum booths of an old diner as you caught up with each other’s day, smiling absentmindedly as he went on a rant about something new he had read about.
You showing up at his house, walking in to see your favorite flowers on the kitchen table and a bottle of wine when you found out you had won the competition he had encouraged you to enter.
The rest of the night spent with your back arching off his sheets and Michael’s head between your thighs.
He’d bring you books often, leaving little notes on parts he thought you would like. Taking you to art exhibitions that opened and not muttering a single complaint as he walked slowly with you to each painting. Bending down and sliding his reading glasses on as he read each description with interest.
Curled up in one of his sweaters, sprawled out on the couch with your back against his chest as he showed you his favorite old Hollywood movies. You found it adorable when he would giggle, trying to hide it behind a hand but you’d tug his wrist away. Muttering how much you loved his smile and watching as he would blush slightly, his doe eyes softening before pulling you in for a kiss.
You adored him. The finality and truth of it hitting you sharply as the semester came to a close and he wished everyone a safe holiday break. Staying long after everyone else had left and not bothering to get up from your chair.
Michael’s shoes clicked sharply against the tile as he neared you, his smile small and knowing. Hands in his pockets as he came to a stop just shy of the table.
Your fingers thrummed on the wood.
“What now?”
You didn’t know why you were nervous. Though neither of you had said it out loud, you cared for each other. It wasn’t something to be easily discarded.
Michael’s finger hooked just beneath your chin, tilting your head up and he leant down to kiss you. The pressure of it even and firm.
He then pulled back and straightened, holding his hand out and looking at you expectantly.
“What—“
“C’mon.”
You slid your bag on your shoulder, fingers twining with his and you walked hand in hand out of the building and into your new life together, no longer having to be confided to hidden touches and stolen glances.
michael jackson masterlist
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Day 1: professor AU (with a hint of first love)
what the professor wants for his birthday
steve rogers' birthday across the multiverse: professor steve rogers
pairing: professor!steve rogers x associate professor!female reader
summary: on his birthday, steve finally gets what he wants—you, all to himself.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), sorta dubcon, uneven power dynamics, some manipulative/obsessive behavior from Steve, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia, bit of mean Steve, begging, light degradation, praise kink, professor kink, dirty talk, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart)
word count: 1.5k
a/n: the request for professor Steve Rogers comes from @epiphanyrogers! since i'm not really a big fan of professor x student fics, i went for professor x professor, but Steve does technically outrank reader, and he's more than a little bit of a perv, so he's still a dirty old professor 🤭 this fic is really just a bunch of shameless smut, and i had a lot of fun writing it, so i hope y'all enjoy!!
steve rogers' birthday across the multiverse masterlist
Professor Steve Rogers spends the evening of his birthday in his office with you, the pretty new associate professor in the English department. He’s got you bent over his desk, fucking you from behind, so that you can both watch the Fourth of July fireworks through his window.
Truthfully, Steve doesn’t give a shit about the fireworks. They were just the pretense he’d used to get you to his office, along with a sad story about how he didn’t have anyone to spend his birthday with. Steve is sure the fireworks are nice, the town always goes all out for the holiday, but he can’t bring himself to look at them—not when he has you.
Steve only has eyes for you, his gaze raking hungrily over your body, taking in the arch of your spine and the flare of your hips. You’re bent over at the waist, your upper body pressed to his desk, and he can’t help the surve of possessiveness that has him driving hard into your tight, gripping channel.
The professor has been dying to get you alone and spread open for him since you joined the college’s faculty for the spring semester. It was lust at first sight, and Steve did everything in his power to get you exactly where he wanted you. And now that he finally has you, he’s going to take his time savoring you.
The loud booms and explosions of the fireworks are a distant, unimportant cacophony when Steve is so focused on the wet sounds you’re pussy is making while taking his cock. The obscene schlick of your cunt greedily swallowing his cock is music to his ears, and he slows down, pumping lazily into you to draw it out.
“F-fuck, Steve,” you whine, your voice thready and desperate. It’s so fucking sweet, it has Steve’s mouth watering with the desire to hunch over your back and take your mouth, just so he can taste your pleasure straight from your lips. “Ah! You’re so—so deep. Ohmygod!”
Steve plows harder into your cunt, wrenching a shrill, shameless cry from your lips, and his chest puffs up. You need this just as much as he does, he knows it. Just like he knows you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.
Your tight, wet pussy is clinging to him like she never wants him to stop, and your back is arched to lift your ass up. It puts you in the perfect position to take him nice and deep, until the fat tip of his cock is kissing your cervix.
With his two big hands on the round curves of your ass, Steve spreads you open so he can see the thick shaft of his bare cock fucking deep into your pussy. There’s a ring of white, creamy wetness circling the base of his dick, your desire dripping down to his balls and making a mess of your thighs.
Staring down at where your bodies are joined, Steve slams deep into your cunt, watching your ass ripple and your thighs shake as you let out another strangled scream. He likes the sight so much, he does it again, and again, pounding deep into your pussy while his hands grip your hips so hard, his fingers dig harshly into the plush softness of your body.
“Steve!” you cry out, and the professor wrenches his gaze away from the sight of you taking his cock.
His eyes trail up your body, past where your sundress is rucked up around your waist, lingering for a moment on your tits, which are pressed so enticingly against the wood of his desk. Finally, his gaze finds your face.
Your pretty features are twisted with pleasure, your brows scrunched and your teeth digging deep into your plump lower lip. Your eyes are desperate and frenzied as you stare at him over your shoulder.
“Do you need something, pretty girl?” Steve coos, his tone half mocking as he bends over your body, one hand gripping your face and pulling you close so he can kiss you. “Does my sweet little slut need something from her professor?”
“Please,” you sob, tears gathering in your hazy, lust-filled eyes. “Please, professor, ‘m so close.”
Steve grins against your mouth, the expression wolfish and wild. “You need me to make you cum, sweetheart?” he asks, even more mocking condescension in his tone. And when your pussy clenches tight around his cock, he can’t help but chuckle, loving the reaction your body has to his filthy words.
“Yes, yes, yes. Please, please, please,” you chant, rocking your hips like you’re trying to take Steve’s cock harder and faster on your own. It’s almost too bad that you’re bent and pinned against his desk, his bigger body making it so you can barely move.
“Well, since you begged so nicely…” Steve trails off, shoving one of his hands between your body and the desk, until his fingers are pressed against your clit. Once there, though, he doesn’t move them. “Grind on my fingers and make yourself cum like a good little slut,” he commands, using his most authoritative voice. “Show your professor how good you are at following orders.”
“Oh fuck, Steve,” you cry, your hips already working hard to do as he says. “Yes, sir. I’ll be so good for you, sir. Such a good slut for you, sir, I swear,” you babble, grinding your clit against his fingers and taking his cock deep into your cunt—so deep that your words devolve into a helpless, wanton moan.
Steve grins against your cheek, watching the desperation and determination contort your pretty face while you fuck yourself on his cock and hump against his fingers. If Steve thought you were beautiful before, he realizes now that you’re downright fucking gorgeous once he’s turned you into a feral little cumslut—all for him.
The fireworks are still going off outside his office window, but Steve’s entire focus is on you and the sounds you’re letting out while you’re desperately trying to make yourself cum for him. It’s glorious to watch, especially when you reach the edge, your body going tight and taut, every muscle clenching down, before you finally let go.
You cum with a scream that’s drowned out by the fireworks show’s finale, your whole body shaking as you sob through your pleasure. Your legs are trembling riotously, and your upper body goes limp in Steve’s arms. It’s only his hand still holding your face that stops you from slumping onto his desk.
And the professor watches it all, his cock throbbing in your tight, fluttering cunt. But he’s not done with you yet.
Once your pleasure wanes and you catch your breath, you open your eyes, a question in your gaze and the quirk of your brows. “D-did you cum?” you ask unsurely.
A grin spreads across Steve’s face and he steals a kiss from your lips. When he pulls away, he lays you gently down on his desk, and stands back up so he’s towering above your bent over body.
Steve’s hips retreat until only the fat mushroom tip of his dick remains in your pussy. You’re still pulsing from your release and he revels in the feeling of your hole mouthing at his cock. Then, he thrusts forward, burying every inch of his fat dick in your oversensitive cunt, his hips smacking against your ass.
“Ohmygod, Steve!” you blubber, your body shaking even more violently under the onslaught of pleasure. “Wha-what are you…d-doing?”
“Oh, pretty girl,” Steve coos mockingly, giving your ass a harsh slap that has you jumping, your body sucking his cock even deeper, until the tip is nestled right against the end of you. “You didn’t think I was done with you already, did you?”
His big hand soothes over your smarting cheek, his hips pulling back and plowing forward again. He leans forward, brushing tears of pleasure from your face, grinning at the sight, and catches your eye over your shoulder.
“It’s my birthday, and I’ll cum when I want to,” Steve tells you, punctuating his statement with another deep, brutal thrust. “And I’ve wanted you too long to cum so soon.”
Steve picks up the pace of his thrusts, the fingers of his other hand finding your puffy, swollen clit and playing with it so meanly that all you can do is collapse on the professor’s desk and take what he gives you. He loves the way you submit to him, your cunt clenching greedily down on his cock even as you shake and cry from the overstimulation.
“Of course,” Steve goes on, curling over your back to press a sweet kiss to your mouth. “You can cum as much as you want, pretty girl. In fact, I’d like it very much if you did—and you want to be a good slut and give your professor what he wants for his birthday, don’t you?”
It’s music to Steve’s ears when your answer rings out in the silence following the fireworks, your voice drenched in pleasure as you respond to him with sweet obedience.
