Request for a fic. Everyone is joking about professor Sam in Barbour. Could you write a professor Jamie story. Claire is a student but Older and more intriguing than all the young giggling co-eds
…In the meantime, I had this anon ask sitting on my
inbox for some months now – and I’d hate to let this fantasy go unattended!
Those girls were ridiculous, Claire thought.
Madly fluttering their eyelashes as if a constant influx of dust was getting
into their eyes and always bending over, using the pretence of catching a
fallen pen or pencil, only to expose their cleavage. Claire felt she was inside
a documentary on the mating rituals of college girls and, even if slightly
amusing, it also disturbed her in an irrational way.
Health Management was an extra class for her –
a way to get a couple more credits that would speed up her academic course. She
was already almost ten years the senior when compared to the other students
attending Medical School – her years as a nurse had given her a lot of useful
resources, but also made her feel she was constantly battling time. It was an
interesting class, that mixed concepts of health and economics, to ensure the
future doctors based their decisions in cost-effectiveness. In spite of being
well taught and useful, whispering was a constant background noise – clearly
the result of female hormones going rampant. The problem was not the subject,
Claire knew – was the man leading the class.
Professor Fraser was young and remarkably
handsome – his Scottish accent and deep voice, combined with astonishing blue
eyes, which he hid behind black rimmed glasses, inspired great admiration
amongst the women in the classroom. The fact that the class functioned at all
was a testament to Fraser’s capacity of using leadership skills and imposing
A couple of girls next to her giggled and
Claire distinctively heard one of them, a blonde bombshell that undoubtedly
belonged in a house named after a Greek alphabet letter, saying “I would slide my hand bellow his kilt
Pursing her lips and rolling her eyes, Claire
continued to sketch with her sharp pencil in the back of her notebook,
struggling to focus again on the contents of the class. The shade in the
external corner wasn’t quite right, she noticed, furrowing her brows in
“Am I boring ye, Miss Beauchamp?” She heard a
voice demanding her attention. Claire looked up and noticed all faces turned to
her, clearly awaiting her reaction to being caught distracted. James Fraser
stood next to the board with his arms crossed, his lips forming a half smile,
expecting her answer.
Yes. “No, Professor Fraser.” She replied
in a casual tone. “I was just taking notes and got distracted. May you repeat
the question, please?”
“I see.” He said in a serious – disappointed? –
tone. “Anyone knows the answer? Miss MacKenzie?”
“Replacing the blood gas machine would be the
best measure.” Laoghaire MacKenzie glowed like a lit candle - marvelled that
for once she had managed to upstage Claire and gain Professor Fraser’s
attentions - offering a victorious look through the corner of her eye, which
Claire blatantly ignored.
“That is correct.” He nodded, raising a brow in
Claire’s direction. “I’d recommend that ye pay more attention to the class,
“I bloody would if it wasn’t for your fan
club.” Claire complained in a low voice, after he had resumed the class.
As the class ended – students rushing to the
door to get to the refectory in time for lunch, talking about a hot party later
that week -, Claire assembled her notebooks and pencil, storing them inside her
green rucksack – made of what looked like army green fabric with a painted red
cross, akin to something a doctor would wear during the Second World War.
“May I talk to you, Miss Beauchamp?” Professor
Fraser asked politely, as she walked down the stairs in direction of the door.
The room was almost deserted, only a couple of latecomers remained inside,
struggling with coats and piles of books.
“Of course, Professor.” Claire stared at him,
“Ye were distracted today.” He pointed, closing
the book he had used to prepare the current subject. “Is something bothering
“No.” She firmly replied, her eyes downcast.
“I’m sure I can’t be the first student you caught daydreaming. Why are you
making such a big deal about it?”
Jamie gave her a concerned look, his blue eyes
wrinkling in the corners. He was sporting a small stubble, that combined with
his impeccable plaid shirt, gave him a look of casual handsomeness.
“Ye are one of the best students in the class.”
He said slowly, neatly placing his books inside his own bag. “I wouldna like ye
to squander yer potential. If something is disturbing ye, I’d like to help ye
if I can, that’s all.”
“It’s fine.” She insisted in a harsher voice,
her hands slightly trembling. “I don’t really need another man to tell me I’m not good enough and can’t handle things. Because
I am quite capable!”
“I’m not saying ye aren’t, Miss Beauchamp.” He
pointed patiently, glaring at her increasingly red face. “In fact, I think I
just said quite the opposite.”
“I can’t focus because all the girls around me
are acting like crazy hens, cackling over you!” She accused in a mordant voice,
going completely berserk despite her best rational alarms going off in the
outskirts of her brain. “I’m here to study – I have so much to learn still and
my age will hurt me in spite of how good I keep proving myself again and again –
and all they can think is to shag the teacher!”
