#v:student

[first-son-of-finwe]

Professor™

Send ™ and my muse will do a poor imitation of yours

“I’m Mairon and I’m here to spank you raw for a made-up crime because I just love seeing your butt all red and bruised. Kneel before me and obey my every command, or I’ll put a stick even further up your ass than the one I permanently have in mine.”

[first-son-of-finwe]

“Rumour has it you're being fucked by your professor.”

Send “Rumour has it…” and a rumour about my muse in my ask! 

“Rumour has it you should keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

[first-son-of-finwe]

👗

Send me 👗 to see my muse wearing a dress 

Fëanoreyed himself in the mirror with a smile, running his hands over his newly narrowed waist and letting them come to rest on his hips. The corset did wonders for his shape, and though his arms were still larger than the average woman’s, he did manage to look very feminine nonetheless. The skirt barely protected any of his modesty, though that was very much part of the appeal.

“You were right,” he mused, giving his professor an appreciative look through the mirror.

“I do look good...”

[first-son-of-finwe]

‘Did you just lick me?’ {professor verse?}

“Yup,” he grinned, winding his arms around Mairon’s neck from behind and nuzzling at his jaw with his nose. He was in a playful mood, and he did always enjoy trying to rile the other up.

“Ever hear the phrase ‘I licked it so it’s mine’? Well, you’re mine.”

[first-son-of-finwe]

-hums appreciatively and sends a message back- Trying to tell me something?

[text] ….I was trying to send you photos of the class schedule

[text] but sure..!!

[text] I think life is trying to tell us both something

[text] namely, stop working and go fuck

[first-son-of-finwe]

"Look at me while I’m talking to you!"

send me “look at me while I’m talking to you” for a starter with your muse scolding mine for something they did, and my muse avoiding confrontation

Fëanor stubbornly continued to tap out a message on his phone, not looking up or acknowledging the command. What was the point? He knew what he’d done, and yes, it was stupid…but it was his mistake to make. And the way that thing had knocked him out, he wasn’t even sure if it was a mistake at all. It was the most effective sleep he’d had for days.

“I’m fine, alright?” he said sluggishly, rubbing his temple. “Just…stop fretting. You’re getting all wound up over nothing.”

[first-son-of-finwe]

☎

Send in ☎ for my character's reaction to getting phone sex from yours

Fëanor smirked when he saw the name that came up on his ringing phone, sliding off his bed to firmly close his bedroom door before answering. He didn’t want either of his brothers to hear this conversation, and he most definitely didn’t want his father listening either.

Once the door was suitably well locked, he swiped across the screen to answer the call and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Good evening, professor,” he said with a playful lilt, leaning against his closed door.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

@lieutenant-of-darkness

[first-son-of-finwe]

"Don't you know who I am?!"

Your muse just found mine after being missing, but with severe amnesia, send “Don’t you know who I am?!” For my muse’s reaction. 

Fëanor’s memory patterns made no sense whatsoever, at least not to him. The doctors all whispered away about retrograde amnesia, though he had no idea what that specifically meant for him, and why his brain was acting in such a weird and unpredictable way.

He couldn’t remember his own name, but when the doctors asked him to sign something, he scribbled down his signature without a second thought. He didn’t recognise the two young men who had introduced themselves as his brothers, but then inadvertently mentioned the family dog. Worst of all, he didn’t even recognise his own father.

The only person he could remember completely clearly was his mother. He knew her name and he knew exactly what she looked like, though she hadn’t visited him yet, which he thought was odd. The doctors seemed to avoid the topic every time he asked, and his father had been of no help either.

Unfortunately, he didn’t recognise the redhead who stood before him now either. He seemed to be reacting quite incredulously, so he figured they must have known each other fairly well.

“No,” he responded heavily with a shake of his head. “But don’t take it personally. I can’t tell my ass from my elbow these days...” He looked up at his visitor and carefully studied his face and features, and couldn’t help raising an appreciative brow.

“I’m hoping you’re my boyfriend,” he quipped with a slight smile. “And not some distant uncle or cousin. Oh please, tell me you’re my boyfriend.”