“Yes, sir!”
thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡
steve rogers' birthday across the multiverse masterlist
okay, wait. hear me out. modern day AU where Jayce is a mathematics professor and Viktor is a physicists professor. the students are so obsessed with both of them. viktor very closed off about his personal life and a harsh judge on tests and work but genuinely fun to engage with in and out of class. he helps students like crazy. jayce on the other hand is an avid yapper who can’t stop talking about his sweet and handsome husband and all he does for for Jayce. how happy he makes Jayce and is his reason for living. viktor’s cane breaks while he’s working so he begrudgingly has to call Jayce who keeps his backup cane in his office. students start gossiping about the two and how close they seem while Jayce helps Viktor and also takes the time to tighten up the screws in Viktor’s brace after he fell because of the broken cane. someone in one of Jayce’s classes actually has the guts to ask Jayce if his husband is Viktor and Jayce is like “yeah??? I wasn’t trying to hide it?” and students are like “oh my G-d, Viktor is actually married? he never talks about his partner!? if i was with jayce i’d yap about him nonstop! crazy but we are so happy for those idiots!” after students find out, Viktor doesn’t open up about his life much more but doesn’t try to hid that he’s with jayce anymore
no bc I had this whole series of drawings in my head for this ask specifically. this included Jayce too at first but I FAILED man... it just became a very watered down version of what you said + bonus for young university student Viktor
as for the professor version I legit got so wrapped up in the hand gesture, I forgot he's supposed to lean to one side when he's older and that he probably can't stand without his crutch so I APOLOGIZE ABOUT THAT I'm heavily sleep deprived
(also as previously stated I know nothing about STEM, I have an art degree, I literally only searched some string theory schematics and scribbled it so if it makes no fucking sense that is why)
💋 NSFW CONTENT — MINORS DNI
character: nanami kento (professor AU)
type: smut / x reader
summary: staying late for “office hours” with your strict, too-handsome professor was supposed to be about academics. instead, your bratty teasing pushes Nanami past his limit—and he teaches you a very different kind of lesson right on his desk.
warnings: age gap (collegestudent!reader x professor!nanami), desk sex, semi-public risk, unprotected sex, degradation, praise kink, light power imbalance, size kink, suit kink, overstimulation, brat-taming, aftercare implied.
word count: ~2.7k
The classroom had emptied twenty minutes ago, but you were still perched on a desk, swinging your legs and pretending to study. Professor Nanami sat at his own desk, grading papers with his usual rigid composure, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to make your stomach flip.
“You could’ve emailed me your questions,” he said without looking up, voice clipped but tired.
You hummed, leaning forward so your skirt rode higher up your thighs. “But then I wouldn’t get your undivided attention.”
That made him look up, glasses catching the overhead light. His gaze flickered down to your bare thighs before snapping back up, sharp as ever. “That’s inappropriate.”
You smirked, kicking your heels against the desk. “So? You gonna write me up, Professor?”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. He went back to grading, trying to ignore you—but you didn’t let him. Sliding off the desk, you sauntered to his, leaning down so your cleavage dipped into view as you set your paper in front of him.
“Can you… go over problem three with me?” you asked, voice dripping with false innocence.
His pen stilled. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” you teased, propping your chin in your hand.
That was the last straw. Nanami shoved his chair back, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you onto his lap before you could blink. His grip was firm, commanding, as his lips brushed your ear.
“You think you’re clever?” he muttered, voice low and dangerous. “Dressing like this, teasing me during office hours? You’re just a reckless little brat begging to be taught a lesson.”
Your smirk faltered, heat pooling low in your stomach. “M-Maybe I like pushing your buttons.”
His hand slid up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh. “Pathetic,” he growled. “You sit here with your skirt hiked up, legs spread, and act like you’re not desperate for me to ruin you.”
You gasped when his fingers pressed against your panties—already damp. His lips curled. “Just as I thought. My needy little student.”
Before you could retort, he shoved papers aside, bent you over his desk, and yanked your skirt up. The cool air hit your ass just as his fingers pushed your panties aside.
“Stay quiet,” he ordered, lining himself up. “There are still faculty in the building. Unless you want everyone to hear how slutty you sound for your professor.”
You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he pushed inside, stretching you wide. His tie brushed your back, shirt still on as he held your hips in a bruising grip.
“God—you’re so fucking tight,” he hissed, thrusting deep. “All this attitude, and you melt the second I’m inside you.”
“F-Fuck, Professor—”
“Louder than I told you to be,” he snapped, slamming into you harder. “You can’t even follow simple instructions. How do you expect to pass my class when you can’t keep your mouth shut?”
You whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the desk creaked beneath you. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back so you had to meet his eyes when he leaned over you.
“Look at me while I fuck the brat out of you,” he growled. “You wanted my attention? You have it. Every single inch of it.”
Each thrust drove you closer to the edge, his words and his pace overwhelming. You clawed at the desk, body shaking as your orgasm crashed through you.
“Good girl,” he praised, voice softening as he fucked you through it. “My perfect little student.”
But he didn’t stop. His thrusts grew rougher, faster, chasing his own release until he spilled inside you with a guttural groan. For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the faint thud of music echoing from another building.
Nanami pulled out slowly, tucking himself back into his slacks, his shirt and tie still perfectly in place. He adjusted his glasses, then gently fixed your skirt back down, his hand brushing your hip.
“You’ll stay after again next week,” he said matter-of-factly, smoothing your hair. “And you’ll behave. Understood?”
You could only nod, dazed and trembling, as he pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to your temple.
“Good girl,” he murmured again.
a/n: hii it’s zarin again 😋 first time writing professor nanami smut sooo hope y’all enjoyed, reblogs & comments mean the world <3
wait professor remus…… elle you opened the Gates
hehehehehe.... 😈 big shout out to @maladaptiveescapism for daydreaming and yapping about this with me - some of the 'ratings' are courtesy of her!
Professor!Remus Lupin x Professor!reader: 5/5 chilli peppers [1.7k words]
CW: fem!reader, flirty/sexual comments made about both professors by students [indirectly], suggestive content but nothing explicit and SFW
You were sitting cross legged on Remus’ desk; heels discarded on the floor as you used one hand to scroll through your phone whilst the other brought your glass of wine to your lips.
Remus probably shouldn’t think you look adorable, but Remus thought you looked adorable.
You hummed excitedly as you quickly swallowed your sip and pointed at your phone. “Listen to this one!” You enthused, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter as though you were about to deliver one of your lectures. “Professor Lupin should be banned from wearing those khaki slacks - you know the ones - how can anyone pay attention to the migration of Germanic peoples through Western Europe when that perfect arse is *right there*?”
Remus’ face felt like it was probably five shades darker on account of his furious blush as he topped up his own glass of wine and let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan.
“They’re just trousers!”
“Oh but they are so not.” You drawled salaciously, smirking into your glass.
“Knock it off, you minx.”
“Shan’t.” You replied as you squinted at your phone again. “Oh! This one’s good: when he starts rolling up his sleeves and then leans on the desk, it’s suddenly worth waking up at seven AM for a morning class.”
“Stop-”
“And someone responded with ‘I didn't believe in god when I was forced to take an eight AM lecture, but I did believe in god when she blessed us with Professor Lupin as an apology’. You’re a hit, Lupin.”
“I’m horrified.”
“You’re an icon.”
“Did these student’s even learn anything in my classes?” Remus let out with a laugh.
“Sure.” You agreed quickly. “This one says you guys spoke about Freud?”
“I- what?” Remus asked, wondering when the hell Freud came up during his Early Medieval Europe course.
“‘We were discussing Freud and made a daddy joke. Professor Daddy.’”
“Alright.” Remus gruffed as repositioned himself on the loveseat in the office. “That’s enough out of you.”
“Hey,” You placated, raising your hands - still holding your phone and a glass of wine - in mock surrender, “I’m just the messenger.”
“What is this site called again?” He asked as he pulled out his own phone.
“Rate my professor. Oh, this one’s boring.”
“What’s it say?” He asked with a snort.
“Says you’re a harsh grader but fair, and you allow people to resubmit their assignments to bring their grades up.”
“Finally, an accurate and reasonable review.”
“All in all, you’ve gotten 5/5 chilli peppers.” You sing-songed, looking up and smirking at him. “My my; do office hours run long, Professor Lupin?”
Remus swallowed thickly and ignored the subtle tightening of his pants. “You think mine are bad?”
“No, I think yours are great.” You corrected.
Remus hummed as he smirked at you before reading from his screen. “Took the class because it was the only one available and now I’m wondering if I can retake it because this might be the hottest woman I have ever seen. BRB booking an appointment to change my major.”
“No way!” You squealed with laughter; Remus’ smile grew exponentially as a result.
“Did Plato come up this semester?” He asked you then; you nodded your head yes. “I don’t know why she thinks I can focus on platonic ideals of things when she is in the room? Platonic ideal of hot.”
“Oh my god!”
“This one simply reads ‘someone call Victoria’s Secret. One of their angels is posing as a university professor.”
You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling at that one.
“Looks like you’ve got 5/5 chilli peppers too, Professor.” He quipped.
“That’s just because I’m only one of two Professors at this university under 50 years old.” You chuckled, Remus cocking an unimpressed brow in response.
“Wouldn’t that be my excuse too?”
You quickly hummed in the negative.
“No?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Uhm…because you’re hot, Remus.”
“Is that so?”
“That is my professional, academic opinion, yes.” You agreed resolutely.
“I think there might be some flaws in your assessment, dove.”
“Is that so?” You drawled slowly, parroting his earlier comment earning you a challenging hum of affirmation.
Remus watched your eyes narrow slightly before you lifted your phone back up.
“You did receive one ⅘ rating.” You commented solemnly.
“Bastard.” Remus scoffed with no real heat, running his tongue along his teeth as you repositioned yourself on his desk; shifting closer to the edge and leaning over your own legs as though trying to subconsciously inch closer to Remus. “I hope they failed my course.”
You let out a roaring laugh, throwing your head back into it and exposing the length of your neck.
“They said,” you continued loudly once you collected yourself as though scolding him for having interrupted you, “minus one chilli because I’m pretty sure he’s shagging that other hot professor in the department.”
“Now why would they think that?” He asked innocently, though he knew exactly why they would think that.
The two of you were new to the university faculty this year; you were close in age, by far the youngest professors on the payroll, and both part of the history department. The two of you had picked up a quasi-antagonistic yet relatively genial relationship; rumours that the department would be letting go of one professor at the end of the school year what with the two of you being the lowest in terms of seniority didn’t bode well, resulting in a slight rivalry that saw no real animosity.
But regardless of the semi-competitive nature of your relationship, the two of you were the youngest professors at the school, meaning you weren’t always taken very seriously and were often each other’s only allies.
This meant the two of you became fast frenemies.
It started in the first term when he went to reserve a book for the class, only to find you had put it on hold first.
“Oh? Did you need this book, Lupin? Sorry about that….you’ll have to be faster next time.” You’d offered him with nothing more than a wink, leaving him standing there, gaping in your office as you walked away.
Then it turned into him letting himself into the lecture room 26 minutes past the hour whilst your class was finishing up even though your class only finished 25 minutes past the hour and his class didn’t start until 35 minutes past the hour, just so he could enjoy the way your nose scrunched up in frustration as your students started giggling through your concluding remarks.
