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Satisfaction - Part Two

~ NSFW, teacher x student ~

Reader is falling for their teacher.

Hey, yall. Hope you enjoy this getting turned into a full story with a plot as much as I am. I plan on making this four parts :3

pt. 1

pt. 3

pt. 4

~~~

Nothing has changed since you hooked up Schlatt. It’s like nothing had happened between you two, and it was all just a crazy, vivid dream. The past couple weeks of calculus class have been him avoiding your gaze, not talking to you, and treating you like all of your peers. There’s so much uncertainty in the air, at least for you; Schlatt’s air seems unaffected. The daydreams about him feel neverending, it’s like an addiction, they haven’t stopped since then. When you try to stop the scenarios of suggestive glances during class, horny texts during school, late-night rendezvous at his house, dates on the other side of town, they break back into your mind like an intruder. They aren’t all sexual, they’ve shifted romantically. You’re falling for him, or at least an idea of him you’ve been messing around with in your head. The subconscious part of you that expected more after hooking up with him was wondering where it all was, and the strangest part is this isn’t typical for you. No one has ever made you feel so giddy and delusional. But now you're stuck, quietly sitting in the back of his class, dreaming away like before.

“Alright, you devils, be quiet and look up here.” Schlatt walks briskly through the door and throws his stuff on his desk. His hair is shaggier than ever, he’s at his most disheveled by the end of the week. Fridays are your favorite not because of the weekend but because this man is at his most sarcastic and messy. “Gotta get you dumbasses ready for the final, so we’re gonna solve this problem together.” He writes on the board and you drift off, disinterested in learning the same fucking shit you’ve been learning from him the past year. It’s more fun daydreaming about him doing what you want.

He asks you to stay after school. While he grades homework, you can’t help but be a distraction. Climbing into his lap, running your hands all over his body, kissing him, grinding on him. He pulls out his cock for you to bounce on in your little skirt, while he continues working. But you want his eyes piercing into yours, his hands controlling the thrusts, his moans carrying around the room. You want all of his attention.

“Adin, that’s not even something you could do with this problem.”

You trace your lips against his ear. “Schlatt.” He squirms, his cock growing inside of you.

“Baby.” He rubs his hand across your back, pulling you closer. “I need to finish my work.”

“Daddy.” You’re breathing heavy in his ear, whispering your words. Your fingers comb through his curls, lightly tugging as you move your body up and down his length.

“Fuck.” He throws his pen on the desk, grabbing your waist and lifting you up and down. “Such a whore can’t even wait to get yourself off.”

“Morgan put the damn phone away!”

He lifts you on his desk on top of all the homework, standing over you and sliding his cock back in. He stares down at your pussy, listening to the sounds you're making from the pressure and speed of his thumb on your clit while stuffing his entire length inside you and dragging it out to the very tip. It’s slow and conscious; he wants you to cum.

“Please don’t stop, that feels so good.” You pull your legs up higher.

Schlatt hums, nibbling on his bottom lip. “I’m not stopping until you cum so hard you can’t even think.”

“You’re on the right track, but you missed a step.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, leaning in closer to you. “I want your sweat dripping all over your classmates' homework.” Your gut twists and your breathing grows heavier. You lock eyes with him. “Yeah?” Desperate for him to say more, you nod your head and mouth out a yeah. “You wanna cum on top of all their work?”

You moan and whine, writhing against him, wanting him to go faster. Talk more. Grab every part of your body. “Dirty little slut, what would they think?” You feel that familiar tightness in your legs.

“Daddy, keep talking, I’m so close.”

“That’s it baby. Want you to soak my thick dick with your wetness. Make a mess all over your teacher’s cock.”

“No, that’s not.” Schlatt’s real voice pulls you back into your surroundings. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose, holding the marker over the equation. “Y/N.” Your ears perk up as his voice echoes in your head. You haven’t heard your name come out of his mouth in so long. “You know what to do next?” Your eyes meet his, the explicit images fading out of your mind. You realize how warm your face feels and how tense your legs are from squeezing your thighs together.

“Uhhh.” You look at the board behind him, trying to take it all in. Everyone is quiet, waiting for your answer. Schlatt is waiting for his best student to show your incompetent peers how it’s done. But he rarely calls for your help on the spot like this and you can’t get your brain to work.

“You back there daydreaming again?”

Oh, my fucking god. Your stomach drops to your butt, swallowing as your throat tightens. Your gaze moves down, away from Schlatt’s judgemental eyes, your body moving with it, slumping into your seat. You want to sink into yourself. His comment hit your soul like he’s trying to target you, rub salt in the wound, and subliminally tell you this isn’t happening again. This is all a mistake that needs to be swept under the rug.

It isn’t uncommon for Schlatt to poke fun at his students; a month ago, you might not have minded, but now you’re overwhelmed with embarrassment, sadness, and rejection.

Your eyes dampen as you count down the minutes until you can leave.

