Paring: Cate Blanchett x fem reader
Warnings: professor student relationship, slight smut, masterbation, dom/sub undertone, dirty talk
(Sorry for the long wait I have been caught up with my personal and academic life lately🥺I know I’ve been a complete ass making people wait for so long. I’m so sorry)
*not my edits*
The day has been long.
There’s a clock in your bedroom. An old fashioned one, and you could hear the second hand ticking in your room: time passes in the unit of a second at a time, and you are so aware of every second that has passed.
It is painful, really. You try to focus on the reading for your psychology class, but there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, as if something is suspended in the air, waiting to fall.
To fall. Like gravity, so natural and irresistible. That is how you feel right now as you sigh and look at your planner for the third time in the past hour, a scheduled appointment for office hours with a professor, the professor…...highlighted in yellow, like the color of the sunlight that is now resting outside of your window.
And so you are thinking about her again. The other day when she was explaining the literary devices that Ovid used to show the depth of love. Love, when the word falls out of her mouth you can’t help but tremble. You take in a deep breath as you wander around the meeting link on the canvas site. There’s still 10 minutes before the scheduled time. Even though she has always said in the lecture that anyone’s welcomed to join the meeting room, you decide to wait. The amount of hesitation and a mix of other feelings pumping in your heart scares you. You hate to use the word love lightly, but what other word could you use to describe that feeling that’s dancing in your chest right now? that hopeless attraction, that constant longing you have for her? When you’ve barely even talked to her, you’ve fallen for her. You feel utterly alone, slightly ashamed, and immensely terrified.
You curse under your breath as your eyes refocus on the screen, dragging yourself back from your thoughts, you’re almost late. And so you click on the link, your body tense and your teeth biting your lower lips nervously as you enter the waiting room.
“Well Hello, so how are you doing today?”
She greets you with a smile, her voice reaffirms her presence and makes your heart miss a beat. She’s wearing a white shirt, the first three buttons casually opened, elongating her elegant neck, exposing her delicate collar bones...and the a peek of her cleavage that makes your cheeks burn. Yet you can’t take your eyes off, a silver necklace draping from her neck down to inside her shirt...almost luring you.
“Can you hear me alright?”
She spoke again, and you’re embarrassed by your lost focus...on her. It still feels slightly unreal that she’s addressing you—you’ve gotten used to not answering her questions, as you know someone else always will.
“I’m sorry...yes I can hear you. I’m doing good.” You open your mouth to realize that your voice is a little raspy from not talking all day.
She is looking slightly tired but genuine and kind as usual, staring into the camera with a satisfied smile as she nods to your answer. You can hear her clicking as you both fell silent. You try to focus on the presence of her so as to stop your thoughts from running into wild places, but that seems to do the opposite job.
“So I see you’ve got a 90.5 on your last essay, which isn’t bad at all.” She said with a keen smile as she praises you, which soon turned into a look of curiosity as she raises her eyebrows, “with such a grade you’re not required to come see me, but you still choose to. I wonder if you have any specific questions for me?”
“Oh…” no, you don’t really have any, but you look down on your notes for things you’ve prepared for this meeting, “I just wonder if you have any suggestions for my writing, you know, where can I improve, because I’d like to get a better grade for that upcoming essay.”
“Hmmm..understood.” She nods again, and you can see her eyes quickly scanning through your essay as she speaks.
And her left hand, that was supporting her chin, is now resting on her left cheek. And—an observation that scorched your cheeks—her fingers are now unconsciously touching her own lips...in a most casual, most usual but also insanely sensual way.
“Will you give me a minute? I’d like to inspect your words more closely so I can give you better suggestions.” She lifted her eyes to look at the camera with a subtle grin.
“Oh sure. I’m in no rush.”
Her fingers returned to her lips after she’s done talking. long, beautiful fingers that you have dreamed and thought about. You’ve imagined them on your face, on your hand, on your body...in your body...without realizing how bold a move you’re making, you feel your own touch on your thighs, moving closer and closer to the center before you find yourself messaging your desire, already aroused, over the thin fabric of your panties.
You gasp at the pleasure, a silent one, and then a louder one. You look into the screen to see her now flipping through a book on her desk, (Metamorphosis, you suppose, as that’s what your essay was about), feeling more daring and slipped a sweaty hand into your pantie.
You’re wetter than you expected, providing an easy entrance for your own finger. Your breath gets heavier and heavier with your slow thrusts, trying to maintain your posture until a soft moan slips from your lips.
She’s still intensely focused on the book, and so you gathered the courage and whispered her name, “Cate….”
“Cate...Cate…..” you say to yourself, words muffled with your now loud moans, which is not getting more and more intense as you get closer to the climax——
“Okay I think I’m done here,” she looks up to you, her sudden words scaring you, ruining your orgasm and now your pussy is pathetically wet, and exposed in the air.
She doesn’t seem to expect your response as she proceeds to give you a few suggestions about your writing. She praises your interesting perspectives, and points out a few flaws in your analysis, raising some other questions regarding the texts. As always, she seems to be most genuinely interested in your work, analyzing it as if it’s the work of Ovid himself. Her voice is incredibly captivating to you, and to your swollen desire, but her highly professional manner turns you on even more——the thought of you being naked with your ugly desire, almost dripping in such an academic discussion...how sinful, how humiliating, how dangerously attractive.
“Now would you mind sharing with me the passage you’ve chosen for the upcoming essay? The Shakespeare one.”
“Oh yes. Of course.” You nod, looking down to your notes to avoid looking at those eyes, and looking at your own picture on the screen. You could imagine yourself right now, cheeks red and sweat on your forehead, how weird she must have thought of you to be.
“I’ve chosen the passage in the Midsummer Night’s Dream. Helena’s confession and pursuit of Demetrius. I find that speech of her quite touching...the devotion of putting oneself in such a lowly place, almost an act of submission, but also an act of great courage, to go against societal norms…”
You pause yourself there to look up at her, she’s nodding and smiling as always, but in her eyes, you see almost a tint of a fleeting, mischievous smirk? you must have made a mistake. And you must have been illusioned by your heating desire, so you shake your thoughts and continued: “it’s this passage,
‘Use me but as your spaniel—spurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me. Only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love—
And yet a place of high respect with me—
Than to be used as you use your dog?’”
Finishing off, you look up again, and you feel yourself shaking.
Silence. And you think you see that mischievous smile in her eyes grow stronger. You’re almost certain, yes there’s definitely something behind those eyes. Those eyes that shine with kindness and professionalism, sparkle with interests and curiosity...there must be something behind those eyes.
And now they’re staring at you.
“Professor?” You feel unease, breaking the long silence that felt like forever.
“Is that for your essay or is that for me?”
Your heart either stopped beating or was beating at an unnatural rate, you opened your mouth to find yourself stuttering, “I...this...the essay...sorry?”
She did not respond, but her eyes now burning with a wanton look.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Your voice is shaking.
“Oh yes you do.” She says, stopping the screen share of your essay so that you could see her and only her——eyes filled with mysterious lust, a smirk emerged on her face.
“You thought you muted yourself, didn’t you? Or did you think those filthy little noises that your pretty mouth was making could escape my ear? But I’ve heard them all, even those wet noises coming not from your mouth but from somewhere else. And did you think I didn’t notice you, looking like you’re having too much fun biting your lips with watery eyes in my lectures?”
Her stare was intense, burning you to the ground, to your knees, stripping you bare and making all your attempts to act decent seem useless and pathetic.
“You are quite a daring one, but a bashful one at the same time. How interesting.”
“‘To be used as you use your dog’...now look up and answer this: is that what you want from me?”
(To be continued.)