You showed up to one of his lectures once - he’d somehow missed you sneaking in and taking a seat in the back row - when you began volleying questions in an attempt to fluster him. You’d teased him once about his need for structure and scripts for his classes, and you’d gone to prove him right by asking him hard hitting questions slightly beyond the scope of this particular class that he was not prepared to have to answer. The class ended with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up as he scowled at you and you smiled sweetly at him.
Once he had fucked around with your powerpoint lecture without your knowledge, so as you opened up the first slide, everyone read: blimey, sorry to everyone stuck with Professor Y/N for the next hour or so. You really ought to try one of Professor Lupin’s courses instead - they’re way better!
You sticky-noted his entire office for that one.
Friendly and not so friendly comments were passed in the corridors as the two of you passed one another, some heard by students and others not. Remus had guest lectured for a course of yours and you had offered a talk in one of his.
Ultimately, the school had seen the two of you interacting. Remus probably should have been more mindful of the way his gaze often lingered on you.
But it couldn’t be helped, really. You were maddeningly intelligent, engaging in the way you spoke in an academic sense and a personal sense, you were funny and quick, and fuck him if you weren’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen.
So yeah, he knew exactly where those rumours had come from. He’d probably been caught a few too many times ogling you.
Much like he was being caught ogling you now, though you were the only one present to catch him in his faux pas.
Your eyes were glassy from the amount of wine the two of you had shared to celebrate the official end of exam season, the top few buttons of your blouse seem to have come undone at some point in the evening exposing a beautiful expanse of skin, if you asked Remus. He noticed you swallow thickly as your legs fell over the edge of the desk, bare feet dangling well above the carpeted floor as you watched him watch you.
“Beats me.” You murmured in response to his question.
“We’ve been drinking.” He commented, seemingly apropos of nothing.
“We have.”
“And we’re technically at work.” He continued.
“We are.”
“One of us could be getting let go.”
“We could.” You agreed again.
The two of you stared at one another as you teetered this liminal space between friendly and decidedly not, between professional and inappropriate, between surrendering and resisting.
And then the corner of your mouth turned up in a smirk.
“Fuck it.” Remus let out with an exhale, and in two quick strides he was standing between your legs, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you soundly as you hummed into the kiss and fisted the back of his shirt with an iron grip.
He couldn’t believe he’d waited an entire academic year to do this.
© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.
You Gotta Earn It First, Pt. 2
Professor!Remmick x Fem!Reader
<- Part One | Part Two
Fic Playlist & AO3 Link
Summary: It's been a week since your last heated encounter with Professor Remmick. A week without his attention and touch. A week that's left you aching and desperate for more, willing to act out just to get his attention. Your efforts prove effective, but you'll be punished for it. WC: 12.7k Tags/ Warnings: NSFW/MDNI 18+ ONLY. more Dom! & Brat Tamer!Remmick. modern day college professor AU. no use of y/n. hivemind plot device. semi/public masturbation and sex. classroom sex. degradation and humiliation. praise. vampire sex. full vamp form. irish accent. edging. denied orgasms. cunnilingus. blowjob. face fucking. face riding. face slapping. spit kink. rimming (m!receiving). pussy/clit slapping. bondage w/ a belt. unprotected vaginal and anal sex. vaginal fingering. exhibitionism. blood sucking. soft aftercare. soft aftercare sex. shower sex. heavy smut that ends with fluff, because I can't help myself. there's a certain line in here that's inspired by qotd. A/N: Thank you to those of you that loved part one enough to want more! Credit to @fuckoffbard @remmicks-salvation @weavingduck for their ideas and demands that inspired this part two & to Vamp again for help with editing the header. Thank you to my lovely @eternalstrigoii for beta reading.
The sound of strings echo throughout the small amphitheater, a bow expertly gliding along a fiddle in the hands of tonight’s guest of honor at the local city’s Irish American Historical Society. It sounds much like the recordings Remmick has played in class, or the tunes he himself has played by hand for you all. The man standing before the small crowd on stage is no Remmick, nowhere near as nice to look at, but undoubtedly talented as he’s met with your chorus of applause at the end of a ballad.
An impulse to glance at your professor passes through, assuming he’s no doubt enjoying the show given his repeated displays of passion for Ireland’s culture. But, that would require glancing to the row behind and you’re feeling just bitter enough to not want to give him the satisfaction of catching your eyes seeking him out.
That night in the classroom merely a week ago hasn’t left your mind since, nor has your body forgotten his touch, and you’re starting to believe it never will. That the memory will continue to plague you long after you’ve graduated, even until your deathbed. But it’s not just simply reminiscing on the passion and filth shared between you two, it’s what hasn’t changed since.
After a night like that, you’d assumed things would be different. That he wouldn’t be so hard on you anymore, that you’d carry on some kind of semblance of a relationship, albeit in private, but something nonetheless. Especially after he’d verbally and physically laid claim to you, especially after you’d broken up with James the very next day. And granted, in the week that’s passed there haven’t been any assignments to grade you harshly on, but you at least expected to receive more favorable attention.
Alas, he still barely meets your eyes unless necessary. Hasn’t asked you to stay after class. Hasn’t reached out to you in any way since that night. Hasn’t even flashed you that charming smile or a knowing look.
At first you felt foolish. Chastised yourself for getting so wrapped up in him so quickly, for letting his actions or lack thereof impact your mood, for so eagerly waiting to lap up any bit of attention he’ll give.
Until realizing this has all been a game to him.
A game that two can play at.
“He’s pretty good, right?” The sound of your classmate Chris’s voice breaks the train of thought, drawing your eyes to his at your side instead.
“Oh- yeah, he’s good.”
“You um, you look really nice tonight by the way.” He mentions in a hushed tone with a shy, boyish smile, briefly glancing down to the short dress and cardigan adorning your body. Your own eyes briefly follow, glancing down at yourself before meeting his again.
“Thank you.”
“I’m uh, sorry to hear about you and James.”
“Oh? Eh, don’t be. I realized he’s a loser anyway.” You respond with a sigh and nonchalant shrug.
“So… you’re single now then?” Chris inquires out of his own curiosity, having always had a crush on you even before becoming one of Remmick’s spawn.
Your brows raise in surprise, though given the looks you’ve caught him giving you in class, you really shouldn’t be. Whether you’re imagining it or not, the sensation of eyes boring into the back of your head passes over you along with a smirk at the realization this may be the perfect opportunity you’ve been looking for.
“...yeah, I am. Why? You gonna ask me out?” A playful retort and flirtatious smile makes Chris chuckle.
“Well, I’d be stupid not to try. You’re beautiful.”
An abrupt clearing of his throat and a chastising call of your name from behind disrupts the conversation, prompting your eyes to seek out the unmistakable source of Remmick sitting behind you.
“Quiet. Show some respect.” Remmick’s expression and tone are stern but hushed as the fiddle player begins the next song. You roll your eyes with a sigh, attention shifting back to the stage. An unspoken, perhaps harsher warning is given to Chris, who settles back into the seat without another word.
As the tune of ‘King of the Fairies’ begins to play, a smug satisfaction settles within you. Remmick’s warning, what feels like the first glimmer of attention he’s given you in so long, only strengthens the rebellious resolve burning in your chest rather than quells it.
It puts an extra pep in your step, a more intentional sway in your hips as the event finally closes, sending the guests back out into the stone halls of the Irish American Historical Society. Intentionally, your stroll slows until Chris steps align side by side with yours amongst the small crowd exiting the building into the fresh, cool night air.
“You know if you were to ask me, I’ll probably say yes.” You pick up the conversation where it last left off, goading Chris on as Professor Remmick’s footsteps trail behind. Chris’s eyes widen momentarily before a grin stretches along his lips, gaze trailing over your body as you step ahead of him and onto the university’s shuttle bus.
Chris follows behind with every intention to follow into whatever seat you land, forgetting Remmick’s lingering warning and presence until an iron grip around his arm guides Chris’s body into an empty booth at the front of the bus, Remmick’s body quickly following behind to block him in by the window.
Remmick’s expression is cool and composed, until those bus doors close and the tires pull away from the curb and onto the road. Slowly, those dark eyes shift, his head turning with them until landing on Chris’s stony face.
“Do you take me for a fool?” His brows furrow, right eye twitching as he dismisses the hive communication so Chris can really hear him, once and for all.
“N-No, I just…”
“Just what? Thought you could stick your slimy hands over what’s mine? Have you forgotten I can hear you?” Remmick scrutinizes as he leans closer, pushing Christ back against the metal siding of the bus with nowhere to go.
Chris gulps and stutters on a breath. Thanks to that web of communication, he’s known about the night you and Remmick shared, but also the lack of such moments since. That, and his own foolish, immature drive and lust for you fueled his unsavory pursuit tonight, his own filthy thoughts that flowed into Remmick’s.
“I gave you eternal life, child. I can take it away just as easily. Don’t. Make. Me.” With a flash of those smoldering red eyes and the resolution that Chris will need a harsher, more controlling grip of guidance, Remmick leans back into the leather booth seat and fixes his gaze onto the road ahead.
From a few rows back, you catch a brief glimpse of the interaction through the semi-blocked view of the other students ahead, heads swaying with each bump and turn to obscure your vision. It peaks your curiosity and makes you think briefly that maybe Remmick cares more than he’s let on. That he takes his own testament that you are his more seriously that he’s shown in the week since that night, fueling the fire of desire burning within you.
A vibration radiates through your palm, blue-light illuminating your face on the dark bus.
Come on baby talk to me. You can’t just break up with me for no reason!
The newest text from James in a string of messages you haven’t responded to in the week since you broke up with him, ranging from pleading to despair to anger. You scoff and dim the screen, wondering how long it’ll take until he finally gives up. He didn’t give a damn about you anyway, and though you only had Remmick’s vague words and their implication to go off of, even through the haze of lust in that moment you knew them to be true. And after sealing the deal while bent over that classroom desk, you’d known there was no other choice.
It’s rich, really. The way James is putting in more effort now that you’re broken up than he ever did when you were together. Staring out at the passing streetlights and the stars in the sky, you marvel at how you used to look at his messages with such excitement and love, to now viewing them as an annoying pest that just won’t leave you alone.
Pushing those thoughts to the side makes way for Remmick to return to the forefront of your mind. If his interruption during the fiddle show and choice to sit next to Chris is any testament, your efforts to grab his attention tonight are seemingly working, and are only just getting started.