~~~

You sit in the bathroom stall, wiping away the few tears that quietly fell down your cheeks. Graduation is in a few weeks, and you’ve been mentally done with school for a while now. The time spent with your school friends has been lackluster; you didn’t want to tell them you fucked your teacher because they would probably just freak out. Being in an empty house is boring you to death. Everything is uninteresting, except him. You’re craving his attention and praise. Nothing else matters.

You take a deep breath, grab your bag off the bathroom floor, and walk out of the stall into the hallway. His classroom door is closed and empty. Praying he hasn’t left yet, you go to the first floor to search for him. Checking the library, you see him sitting with a student, pointing at some papers on the table. You debate walking in and sitting down to watch them, but the longer you stare through the window, the more your feet feel glued to the ground.

“Who are we staring at?” You jump at the voice, seeing your friend standing and staring into the library next to you.

“Fucking hell.” You keep Schlatt in your peripheral, not wanting him to get away. “I don’t know, I’m just people watching.” Your friend squints at the few groups of people seated, noticing nothing particularly intriguing.

“Okay, weirdo. Are we hanging at your place tonight?” You swallow, looking back at Schlatt, noticing him laugh a bit. What is he laughing at? What did she say to him? She can’t be that funny. Not enough to make him laugh.

“Um.” You look back over at your friend, waiting for your response. “I’m not really feeling it tonight dude, sorry.” She nods her head.

“It’s chill, don’t worry about it.” You quickly focus your attention back to Schlatt. Your friend is still standing there, observing your strange behavoir. “You know, I’m always here if you need to talk about anything.” Your shoulders soften. “You don’t have to go through shit alone. It worries me when you isolate yourself ‘cause you always come back telling me all the impulsive shit you did.” Your gaze softens, as you turn to give her a thankful smile.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” She raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word your saying but regardless, chooses to butt out

“Just don’t get into some dumb shit, okay?” She pulls you in for a hug. “I’ll see ya.” And walks away. You watch her walk for a moment, wondering if she had a point, if you were acting maybe a little irrational. Or impulsive. You look back at Schlatt, now alone and collecting his things. You fix your hair up, watching him walk towards the door. He turns towards you out the door.

“Hey.” Schlatt jumps back, genuinely scared of your presence. “Oops, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jesus, Y/N.” He straightens himself out, clears his throat, and checks around the hallway before turning back to you. “Why are you standing here?”

“What, I can’t stand here?” He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Come on, Hon.” This fucker. “What do you want?” You feel rage bubbling up by him treating you like you’re just a random person.

“You know what I want.” Schlatt looks over at the library, growing nervous.

“Can we not talk about this here?” His voice is low, not trying to draw attention. You feel your ears burning.

“Where then? I don’t wanna wait any longer.” You raise your voice, feeling like causing a scene, embarrassing him like he embarrassed you. He grabs your wrist, pulling you away from the open door and the windows of the library, towards the end of the hall.

“Listen.” He leans down, his face close to yours, not letting go of your wrist. “We’re not doing that again.” He continues keeping it vague.

“Doing what again?” You play dumb, wanting to tease him, get him to verbally say what you two did. Maybe it will make something snap in his brain. Remind him how good it felt.

He looks at you sternly, not wanting to budge. “You know what.”

“Sir.” You smirk. “I really don’t know. Can you remind me, please?” Schlatt is visibly irritated, brows furrowing and lips pressing together.