Despite this, Remmick keeps up his own efforts to uphold his uninterested facade once you all return to the classroom to finish out the short remainder of time by immediately jumping into a discussion about the show, the songs played that have already been referenced in class. All the while looking everywhere and at everyone but you.
His words are muffled, nearly unintelligible to your ears as you drink him in, body shifting back and forth in front of that desk he had you bent over last week. A spark of heat blooms lower, radiating throughout your body with the thought. The unmistakable pulse of your walls with the phantom sensation of his cock filling you up, stretching you so good you can’t help but sigh with the vivid memory. Saliva pools in your mouth just as your folds grow slick, hungry eyes feasting on the body that drove yours to new heights of pure bliss.
Just as Remmick’s eyes scan toward your side of the classroom, your thighs part beneath the desk, a shiver tingling through as the air hits your bare, slick cunt. An upward trailing hand along your thigh pushes the fabric of your dress higher. From his position at the front of the classroom, he’s the only one that can see the downright filthy sight. At just the right angle to view the puffy, slick folds of that sweet pussy of yours beneath the dress, between your parted thighs.
And he does.
The tantalizing scent of your arousal hits him just as the sight does, causing only a brief stumbling in his words, but faltering nonetheless. His throat runs dry, the clearing of it and wet swipe of his tongue along his lips doing little to mitigate the thirst. His eyes slip up to your face, observing the way your teeth dig into your bottom lip as they curl into a smirk. Just as quickly as you captured his sight he forces his gaze away, but not without you noticing the slight fumble of his words and expression, the clear effect you have on him.
With a quick glance to ensure none of your classmates could see, your hand travels higher and higher, slipping beneath the dress as Remmick tries to carry on the discussion. Your fingers softly pass over the wet slit of your pussy causing a hitch in breath while you continue to drink him in.
The now tense set of his jawline, the fresh wetness of his plump lips, the flex of biceps as his arms cross over his chest.
Remmick tries to focus on a student sharing their thoughts on the performance, meanwhile every breath fills his nostrils with more of your scent, the smell of your aroused cunt. Even as Jess speaks, he peeks back over to you only to find the sight of your fingers now parting the wet folds between your thighs. His nostrils flare, thick saliva fills his mouth, and that deep seated hunger spreads through his chest and body with a low, muted growl rumbling up his throat.
Only indulging in the sight for a moment, Remmick rips his gaze away with a sharp inhale just as Jess concludes her thoughts. “Thank you, Jess.” A courteous but stiff smile is thrown her way before addressing the rest of the class.
“Why don’t we go ahead and call it a night there. Don’t forget y’all got a quiz on Tuesday over the readings this week.” The other students immediately begin to collect their belongings and rise from the seats to shuffle out of the classroom.
“Not you.” He interjects upon seeing you begin to do the same. “You stay. We need to have a chat.” The sternness of his words send a thrill through you, wordlessly settling back into your desk seat.
It only takes a mere matter of seconds that feel much longer until the classroom clears, leaving only you, your professor, and the thick air of tension that's been brewing between you.
Leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed, Remmick finally fixes his narrowed gaze back onto you.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” His tone is almost accusatory, impatient, unamused. And you can’t help but grin, teeth digging into your bottom lip doing little to stifle it.
“Maybe I am. Trying to atleast.”
He exhales a short chuckle before trailing his eyes down your body and still parted thighs.
“So desperate for my attention you’d throw yourself at that boy, play with yourself in class where anyone could see… Like a needy lil whore?”
Your eyes widen and breaths hitch before coming out heavy and short, body blazing from within.
The degrading insult has you stunned in silence, mouth hanging ajar. You aren’t sure how to take it, even as your pussy pulses in response.
“Speak when you’re spoken to.”
A slight tremble courses through you with a stifled whimper and a harsh exhale through your nostrils. “Yes, Sir.”
Remmick’s arms uncross, hands settling to grip onto the edges of the desk.
“I never told you to stop... Keep goin’. Show me how needy that cunt is for me.”
A nod and the way his gaze zeroes in on your throbbing pussy leaves no confusion behind his command, and you waste no time to obey.
Shaky fingers find the sensitive bud atop your slick folds, earning a jerk of your hips as the pad of your finger brushes over it. You don’t dare stray your stare from his, even as a blush creeps over your skin with the exposed feeling that comes with never having masturbated in front of someone before.
It's different now than it was a few minutes ago when you were merely trying to grab his attention. And now you have it, undivided and unwavering.
It’s nerve wracking and thrilling, like you’re putting on a performance for him.
Your thighs spread as wide as they can beneath the desk as you rub slow lazy circles onto your clit, strained whimpers barely slipping through your lips. Each rock of your hips into the motion presses your finger harder against the bud, spurring tingling waves of pleasure that heighten the sounds rising from your throat.
Remmick can see the way you grow slicker with each second, the way your cunt pulses and begs to be stretched, can hear your heavy breaths and moans grow higher pitched as your movements grow faster, needier.
“Eyes on me.” He’s quick to correct as soon as your gaze begins to falter, lids threatening to shut with the heady sensations.
With a soft whine you obey, a glance down to the outline of his hardening cock only heightens your arousal, prompting your fingers to move faster and harder, drawing tight circles. The wetness seeping from your pussy spreads, easing your movements, skin gliding against tender skin, sparks of pleasure coursing through tensing limbs.
Just as you’re about to reach the crescendo, his voice still echoes through the haze of your pleasure and pounding heartbeat. “Stop. Now.”
“Please.” A pathetic plea exhaled through heavy breaths, your hand shakes to fight the urge to keep going as you attempt to obey, even as your hips tremble with the desire to rock against it for friction.
He smirks with a dismissive shake of his head. “After the way you’ve been actin’, like a brat, you deserve to be punished.” One hand leaves the edge of the desk to slowly palm the aching erection in his pants, jerking at the touch. “You don’t get to cum until I say you can.”
The words send a rush through you, even as you huff and sink back into the seat with reluctant obedience.
The air of silence that hangs between you is thick, palpable with unbridled lust and desire, but brief as your phone vibrates on the desk, the sound echoing throughout the classroom.
“Someone’s calling…” Remmick observes with a cocked eyebrow as the buzzing continues.
“It’s not important-” You begin before his movements cut you off, lifting himself off from his desk to lumber toward the source of the interruption.
The incoming call ends just as he rounds your desk but the screen remains illuminated long enough to see the numerous notifications of ignored calls and text messages from James. Closed lips deafen his throaty chuckle at the sight.
“Baby, I miss you so much.” His tone is theatrical and condescending as he mocks the most recent text. “Can’t seem to take a hint, can he?”
His gaze shifts from the phone to regard you, hand reaching out to curl a finger under your chin. “Or maybe you weren’t clear enough, makin’ him think he still has a chance. If the way you threw yourself at Chris is any indication…”
Your lips part to gawk at the accusation undercutting his words, the idea you could be stringing James along in any way.
“I was clear. He just doesn’t want to accept it. And Chris… I was just trying to get your attention.”
The pleaful retort puts a smirk on Remmick’s face. “Well you’ve got it, darlin’.”
The pad of his thumb brushes over the swell of your bottom lip before pulling his touch away entirely, striding leisurely toward the front of the classroom.
“I trust you’ve been keeping up with the readings in your free time?” His eyes flicker back to you as he rounds his desk.
“Yes, Sir.”
His pointer finger crooks, beckoning your body to rise from the seat and join him at the front of the room, nerves of anticipation sparking throughout you with each purposeful step.
“You sure? You wouldn’t want to disappoint me now, would ya?” The low, rumbling words settle into a tingle between your thighs, wide eyes gleaming up at him as he takes a step closer, leaving barely an inch between your bodies.
“Never.” You exhale, shaking your head in tune with the declaration that pulls a teeth flashing grin from his lips.
“Let’s just see about that, hmm?”
Strong, firm hands grab onto your hips, turning and shifting your body until your back meets the cool, smooth surface of the whiteboard. You watch as Remmick slowly descends your body, hands dragging down your sides until his knees hit the hard tiled floor.
“You were supposed to read ‘The Mystery’ this week…” His hands glide down your bare thighs before moving to hike the hem of your dress up to your hips. “Recite it for me.”
Those blue eyes lock onto yours, breath fanning over your wet, bare cunt before his hand slides to the back of one of your thighs, hoisting it up and over his shoulder. You let out a breathy gasp, adjusting your balance with only one leg to stand on, a hand reaching for his hair to steady yourself.
One hand grips onto your thigh as the other rests over the softness of your stomach. The smell of your arousal is too intoxicating to resist and his tongue slips out to slowly drag through your folds to taste that sweet, heady nectar before he can even give you a chance to follow his command, eliciting a breathy sigh instead. He just can’t help himself.
A low hum rises from his throat at the taste. “Go on.”
You gulp and take a shaky deep breath as your mind races to recall the poem you’d just read last night, visualizing the lines of black ink on paper.
“I am the wind which breathes upon the sea,” You remember the starting line easily enough, eyelids fluttering with another long drag of his tongue.
“I am the wave of the ocean… the murmur of the billows- oh!” A heavy flick of his tongue makes your back arch off the cool whiteboard. Your fingers sink deeper into his hair and your hips shift to press more firmly against his mouth as his tongue begins a relentless assault against the bundle of nerves. Licking, swirling, suckling.
“The ox of seven combats… I am- fuck - I am the vulture on the rocks.”
“Upon.” The correction is muffled against your folds.
“Upon the rocks.” Your voice is breathy and unsteady, shaken by the overwhelming pleasure of his tongue.
With a glance down you find his own eyes closed, seemingly lost in savoring you as groans begin to replace his voice. His face is buried between your legs, tongue lapping at every inch of your cunt he can reach. Tongue dipping into your entrance, swirling against your walls to lap up your essence before returning to abuse your throbbing bud.
“I am the beam of the sun… oh god, yes!” Remmick’s lips seal around your clit, sucking hard just as his hand leaves your thigh to prod two of his thick fingers against your wet, clenching hole, sinking in knuckle by knuckle until they're fully sheathed inside you.
“Fuck, I am the fairest of plants!” The words of the poem come out through strained moans, the leg holding your weight beginning to tremble.
The sucking sensation against your sensitive bud feels like pure, electric sin, fueled by his fingers stretching and stroking your fluttering walls. The dual sensation is overwhelming and derails your train of thought, your mind unable to resist leaning into the intense haze of pleasure.
You don’t even realize you stopped reciting the poem, too overcome with the new avenue of pleasure that once again, only he seems to be able to give you. No one else has ever eaten you like this, and your own fingers are nothing in comparison.
A whine bursts from your lips when his thick digits stop moving inside you, his mouth no longer suctioning your clit. You look down to find his eyes now open, peering up at you.
“I don’t remember tellin’ you to stop.” He pulls his lips away, now glistening with your slick, just enough for you to hear him clearly, to hear the underlying warning in his voice.
“Fuck, um…” With a shake of your head you try to refocus back on the now blurry memory of the poem in your mind, chest heaving with ragged breaths. “I am the…”
Your face scrunches, your mind panicking as it pulls a blank on the next line while your body aches for the return of his touch.
“Wild boar.” Remmick jogs your memory, voice hoarse before fixing his eyes back onto your swollen cunt. He shouldn’t guide you, should’ve reprimanded you, but the craving for more of your cunt overtakes it.
“I am the wild boar in valour.” The line returns to you, relieving some of the panic while his tongue and fingers immediately return to work your pussy, obliging your aching body.
The way his lips suck your clit is greedy and harsh, sending an intense spark of pleasure through you that only escalates with the curling of his fingers.
“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, eyes squeezing shut with your head falling back against the hard surface behind you, your thighs trembling beneath you and on his shoulder. Your grip tightens in his hair as your free hand scrambles to grip onto the bottom ledge of the whiteboard, sending markers and an eraser to clatter onto the floor.
“I am- oh god- a fish in the… fuck, the water!” The heat flushing your body blazes into a raging inferno, your now slick skin beginning to slip against the smooth surface of the board against your back.
Too fast for your hazy mind to keep up with, Remmick abruptly pulls his mouth from your clit, the hand against your stomach moving down to land a firm, chastising slap against your wet, throbbing cunt. You gasp, hips flinching and walls clamping down around his now still fingers.
“Salmon.” The reminder carries the same low and warning tone from earlier. His gaze is hard, even as his expression twitches between domineering and a satisfied sneer at your desperately wrecked reaction.
“Salmon. A salmon in the water. Please!” The wanton, helpless plea is music to his ears, shooting right to his aching, throbbing cock.
He obliges, returning his mouth to assaulting your swollen clit and fingers relentlessly caressing that spongy spot along your walls. Your throat grows dry with the unmistakable building pressure in your core.
“I am the lake,” You attempt to begin the next line, voice as unsteady as the leg supporting your weight is becoming. “In the… in the field?”
The uncertainty in your voice proves to be true as you feel Remmick begin to pull away from you once more, breaking off the pleasure building to a shattering cusp in your core. You’re so desperate for it, trembling and aching for it so badly that without thinking your grip tightens on his hair, holding his mouth to your clit. Your hips begin to rock, chasing the incoming high with ragged breaths falling from your parted lips.
Remmick’s tongue swipes against the bud, lips sealing to give one last hard suck before he overpowers your hold. With a dizzying speed he pulls away and rises to his feet with a growl, firm chest restraining your body against the board.
“Oh, you’re just beggin’ to be punished.” A calloused hand wraps around your throat, fingers lightly pressing into the sides to begin hindering your heavy breaths. His nose brushes against your cheek, obscuring his face from your vision but still able to hear the shaky restraint in his voice.
“Told ya you can’t cum without my permission and look at ya, actin’ like a bitch in heat.” He spits out the last words with exasperation, but they only make your now empty cunt clench in response. “Is that what you are?”
“I’m sor-”
Another slap to your swollen clit cuts off your words with a yelp, fingers tightening ever so slightly in warning around your throat, spurring your hands to grip onto his arm.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Say it.”
“I’m a bitch in heat.” The restrained, whimpering repetition pulls a low, gravely chuckle from him, vibrating against your skin.
“That’s right. Now, clean up the mess you made.” He removes his hand from your throbbing cunt, bringing the fingers slick with your juices to your parted lips.
With a humming groan you readily take the digits in and suck them clean. He holds his fingers in the warm, wet expanse of your mouth, plunging them deeper and deeper to the back of your throat until you gag. A string of saliva connects them to your mouth as he pulls them out, a strained gasp rising from your throat still hindered by his grip.
A tremble rises from deep within his body and vibrates into yours while his face shifts, grip loosening to allow his nose to brush along the curve of your neck. His mouth hovers over your pulse point while your chest heaves against his with desperate gulps of air.
Overwhelming, withheld passion mixes with hunger and the frustration you pull from him that he loves more than he’d ever admit to you, combining into an all consuming transformation he doesn’t have the strength or desire to hold back anymore.
You’re too absorbed in catching your breath to notice the slight shift within him; the thick saliva now sticking to the sensitive skin of your neck, the long nails beginning to dig into the soft skin of your jaw- until it bleeds into his voice.
“Ye know, ye were right to be suspicious of me. Yer smart when ye want to be, aye?” The foreign accent catches you off guard, one so similar to the recordings you’ve heard in class. Irish. “When yer cunt isn’t takin’ over, that is.”
His chuckle rumbles against your neck before pressing his lips to it with a wet kiss, dragging his tongue along the prominent vein your blood courses through.
Slowly, Remmick begins to shift, pulling his face from your neck to come fully into view of your gaze. There’s an unnatural red glow reflecting in his eyes, the same fleeting flicker you saw a week ago, except this time it doesn’t disappear. Parted lips reveal a row of jagged, sharp teeth, two drops of thick drool seeping out. Teeth meant for tearing into flesh, for feeding, for killing.
Neither of you speak for a moment, letting the revelation hang in the air and seep into your bones.
“Are ye scared?” The question is low and breathy, red eyes studying your reaction as his clawed thumb slowly drags across your bottom lip.
You should be. Your intuition that something is off about him was true, but you never imagined this was the truth. He’s not entirely human. He’s immortal, fully capable of ripping you to shreds in this moment if he wants to. Even still…
“No.” You answer without missing a beat. Adrenaline may be coursing through your body, but it’s not from fear. It’s from excitement. Thrill. Arousal.
A low hum meets your ears as his claws shift, caressing over your warm cheek to cradle the side of your face. His solid frame presses more firmly against yours until there’s no space left between you, free hand trailing over the goosebumps now spreading along the skin of your arm.
“Do ye trust me?” The question comes out softer and you swear you see it reflected in those red orbs beholding you.
The answer comes to you right away, and perhaps it makes you insane.
Perhaps wanting to stay here under his mercy instead of running for the door makes you stupid.
And even if you are, with the look he’s giving you now, one you’re sure is of not just hunger but of pleading, you wouldn’t want to be anything else.
In this moment there’s only one thing you’re sure of. You want him. All of him, and anything he’ll give you.
“I do.”
Remmick’s expression softens briefly, a genuine smile twitching at the corner of his lips before they instantly capture yours in a kiss. It’s passionate, possessive, consuming. Like he can’t add another second to the week that’s passed to feel your lips against his again. With a moan, your tongue can’t help but to slip out and run along the jagged line of his fangs. Fearless. Enamored. The action earning a deep groan from his mouth into yours.
Just as quickly, he breaks the kiss. His lips moving to hovering over yours, shared heavy breaths filling the space between.
“That’s my girl.” The possessive praise makes you weak in the knees along with the tender gesture of his nose brushing against yours, the reverence in his eyes.
“Ye still need to be punished, though.” The tips of his fangs peek out with a lopsided smirk, eyes locking onto yours as his hands drop to the belt around his waist. Even with the metal clinking sound of the undoing buckle, the whoosh of the leather gliding out of the fabric loops, your near hypnotized gaze doesn’t dare drift from his.
“Ye gon’ be a good girl and take it, won’t ye?” He asks with a tilt of his head, belt clasped in one hand as the other reaches for your hip, pulling you a step away from the board.
“Yes, Professor.”
Sliding his hands down your arms, he gathers yours behind your back. Watching your face as the leather wraps around your wrists with ease, he pulls the belt taut to restrain them. Instinctively, your hands flex to test the secureness of your new restraints only to find them tightly bound with little give, the material digging into your flesh with every move of resistance. It’s a loss of control you’re giving to him so freely, and one that only makes you wetter.
“Now, get on yer knees and put that pretty mouth to use.” The command comes out as a low purr that shoots through to your core like an electric current. With wide eyes locked onto his, you find yourself immediately obeying as your body lowers until your bare knees hit the cool, tiled floor.
Sitting back on your heels, you feel your mouth begin to salivate as you watch his fingers pop open the button of his slacks and slide down the zipper. You watch the outline of his bulging cock move, his hand reaching in to grasp and pull it out. A desperate moan slips out of you at the sight of his long, hard, and veiny length bobbing in front of your face.
Without waiting for any directive, you lean in to wrap your lips around the leaking, swollen head, sucking and swirling your tongue around it. A low, groaning chuckle echoes above you before his claws grab hold of your hair, pulling your lips off his tip with an audible pop.
“Get it nice an’ wet first, kitten.” The new pet name spoken in that Irish brogue makes your eyes flutter, though you force them open to maintain eye contact.
As you lean closer with an outstretched tongue, his grip loosens. Your tongue glides along the underside of his length, from the base to the tip before diving down to repeat the motion again, along the sides and every throbbing inch of him your tongue can reach.
“Tha’s it.” He comments breathily, the sharp edges of his fangs digging into the plump flesh of his bottom lip. His cock jerking along your tongue as you stare up at him doe-eyed, obediently licking every inch of his length.
Collecting all the saliva in your mouth, you spit along his cock, using your tongue to drag the slickness all over his shaft, swirling along his tip with every pass. Seemingly satisfied, he wraps his hand around the base and rubs the tip along your parted lips with a soft groan. The tip dips into your mouth, pressing against the inside of your cheek and stretching your lips wide. Pushing and stretching until the tip pops past and out of your mouth, glimmering with your saliva under the fluorescent lights.
You keep your tongue out even as he slaps his cock against your cheek, dipping it into your mouth only to pull out and do the same to the other side. Your soft sounds begin to carry a pleading tilt with his continued teasing, only increasing the craving to have him fully in your mouth again.
“Please, Professor.”
“Please what?” He coaxes, more strings of drool slipping past his lips.
“Please, let me suck your cock.”
“Well, since ye ask so nicely…”
He guides his cock toward your eagerly waiting mouth before immediately sliding a couple inches in, catching you off guard. With a heavy exhale through your nostrils, you recover quickly enough to begin sucking and dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft, moaning at the taste and feeling of him spreading on your tastebuds.