“I’m not having sex with you again.” You cringe at his words, layered with the scent of alcohol on his breath. He has to have a stash somewhere in his desk for him to be smelling so strongly of alcohol at the end of the school day. Is this why he sweats so much? Or why he’s so mean sometimes?

“Bet you would if you were as drunk as last time.” He tightens his grip on your wrist, panic now forming in his eyes.

“We’re keeping all of this between us. You understand, Toots?” You don’t fight his grip, missing the way his hands handled your body. You bite your lip, moving your face closer to his.

“What’s in it for me?” You notice a silver cross dangling around his neck and use your free hand to slip the chain through your fingers. Schlatt lets out a long sigh.

“What’d you want, extra credit?” You stare at him silently, continuing to play with his necklace, twirling it around your fingers. “I told you, I’m not fucking you again.” You pull your wrist out of his grasp and back away from him, looking behind you at two students’ backs walking towards the other end of the hall, wondering if they saw anything. You turn back to Schlatt.

“I want whatever you're drinking.”

Schlatt rolls his eyes. “Sure, I’ll buy you a bottl–”

“No. I want a drink now.” You cross your arms. “With you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re not slick at all.”

“I’m not trying to be.” He stares at you, his body relaxing, finally taking your bait.

“Fine, just gimme like five minutes, and you can come upstairs. I don’t want you following me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’d look so weird.” You roll your eyes, watching him walk away, a smile growing under your rosy cheeks. You walk to the bathroom, throwing your bag into the handicap stall and jumping up and down like you're on a mini trampoline. You could sprint a marathon on the energy rushing through your body. You can’t recall a time someone, or even something, has made you this enthusiastic.