The grip on your hair tightens, claws lightly scraping along your scalp as he uses the leverage to plunge the rest of his cock down your throat and holds it there. He admires the way your lips stretch taut around his girth, your wide eyes staring up at him as they begin to water, your nose nuzzling against the patch of curls at the base. The way your throat begins to constrict around him pulls a low growl from his throat, making you choke on him until you gag.
He pulls his full length out just enough for you to gasp for air before plunging back in again, hips bucking and setting a fast and steady pace. One of his hands braces himself against the whiteboard behind you, the other keeping a hold on your hair as his hips rock, fucking your mouth with his thick cock.
Low whimpers mix with the quick, heavy breaths that slip out of his parted lips, fighting between the impulse to close his eyes with the pleasure and to keep them open to watch you. To watch the way you fight to keep up with his thrusts, the way your cheeks hollow with the steady sucking of your mouth around him. A sight that hasn’t left his mind in the last week, only this time, with your hands restrained and the full reign given over your mouth is much filthier.
“So good-” The choked out moan is all he can manage as his pace quickens, his tip hitting the back of your throat hard and fast.
You try to focus on steadying the breaths flowing in and out of your nostrils, trying to keep yourself from gagging against the relentless fucking of your throat. Tears blur your vision, a stray slipping out and down your cheek. Each strained choke and gag beckons saliva to flood your mouth, covering his cock and dripping down onto your chest.
To him, it’s a beautiful and glorious sight, reducing you to a visible mess. And to you? The slight discomfort is nothing compared to the desire to please him, to do anything he asks you to.
A dull but sharp pain radiates through your hands, nails digging into the pad of your palms as you attempt to keep up with his rapid thrusts, trying to keep your throat relaxed and open. Just when you’re sure you can’t take much more he pulls out, sending you gasping for air with a string of saliva connecting his tip with your lips.
He grins down at you, red eyes blazing as they observe the way you try to catch your breath, chest heaving and glistening with spit. After a few seconds, Remmick shifts closer again and rubs his shaft along your swollen lips sloppily, spreading the mixture of saliva and pre-cum over your now glistening face.
“Jus’ a cock hungry whore, aren’t ye?”
“Yes,” Your now raspy voice immediately answers, wet eyes fluttering up at him.
One hand grabs onto your jaw as the other slaps your warm cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to straighten your spine and make your eyes widen as he leans over you.
“Say it.” Another slap sends an electric jolt right to your soaking cunt, clenching around nothing.
“I’m a cock hungry whore.” You repeat with a gasp, hips fidgeting with the fruitless seeking of friction, the slight sting of his slap radiating through your cheek and bleeding into pleasure.
The grip on your jaw tightens just enough to pull it down, opening your mouth wide. Your tongue lays out flat instinctively and he spits onto it, thick drool pooling onto the flattened muscle. His red eyes gleam as he watches you swallow it eagerly with a deep moan.
“Yeah ye are.” He groans approvingly, admiring the dazed glassy gleam in your eyes before returning to stand upright above you. “Show me how hungry ye are, darlin’.”
The breathy words fill your ears just as he steps closer until he's practically straddling your kneeling form, one hand fisting his cock as he brings his heavy, aching balls to your waiting mouth.
A deep, broken moan falls from his lips, head falling back as your warm, wet mouth engulfs them. The beautiful sound fuels your resolve and hunger, gently sucking the heavy sacks. Soon, your moans join and mix with his, your tongue licking and swirling around them, coaxing more of his moans as his hips slightly jerk from the sensation.
The grip on your hair tightens as a rock of his hips pulls his balls from your mouth and sends your tongue delving lower to the space beneath them. You crane your neck, tongue readily lapping at the stretch of sensitive skin. Remmick’s teeth grit, sucking air between them as he begins to ride your mouth, each pass sending your tongue closer and closer to his clenched hole.
“Dirty little girl.” His gravelly words respond to your depraved moans as you bury your face between his thighs, tongue seeking out to lick and prod at his hole.
One hand continues to lazily stroke his throbbing cock as the other uses its grip on your hair for leverage to grind himself onto your mouth. His moans grow breathier and broken with each swirl of your tongue around the hole, each act of worship and hunger for every inch he’ll allow you to taste.
“Ye pretty mouth was made for sin… feels so good.” A gasping whimper pours from his lips, every glide of your tongue sending sparks of pleasure through his buzzing body. The grip on his cock tightens, stroking movements growing hasty, hips rocking to chase the pleasure of your tongue. His thighs begin to twitch, eyes rolling back as your moans vibrate against the sensitive skin and throughout him.
Chest heaving with heavy breaths, he forces his rolled back head to shift and look down at you. The debauched sight alone almost unravels him completely. Most of all, it’s finding your half-lidded, glazed eyes peering back up at him as your tongue hungrily licks his asshole, savoring every inch. He lets out a sharp sigh, a tremble running through his body with the exhale.
A tight grip of your hair pulls your face from its place buried in his core before his hold releases completely, only for both hands to fall to your hips, lifting you off the ground and onto unsteady feet. You don’t stand on them for long as his body locks yours back against the board again.
“Ye gon’ be a good obedient slut for me?” He asks breathlessly, rushed and needy as his hands find the back of your knees, lifting your feet off the ground and bending your legs back to your sides.
“Yes, Professor. I’ll be so good, promise.” Your words mimic his, coming out in a breathless rush with your still restrained hands attempting to grip onto something.
A pleased purr rumbles in his throat in response, his heavy length finding your drenched folds, hips rocking to coat his shaft in your juices, to heighten your both already pent up states. The back of your knees hook over his elbows as his hands drift lower to the meat of your thighs, claws digging into the tender skin.
His crimson eyes hold yours and with one last grind through your folds, the tip notches at your entrance and he sinks the entire length inside you with one swift thrust. Your back arches against the board, throwing your head back with a gasping, guttural moan that joins his own. You can almost cry at the sensation, the deep, full, delicious stretch that’s plagued your mind and body in the week since your last coupling.
Your warm, wet walls immediately welcome him in, stretching and pulsing around his thick girth. Remmick’s forehead rests against yours, noses brushing, heavy pants and groans filling the small space between your lips.
“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ bout this pussy,” he groans with a shallow thrust. “Takin’ me so sweet.”
You whimper with the filthy words wrapped in an Irish accent and the slow, dragging feeling of his cock sliding out of your cunt before stuffing you full again with a sharp thrust.
A deep chuckle bubbles past his lips. “Aye, looks like she’s missed me too.” He remarks, feeling your walls already clenching, squeezing his dick like it never wants to let him go.
“Ye missed my cock, kitten?” The sultry question comes out in a purr against your ear just as his hips roll, setting off a deep and hard pace that knocks the breath from your lungs.
“Oh- yes! Missed your cock- so much!” You let out a loud moan, words strained and broken with each thrust that rock your entire body up against the whiteboard, smearing the leftover words from tonight's lesson.
You long to grab ahold of him, to grasp at his skin and the shirt lining his broad shoulders. The leather of the belt burns against the tender skin of your wrists as they flex against the restraints, the pain dull and bleeding into the pure ecstasy of his body joined with yours.
A hand slides up your side, seeking the strap of your dress to yank down and fully bare your bouncing breasts to his gaze. His mouth immediately latches onto your nipple, thrusts never faltering as he groans against the sensitive peak. The sensation of his tongue flicking against your nipple before giving a harsh suck, sharp teeth teasing the skin sends a shiver down your spine, mixing with his thick shaft dragging along your pulsing walls.
Your sweaty palms attempt to grasp onto anything, finally curling around the ledge of the board, the metal beginning to creak under your hold. But it gives you just enough leverage to aid in the bouncing of your body, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts and fucking yourself onto his cock.
Loud, guttural moans flow from your mouth, mixing with his and the wet slapping where your bodies meet to create a debauched symphony, filling the classroom and no doubt echoing down the empty halls.
The unmistakable feeling of that coil tightening in your core hits you, hanging on by a thread threatening to snap at any second and send you tumbling over the edge into an orgasm. Your entire body tenses, your cunt squeezing around him as you try to hold it off, remembering his rule.
“P-please! Please!” You cry out, the wet popping sound of his mouth releasing your bruising nipple soon following after.
“Fuck,” He falters momentarily with a breathy moan before his hand moves, curling over your thigh to land a sharp smack against your slick clit, earning a sharp cry and jerk of your hips. “Please what?”
“Please… can I cum, Sir?” The wrecked, pathetic sound of your voice makes his cock throb inside you, but he’s not going to give you what you want so easily.
“Ah, ye can do better than that.”
“Oh god. Please may I cum, Sir?!” Your broken plea wavers with each relentless thrust, thighs trembling over his arms as you hover right along the edge of sweet release.
Just as you’re sure you can’t hold back any longer, the fullness inside you is suddenly gone as Remmick abruptly pulls out of you, leaving your cunt frantically clenching at the absence. You let out a whine of protest, eyes growing wet with your near-climax denied once again. The wrecked and pathetic but all the more endearing sight of you like this, hair a mess, lips pouted, face scrunched up and eyes nearly streaming tears permanently burns itself into his mind.
“Shhh… ye’ll get yours. Need to make sure you’ve really learned your lesson first, aye?” He coos, almost tauntingly as his fingers brush along your chin. You’re not ready yet, there’s still another domino working on falling into place first.
Slowly, he begins to let your legs fall from his arms until your feet collide with the hard floor. Your legs are still shaking, but his chest against yours provides enough stability as his hands slide behind your lower back to reach the leather bounds around your wrists.
“Ye can keep goin’ for me, can’t ye, love?” He murmurs as his hands begin to unravel the restraints, glimmering red eyes perusing your face as you watch, mesmerized by the way the sharp tips of his fangs peek past his lips with every word.
You gulp, attempting to ease your dry throat before nodding. “Yes, Professor.”
A sigh leaves your lips with the freedom of movement as the belt is finally removed, thrown carelessly across the room to clatter along the hard tiled floor. They immediately seek him out, coming to rest along his biceps as he begins to pull you away from the wall. Your eyes are locked, a million unspoken words flowing between them as Remmick steps backwards, guiding your body with him until he stops.
His body sinks down into his desk chair, tongue slipping past the fangs to swipe at his bottom lip as he gazes up at you. Using the hands on your hips, he shifts your body, turning you around with your back toward him and pulling you down onto his lap.
Your body immediately melts into his, head falling back to his shoulder with his hard, aching cock nestled between your cheeks. The flimsy dress once adorning your body is bunched around your waist as his claws slide along your skin, coming up to grope and massage the mounds of your breasts, making your back arch against him.
“Put your feet up ‘ere.” A hand under your thigh guides your feet to the seat, bracketing his knees. “Ye liked when I fucked your arse last time, aye?”
The tingle that runs through your body in response answers before you can.
“God yes, Sir.” Your hips, now hovering above his, begin to rock in anticipation as he guides his swollen, red tip through your soaking folds, collecting your slick along his length.
"Greedy little slut.” The murmured words pulls a soft whine from you, just as he notches the tip against your puckered, fluttering hole.
Without waiting for an order, you immediately begin to slowly sink yourself down onto his shaft, sucking in a gasping inhale as the head pushes past your rim, your juices aiding in the breach. Your fingers grip onto the arm rest, nails digging into the leather cushions lining them with each inch that fills your still inexperienced hole, trying to keep your walls relaxed to ease his way in. Despite the foreign feeling that still lingers, the pleasureful ache and stretch of his cock overpowers it.
You sink lower and lower until he's fully hilted inside, and give yourself a moment to adjust with the sounds of your heavy breaths filling the space. Slowly at first, you lift your hips and slide your aching walls up and down his shaft.
His breath shudders against your ear, claws digging into your hips as his own begin to rock slightly to aid your movements, driving himself even deeper into your tight ass.
One of your hands lifts from the arm rest, reaching behind to sift into his hair just as one of his claws slides up the curve of your hip to palm the tender flesh of your breast.
"Feels so good, Professor." A soft whine falls freely from your parted lips as you bounce faster, fucking your ass onto his plunging cock.
Two of his fingers slide over your pebbled nipple, slotting it between them, squeezing and twisting the sensitive nub. Earning another high-pitched sound of bliss from your mouth.
"Squeezin' me so tight." Remmick grunts, choking on a moan as your walls clench around him in response.
The slick steadily seeping out of your cunt drips down onto his shaft, easing each thrust inside your asshole as the pace picks up, legs bouncing you faster up and down his length. His other hand leaves your hip to trail lower, listening to every breath and sound you make as it brushes over your swollen clit. Your hips jerk and you whimper, earning a shaky grin against your skin as he nuzzles his face into the curve of your neck.
His hand dips lower, brushing over the bundle of nerves until finding your leaking, empty, and clenching pussy. With a curl of his fingers, he slowly sinks two claws into your wet, fluttering cunt, relishing in the way both your holes squeeze around him in unison with the unexpected intrusion. Introducing a tantalizing, aching fullness you've never experienced, pulling a drawn-out, deep moan from the depths of your throat.
There's barely a moment to adjust to the added sensation before his fingers are rocking into you, matching the hard and fast pace of your ass bouncing on his cock. His claws curl just right, rough pads pressing against that special spot inside, the one that makes stars line your vision and sends a tremble down your thighs.
Your grip tightens on his hair and he groans in return, relishing the sting. "Ye like that, lass? Both ye holes bein' stuffed full'a me?"
"Yes! Oh- fuck, yes!" His cock throbs inside you from the sound of your unrestrained, wanton cries of pleasure, feeling both your holes pulse in sync around him.
The sweet, filthy, debauched music of your coupling fill the room, the sound of your ass bouncing off his hips, the wet gushing of your cunt, your combined wrecked moans and heavy breaths. It's the most beautiful song he's ever heard, one he plans to replay over and over again.
The layered sensations overtake your body, thrumming with pleasure threatening to burst at the seams of your skin. Your jaw begins to tense from the effort to keep it from trembling in time with the rest of your body, with the restraint to fight back the incoming avalanche from crashing over you.
A cocky smirk spreads across his lips as the sounds of steps and a shutting door meet his ears, knowledge from the hive mind of his scheme coming together, but it's a sound you're far too oblivious and lost in the throes of pleasure to notice. Not until his lips brush against your ear with a murmur.
"Looks like we got an audience."
Your heart jumps and eyes fly open, though your movements only falter slightly. There, through the window of the classroom door stands James, your classmate Sarah at his side. He's wide eyed, frozen still with his mouth hanging open while Sarah just grins, a light much like Remmick's reflecting in her eyes.
Shock and surprise rush through, dulled by the pure ecstasy coursing through you, but enough to make your breath hitch and goosebumps to rise along your skin. You should be alarmed, surely you should stop, but you don't. You can't.
Something about it is exhilarating, electrifying, and it's only heightened by the deep chuckle that rises from Remmick's throat, vibrating into yours.
"Now's ye chance to put him in his place, darlin'." Remmick's thrusts grow harder, making up for the falter in your pace, keeping you tangled in the toe-curling sensations. "Tell him who ye belong to."
His words hit you like a wave, sending a tingle to your core and anchoring you back into the feeling of him, all around and filling you.
"You- god!" Your moans grow louder with the added thrill, the possessiveness, the way your bodies move harder and faster together. "I'm yours!"
Remmick's red eyes gleam with your declaration, staring down James's paling face through the window. "Say it again." He pushes, pressing opened mouth kisses and dragging fangs along your pulse point.
"Yours, Professor. Only yours!"
You desperately suck in gulps of air, filling your lungs and exhaling as desperate cries. The shame at being caught and watched completely disappears, overtaken by the sick satisfaction of rubbing how good your Professor's cock makes you feel in your ex-boyfriend's face.
The stretch of three denied and edged orgasms builds to a crest, tears blurring your vision and slipping down your cheeks as your body feels like it may burst, the rumble before the explosion of a volcano.
His thick cock stretching your ass, fingers buried in your cunt and mercilessly rubbing your gspot, his other hand tweaking your nipple as he mouths at your neck, the thrill of being watched. It's all too much, too intense in the most deliciously depraved way possible.
"Please! Please let me cum, Sir!" Your cries turn into needy sobs, limbs trembling atop of him, body coiled tight. He breathes heavily against your neck, his own release rapidly approaching, the pulse of your walls and blood in your veins taking over his focus.
His mouth presses firmer against your neck as his moans grow higher, a fang scraping and breaking skin. The sting mixes beautifully with pleasure and his lips immediately latch onto the blood already seeping out of the small wound, your eyes rolling back with a deep moan at the feeling.
"Cum for me, baby." The gasping, murmured words send you over the edge, releasing the cracking dam holding back the flood of ecstasy to gush all over his fingers.
You let out a scream of pure rapture as a blinding intense orgasm hits you like a freight train. Tears fall freely, you entire body tensing and shaking against his, both holes clamping down on his cock and fingers. His moans become near animalistic as your blood floods his mouth and he greedily gulps it down. Chest shaking against your back with the weight of how own climax crashing over him in time with yours, his seed flooding the aching, clenching walls of your ass.
The overwhelming pleasure flows through and between your bodies like crashing waves, slowly receding and calming, pulsing with each touch to your tender body. Each breath that inadvertently drives his length deeper inside, the soft brush of his calloused fingers over your nipples, the slowing draw of blood from your neck until his lips pull away, tongue dragging to collect the last drops from the wound.
"Look at ye. So pretty and pathetic for me." The tone is affectionate, matching the brush of his nose along your tear stained cheek. He presses a kiss to the flushed skin, more teeth than lips as you whimper at the withdrawal of his fingers from your soaking cunt, his softening cock sliding out of your puckered hole.
The feeling of his claws softly drag along your lips and you immediately part them, moaning softly as you suck his fingers clean of your juices, still wading through the afterglow of your intense orgasm. Your entire body feels heavy, tired legs giving out to lay atop of his, his other hand dropping from your breast to wrap around your waist.
Sliding his now clean claws from your lips, they gently drop to cradle your jaw and turn your face toward him. Your lips meet in a kiss that takes it's time, slow and deep, but not lacking in passion. It's intimate, reveling in nature, letting yourselves bask in the connection you share, not just in flesh.
No, it feels different somehow. Transformed into something else, something deeper. Maybe it's your blood now spreading into his body, maybe it's now having seen who he is and giving yourself to him nonetheless.
Regardless, you readily welcome it, eagerly sinking into his lips pressing tenderly against yours.
"That's my girl. Ye did so good for me." The murmuring praise spreads like a soothing balm through your tired limbs, filling you with a different kind of warmth than the blazing inferno of your coupling. His strong arms shift your body, lifting your legs so you can curl into him, cradled against his chest.
The soft touch of his hands, feeling less like claws now, caress over the skin along your back and thighs to ease the descent from your intense climax, from the harsh words and treatment. In the arms of a man, a creature, that you still don't fully understand but know could mortally harm you if desired, you feel like you're floating. Each tender touch, each brush of his lips against your hair makes you feel more cherished than you've ever felt in your life.
By the time you fully come down from the high and open your eyes, the two observers are gone from the window and for a moment, you forgot they had even been there at all. You aren't sure how long ago they left and truthfully you don't care, but they didn't leave without a warning. One from Remmick himself, spoken through Sarah's mouth and to James's ears.
"He won't be botherin' ye anymore. And if he does, I'll take care of it." Remmick murmurs upon noticing your gaze flicker to the now empty hallway, his delivered threat no doubt weighing heavily on the boy's mind. If he wants to keep his pathetic life, he won't even glance your way ever again.
Your eyes meet Remmick's, still glimmering but less intense now, the crimson hue slowly fading back to ocean blue. His fangs now lack their jagged edges, like they too are fading and his claws, almost entirely receding to a normal man's hands.
With a nod, you leave his assurance at that, no doubts lingering in your mind. And perhaps, what should be alarming, no concern for James either.
Turning your gaze away from his, you can't stifle the soft chuckle that bubbles past your lips at the sight of the white board. Neatly written words in black marker now smeared and unintelligible, evidence of your unbridled passionate exchange.
"Think I made a mess of your lesson plan." His eyes quickly follow, a chuckle of his own mixing with yours.
"Aye, I say we should leave it like that." He glances back down at you, cocking an eyebrow. "Think anyone would catch on?"
A wide grin spreads across your lips, a blush flushing your cheeks as your soft giggles now fill the room.
After a moment he sighs, observing the weariness in your half-lidded eyes and body melting against his.
"Let's get ye back home, aye?"
You meet the softly spoken suggestion with a nod and stretch of your limbs, his strong hands steady as they help you onto still wobbling legs that feel more like jello than meat and bones. Rough hands move gently to refix the straps of your dress back over your shoulders, smoothing the fabric back over your hips. He pulls his slacks back on, threading the leather belt back through the hoops and fastens the metal buckle.