You doll yourself up, fixing your hair, smearing on your lip gloss, and spraying your perfume. Crazy that it’s happening again, your daydreams molding your reality. It almost doesn’t feel real, but you’re ending up at his place one way or another.

~~~

“Can’t believe I’m getting blackmailed by you,” Schlatt mutters as you walk into his classroom. He’s leaning back in his chair, filling a large, fancy shot glass to the top. He holds the glass out for you. “This is my favorite glass. If you break it, I’ll kill you.”

You smirk, walk over to his desk, and grab the glass. Schlatt stares at you as you slowly throw back the shot. You lock eyes with him as you swallow, a few drops dripping down your neck. The burn runs down your throat, but you don’t let your face constrict. He raises an eyebrow, grabs the glass from you, and pours himself a shot.

“You like Bénédictine?” He throws his shot back, face constricting.

“No, I prefer vodka.” You pull your bag out and grab your weed pen. “Actually, I prefer weed.” Schlatt glares at you.

“A stoner, great, just like all of your dumbass peers.” You cough out a cloud of smoke. A faint skunky smell filling your nose. “You shouldn’t be hitting that in here.”

You ignore his suggestion. “Don’t compare me to them.” He laughs.

“Aww, you think you're special?”

You feel your heart thumping in your chest as you take another hit of your pen, your body sinking into the buzz. You know he’s just teasing, joking around. But you are special. He fucked you on this desk. The same one he uses every day. He’s giving you shots of his private stash of alcohol in school. Letting you hang out with him and getting you inebriated, despite saying this should never happen again. Sure, it’s technically blackmail, but there’s no way he thinks you’d tell his colleagues what happened. You’d never get to see him again.

You make yourself comfortable on top of his desk. He pauses the typing on his laptop, looking you up and down, reminding you of the last time you were here.

“Special enough for you to fuck me and give me alcohol.” His face falls, as he turns his chair slowly towards you. You’re both silent, challenging him to a clever response. He pours himself another shot, filling it right to the brim and throwing it back. He shakes his head at the burn. “What, no rebuttal?” He scrunches his face up, letting out a painful breath.

“Do you have anything better to do with your Friday than steal my liquor?” You glare at him. “You should be stealing it from your parents and doing drugs with your friends.” He continues typing aggressively. The liquor is starting to flow through your veins.

“I do that shit literally all the time. Like every Friday.” You walk to the open window, watching a man drive the mower over the soccer field under the warm spring sun. “I’m tired of being in that house.”

“What are you avoiding your parents?” A lump forms in your throat, and your eyes grow damp. You bring your pen to your lips, taking in a deep breath of smoke and coughing it up to hide the water in your eyes.

“Feels like they’re avoiding me. They’re never home.” You scoff. “Pour me another.” You hear him open the bottle and pour a shot as you lean against the glass, staring at the fields.

“Why the fuck are you here when you could be home alone? That sounds like a teenager's dream.” Everything around you starts drifting away like it's being covered behind a glass box. Your house is always the spot for your friends. A two story, suburban with a nice backyard and a forest to explore. Fully furnished with comfortable seats and the newest electronics. You can do anything there: smoke, drink, snort. Not that you do snort, but you could. You could throw an entire party and invite everyone in your class, and they wouldn’t care, as long as they don’t come back to the house burnt down. You can do whatever. You can eat whatever. You can sleep whenever. You can fuck wherever. It’s like you have a free house, with landlords that visit a few times a month and buy all your food and supplies. It has its perks, and anytime you tell someone about it, they wish their parents were like that. But after a while, the silence and loneliness become unbearable.

“I don’t know.” You walk over to take your shot. “Just hate being there. It's boring.” You blow a long breath out, adjusting to the burn. “But, I guess it’s nice to have parents that don’t care to keep tabs on me.” You climb over Schlatt’s chair into his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“AY–”

“Because it gets me into situations like this.” You go in for a sloppy kiss as he grabs your waist, halfheartedly trying to push you off, but moving his lips against yours. He hums. You taste the alcohol on his breath, as he moves his hands to your shoulders, pushing your lips away.

“What did I say?” He squeezes your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes.

“I don’t remember, sir. Can you remind me?” He pushes you off his lap.

“You’re much cuter when you’re not acting like a clueless brat.” You stand next to him, eyeing the bottle of Bénédictine on his desk. This man is getting a brat whether he likes it or not. You know, deep down, he enjoys it. You grab the bottle off the desk and start chugging, getting a shot or two's worth in your mouth.

“Y/N!” Schlatt gets up from his chair, reaching for the bottle. You pull it away from his grasp. “Bitch, I swear to God!”

“What did you just call me?” You giggle, holding the bottle behind your back. He towers over you, clenching his fists.

“A bitch, 'cause that’s what you are! Now, give me my fucking bottle!” He holds his hand out as he backs you into a corner. Your face feels warm and your breathing grows faster as his smell fills your senses. You love the way he calls you bitch. Pushing the boundaries and thinking with your throbbing clit, you quickly take another swig, keeping your eyes locked with his. He breathes out his nose like a bull ready to charge.

“Give me that!” He grabs the bottom of the bottle, pulling it from your mouth, spilling some on your shirt. You swallow what's in your mouth, pulling the damp spot of your shirt away from your skin.

“Now I’m gonna smell!” He walks away, putting the bottle in the bottom drawer.