With a hand on your lower back, he guides you out of the classroom, switching off the light before you step out into the hallways and then into the fresh, cool night air that licks deliciously at your hot skin.
The campus is already near deserted this time of night, but he leads you down the pathways that go largely unwalked anyway, winding behind the main buildings until the familiar lights illuminating your dorm building come into view.
"Go on and head in, I'll meet ye inside." He gives you a nod, hand slipping from the space at your lower back to let you walk ahead. Your paths split with you walking toward the main entrance as he cautiously heads toward the dark parking lot stationed at the backside of the building.
With every step along the stairwell, you feel the weight of the days events and earlier exertions in your limbs and heavy eyes. Your key clicks into the lock, the door opening to reveal Remmick already there. His figure draped in shadows, the moonlight shining through the windows behind to illuminate the outline of him, curtains softly billowing with the breeze flowing from the open window.
In that moment, you're grateful you managed to land that RA job that provides your own room and bathroom. Explaining to a roommate why your professor just somehow managed to climb through your second floor window might be a little tricky.
The door clicks shut behind you as you tilt your head, observing him with curiosity. "Do you do that often?"
"Hm?"
"Help yourself into people's windows?" Amusement tinges your words with a smile and he chuckles in response, taking tentative steps closer.
"Usually I'd need an invitation. But, given my employment…" His movements halt just a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets. "But no.It's not my first time, in general and… in here.
Your brows furrow with confusion as you struggle to read his face, still shadowed by the darkness of the room. A few seconds pass before your brain catches up with a sudden realization.
"Did you come in here and steal a pair of my underwear?" The accusation carries more surprise than anger, eyes watching as his head dips with another chuckle, shoes moving another step closer.
"I knew what ye were doin' that night in the bathroom. Decided I needed to come and take a souvenir for myself." He's close enough that your breaths mingle together, close enough to see the soft edges of his face hovering mere inches from yours as he observes you.
"Couldn't help but to get a taste too while I was at it… Bet ye woke up with quite a mess between those pretty thighs that mornin', didn't ye?"
That night was far from the first or last time you'd dreamt about him, but none of the others quite affected you as much as that one did…
"You… tasted me while I was sleeping?"
"Are ye upset?" The slightest smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, as if he already knows the answer.
As your eyes trail over his face, your own softens and reflects the smirk on his.
"No…" You respond simply with a shake of your head, hand reaching out to slide down the fabric of the buttoned shirt covering his chest. "I was already yours then, just as I am now."
Remmick stills for a moment, his blue eyes soaking in every detail of your soft face gazing back at him. The calloused skin of his hand reaches toward you, coming up to gently cup the side of your face. As he leans closer, you don't waste a second to meet him halfway, lips colliding in a kiss that feels indulgent, sacred, carrying something deeper, bigger than either of you can bring yourselves to speak of yet.
Your hands anchor themselves on either side of his neck, bodies pressing flush together as his other arm wraps around you, holding you to him.
When your lips part, he remains close. Lips hovering a breath away, nose brushing against yours.
"Why don't we go and get ye cleaned up? Made a right mess of ye." The gently murmured suggestion elicits a smile and nod from you, taking his hand in yours before moving toward your bathroom.
Heavy steam fills the small room, billowing from the hot water cascading over your now slick bodies. His strong hands, covered in soapy suds, glide over your wet skin leisurely, cherishingly, as if to commit every inch of your body to memory. It feels like an intimate act of worship, a stark contrast to the other side of him you're so used to, a side that's soft and tender.
Every caress eases the tension held within your muscles, works you down from the intensity of your earlier coupling, makes you feel cared for in a way no other man has, encourages your body to lean back against his as his hands slide over your hips to your stomach.
"So soft… so beautiful, mo chroi." Goosebumps rise along your skin as he breathes out, nose pressing against your cheek and you melt even further into him, feeling his lips brush against the flushed skin.
Your hand slides up his arm, stalling to lightly grasp onto the muscle of his bicep as his touch trails lower, breath hitching with the slightest brush of his calloused fingers against the tender, puffy lips between your thighs.
"Rem- I'm so sensitive." The soft whine you let out isn't made as a deterrent despite the gentle movements of his fingers, as if to ease its effect on your overstimulated clit. As much as your earlier acts in the classroom took out of you, your mind and body could never deny more of him.
His name slips out so easily from your lips without thinking, not Sir or Professor, and you half expect him to reprimand you, to tease you until you get it right. But he doesn't, a finger rubbing slow, dragging circles around the sore bundle of nerves.
"Shh, I know… but ye don' gotta beg or earn it," He turns your body to face him, the physical remnants of the creature within long gone as his blue eyes admire you. "just let me make ye feel good, baby."
It only takes a moment before you find yourself nodding, hands moving to clasp at the back of his neck as your lips meet once again.
Caught in a tender, passionate kiss, you moan softly into his mouth as his body presses yours back against the shower wall. The hardened peaks of your nipples rub against his chest, flush against yours, the warmth from the hot water and your body seeping into him.
Your lips move against one another with ease, without even trying, savoring the taste and feeling of the soft skin adoring one another. He grabs onto the back of your thighs, lifting and encouraging you to wrap them around his hips as his hands move to your back, arms wrapping around to hold you close.
He greedily swallows every sound you make as his tongue slips past your lips, hard cock nudging between your wet folds, each brush against your clit eliciting a whimper.
Your tongues tangle in a slow, passionate dance just as his swollen tip notches at your entrance, breaching past with a gentle push. You groan into each others mouths as he slowly sinks deeper, inch by inch with your walls eagerly welcoming him back in, stretching to accommodate his pleasantly thick girth.
The movement stills once he's fully hilted inside, relishing in the sensation of you wrapped so sweetly around him. "So perfect." The murmur slips out quickly before his tongue is back on yours, exploring and claiming.
Despite expecting him to pull out almost all the way to slam back in, he doesn't. He keeps himself buried deep, slowly rocking his hips to grind himself inside you with sensual strokes. It's entirely different from when he had you in the same position barely an hour ago, but it's unraveling you just the same.
One arm remains wrapped behind his head as the other trails higher, fingers threading into his wet hair as your plush thighs squeeze around him, each gasp and whimper encouraging his movements.
Hot water pours over you, amplifying the heat flickering between your bodies, the sounds of them colliding. The drag of his shaft against your gspot with each rutting thrust works your overstimulated pussy closer and closer toward the peak, your walls tightening to pull him with you.
He can feel it with each quickening pulse of your walls, each pounding of your heartbeat against his chest and his own breathing grows ragged, strokes growing faster but still soft and passionate.
Every sensation and feeling of you consumes him, the way you're clinging to him, your whines of pleasure, your scent, the unwavering desire despite the beast inside.
"Tell me ye love me." He pants against your ear, pads of his fingers gripping onto the flesh of your back.
The way you looked at him in his true form with nothing but hunger and devotion in your eyes instead of fear, if you-
"I love you." You exhale sharply with moan, feeling your body coiling tight around him. The words fall easily from your lips without hesitation or second thought, and as soon as they leave your lips, they feel right. Now that you've had him, have had this… you don't want to imagine never having it again.
A shudder passes through his entire body, "Oh god. Say my name." The words are more of a desperate plea than an order, rocking into you deeper and faster.
"Remmick! Fuck, don't stop!" Your moans turn into cries, fingers tightening in the locks of his hair, nails digging into the skin of his shoulder.
"That's it, let go for me." The desperation, the unraveling in his voice that reflects yours blends in with the intoxicating pleasure filling your body with each thrust.
The back of your head meets the shower wall as you let out choked cry, pussy clenching around his length with your rapidly building climax. Your juices flood his shaft and with a whimpering grunt, his own peak hits with yours, burying himself deep inside as ropes of his seed fill your pulsing, gripping cunt.
Your body trembles against him with the weight of your orgasm, ears ringing and dulling the sounds of the water hitting the shower walls, the sounds of his groans and heavy breaths against your ear.
You remain clinging to each other as the waves of pleasure pass through, even as they diminish into the soft hum of an afterglow.
"Made for me." His words are reverent, murmured through soft kisses placed along your skin, trailing from your jaw until meeting your lips again.
Once his hands have finished washing away the remnants of the day, you find yourself even more ready to sink into bed, a blissful weariness weighing heavily in your bones. Dressed in a simple baggy tshirt, you're about to climb into the soft embrace of your sheets before Remmick's words stop you.
"Just… one more thing." He pulls your hand into his, eyes fixing to the silver Claddagh ring still set on your finger. After he'd changed it's positioning, it hasn't felt right to take it off, even since breaking things off with James. Because atleast in your eyes, it no longer was a reflection of your relationship with him, but to Remmick.
A silence passes between you as his fingers work to remove the band, only flinching slightly as the silver singes his skin. Without a second though, he tosses the ring into the trashcan before digging into his pocket and pulling out something gold, glimmering in the moonlight.
Your eyes squint, brow furrowing as you try to make out the piece of jewelry he now slides onto your finger to replace the old one. Instead of the silver Claddagh ring James had given you, a gold Claddagh ring now replaces it.
It's new to you, but there's a weight of age to it. A ring that's been around for a long time but well cared after, only small signs of wear etched into the band.
"Only felt right to replace that with somethin' real, original… somethin' mine." He explains, tilting his head to study your reaction as the pad of his thumb brushes over the heart and crown.
The weight of the ring and his words spur a flutter in your chest and a spark of warmth with it, shifting your gaze from the band and up to his peering, blue eyes.
"Thank you." Is all you can bring yourself to say, but it's enough for him. Just you, is enough.
He guides you into bed, sliding in under the covers after you. It doesn't feel strange or foreign, even if it is the first time you find yourselves sharing a bed, your legs immediately coming to tangle with one another, heads heavy on a shared pillow.
Your half-lidded eyes hang heavy, but he can still see the gears turning behind them.
"I know ye got questions, and I'll answer 'em. Tell ye everythin' ye wanna know." His low, smooth voice matches the soothing touch of his hand along your lower back. "But for now, just rest, darlin'."
A soft sigh leaves you with the weight of the unanswered questions looming in the back of your mind put off for another day. You close the small gap between you, pressing your body flush to his, seeking the comfort of his hold with your face nuzzling into the curve of his neck.
"I won't be here when ye wake in the morn', but I'll stay as long as I can."
And as his palm rubs circles into your back and lips press a kiss into your hair,
You believe him, drifting into a deep, peaceful sleep within his arms.