“You still need to drive home.” That is not happening. “I don’t wanna be responsible for your dumbass ending up in a ditch.” You walk over to your bag and pull out your perfume, getting an idea. You casually pull your shirt off, revealing your lacey, beige bra. Schlatt stares up at you, mouth slightly agape. You pretend to ignore him, spraying your perfume all over your chest. “Can you not strip in my classroom?”

You furrow your brows at him, genuinely taken aback. “You didn’t seem to mind last time.”

“If someone sees you–”

“Again, you didn’t give a fuck last time.” You shake your head. “Do you have a clean shirt I can wear?” He looks away from your chest

“Uh, yeah.” He opens the top drawer. “I actually do.” You take the t-shirt from him and throw it on. It smells like it’s been sitting in that drawer for months, with a hint of his pheromones. You smile, feeling yourself calm down. You hug yourself and plop your ass back down on his desk. Schlatt goes back to typing. The room falls quiet, just the sounds of keyboard typing, the wall clock ticking, and the nature outside.

“Is this all you wanted? To sit here and steal my alcohol while I try to do my job?” The liquor is flowing heavily through your veins now, your body is warming up like an angel came down and wrapped a soft blanket around you.

“Why don’t you just hush and enjoy the company.” You feel lightheaded and slightly nauseous, your inhibitions lowering. He places his hand on his chest, pretending to act taken aback by your typical bratty attitude. “What are you typing anyway?”

“Just some emails.” You didn’t care, you just wanted to fill the silence and keep his attention on you. “Are you ready for your final?” You roll your eyes.

“Girl, I’m the best in the class, you’re words.”

“Well, you should probably be studying since you lack the attention during class.” A fire burns in your belly, remembering the events of today.

“Not my fault your class is so fucking boring.” You cross your arms. Schlatt smiles, not looking away from the laptop screen.

“What were you daydreaming about?” You both already know he knows the answer, but you don’t want to give it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Mmm, I think I already do.” He glances at you. “But you should tell me anyway. I wanna see if I’m right.”

You stare at his fingers, typing away on the keyboard. “I thought that wasn’t happening again.”

“We’re not doing anything.” He looks you in the eyes, with a small mischievous smile. “We’re just talking, Toots.” Your breath hitches. His eyes are so pretty and soft, his hair is so sexy and messy, and his shirt is partially unbuttoned. You feel high and hot. The mix of weed and alcohol is hitting a peak, pushing you towards the edge.

“The room is spinning.” You feel yourself losing control, slight panic mixing with the horniness.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to go home.”

“I can’t drive, I took like five shots,” you slur out. Schlatt rubs his forehead.

“Shit.” Stressing under his breath, he stares off into space for a moment, before letting out a loud groan. “Okay, fine, I’ll drive you home.”

Fuck you’re so close.

“But what about my car?” You whine. “How will I get it home?”

“I don’t fucking know, that’s not my problem.”

“But it literally is your problem, you gave me alcohol.”

“You took it from me and drank way more than I wanted you to.” He starts packing his bag. “Can you get a friend to drive you? Don’t you have other family–”

“Let me stay at your place.” He drops his bag, pausing and staring at you like you have three heads.

“Y/N, no–”

“Please, then you can drive me back tomorrow.” You fall into him, his arms catching you and holding you in place. He’s so warm. “I promise I’ll stop bothering you. Please, I don’t wanna be alone.” Tears start flowing.

“Okay, okay. Fucking hell. Fine!” He pushes you into a standing position away from him. “But I’m serious, first thing tomorrow morning, I’m driving you back. No more messing around.”

Bingo.

You both grab your stuff and walk out into the hallway.

“You need to walk soberly,” he whispers, grabbing your arm and trying to straighten your wobbling body. You giggle, your attention moving to his big, veiny hand controlling you.

“Can’t really focus when you’re grabbing me like this.” You lean into his touch.

“Y/N, Stop!” He pushes you off him, releasing his warm hand from your arm. You flop your arms at him, wanting his body back near yours. He turns out the door of the stairway.

“Charlie, Hello!” You fix your posture and walk into the hallway to see the Principal walking towards Schlatt.

“Hello, John.” Mr. Cicle looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. “Hi, Y/N. What are you still doing here?”

You feel yourself swaying a bit, or maybe everything around you is swaying. You hope your face and eyes aren’t too obviously red. Everything is lagging.

“Um, yeah. I’m just–” You point your thumb sideways at Schlatt, looking at him stare you down worryingly. “Getting extra help from him–uh Schlatt–Mr. Schlatt.” He nods his head not fully convinced.

“Well, that's great to hear. Just get home safe.” He pats Schlatt’s back and continues down the hall.

Schlatt glares down at you, shoulders tense. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he mouths as you both walk the opposite way towards the entrance.

“Good thing he doesn't give a shit about any of us.” Schlatt ignores you, speed walking to his car, an old, blue toyota corolla. “Probably wouldn't even cross his mind to think you’re on some weird predatory shit.”

He pushes you up against the passenger side of his car, leaning his body into yours, trapping you. “You don’t seem to mind.” You stare at his lips, wishing for a kiss.

“No, duh! I’m getting what I want.” He grabs your cheeks with his hand, smirking at your eyes widen. He moves your head back and forth and you follow, with no fight. You’re so willing to let him move you around and touch you. No matter how embarrassing it looks.

You both forgot where you still are.

“You wanna be my bitch?” You nod your head, your heart beating in your ear and your stomach falling deeper into a bottomless pit. He lets your head go. “That’s so pathetic.” Schlatt pushes you, walking around his car to the driver's seat and getting in without another word. You gulp, looking around at a thankfully empty parking lot, and quickly join.

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