“Ye’re crossing the line, Claire.” Jamie
warned, his voice now low and dangerous. “I might be younger than ye – just a
few years, really - but ye’re not exactly old enough to convince me ye’re getting senile by acting out and being
disrespectful. I am the teacher here.”
you should bloody act like it!” Claire growled, the hammer of anger – and jealousy?
– pounding against her ribs. “Stop being so nice and attentive, because you’re
clearly giving the wrong message!”
“What?!” His mouth was ajar, the pulse on his
temple throbbing in anger. He practically tore his glasses away from his face,
discarding them on the table with a dry sound. “I never made any advances on
one of my students. The mere suggestion my behaviour is borderline unethical is
a verra serious one, Miss Beauchamp. It can get me suspended if anyone in the
faculty board hears it.”
“I’m sorry.” She hissed, fidgeting with the
closing mechanism of her rucksack. “But you have to recognize that you are
young and…handsome.” Claire swallowed her, her voice strangled. “You can pass
the wrong impression just from breathing.”
“Maybe ye should drop this class.” Jamie suggested,
slightly turning away from her in order to shield his face from her sight. “I
can ask Professor Raymond’s permission for you to assist his Alternative
Medicine class. It will give ye the same credits as mine.”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Maybe I should.”
They stood there, facing each other, their eyes battling when words had failed
“Claire.” He asked, his voice ragged but
softer, warmer. “Who told you ye werena enough?”
“My husband.” She avoided his eyes, twisting
her lips in a grimace. “Ex-husband. He
was a teacher too. Thought I couldn’t handle becoming a doctor – I should
settle to what I already was. He was very vocal about it. That’s why we
“He was wrong.” Jamie said softly, but firmly.
His eyes were all shades of blue – stormless skies, bottomless oceans, rare
wild flowers, starry nights, infinite horizons. “I hope ye ken that. Because I
“Oh.” Claire babbled, feeling utterly
ridiculous after her outburst. He had his long-fingered hands placed on the
desk between them – in her eyes they seemed made to lovingly caress a female
body, to demand responses with brutal kindness, to hold a smaller hand that
could fit perfectly. “Thank you.”
“It has been a pleasure teaching you, Claire.”
He said quietly. “You have a lively mind and a sharp wit. They’ll serve ye
well. Yer age won’t hinder ye, lass – it only makes ye that more intriguing and
“I’m sorry.” She gave him a weak blushing smile,
reinforced by the way he responded with a small grin. “I can be quite…rebellious, when my heels are being
“I have witnessed it first-hand.” He laughed,
brushing his copper hair in a display of nervousness. “Ye seem to have
forgotten one of yer wee notebooks.” And, without waiting for her answer, strode
to the place where she had been sitting, collecting her pad.
She knew he would see it – she had been working
on it for most of the class and had left it open as she hurried to leave. It was
a rough drawing of a blue eye, with a familiar catlike shape – framing it was a
verse from her favourite poem in her stylized hand, “Da mi basia mille”.
He completed, caressing the sheet with his fingertips. “If ye’re not my student
anymore,” He said in a hoarse voice, turning to look at her with a burst of hope
in his eyes. “I’m finally free to ask ye out on a date, as I’ve wanted since
the day I first saw ye sitting on my class.”
Tries to work out where, precisely, that suggestion came from- Since he certainly hadn’t meant to offer his teaching services today.
Molly’s blinking up at him, her expression startled. His heart is thudding rather loudly in his chest- So loud that he feels an odd terror she’ll be able to hear it. That she’ll be able to tell that, whatever his attempts at nonchalance, his last offer was far from casual. The urge to babble under her gaze is becoming almost overwhelming but he tamps it down, makes himself look at her-
When he speaks next, his voice is surprisingly even.
I had no choice, really. If you missed it, here is part I.
The Teacher II
Claire hesitated in front of the door, the incrusted
bronze plate shining with the letters “Professor
Fraser”, beckoning her to dare and knock. She breathed deeply and raised
her fist to announce her presence.
“Yes?” A voice answered inside, in a lilt that
made her stomach explode in a frenzy of millions of bubbles. She half-opened
the door in order to peek inside, realizing that he was accompanied by a
student, sitting in front of him in what could only be called “the hot seat”. “Ah, it’s ye Miss
“Sorry to disturb you, Professor Fraser.” She
said in a respectful tone, watching as her colleague – another Health Management
student - looked at her with a cry for help in his brown eyes – slightly hazed from
too much weed -, his shoulders slumped in mortal shame. “I have some questions
about the essay I still have to write for your class. I was wondering if I
could go over them with you, sir.”
James Fraser gave her an uninterested look –
which could clearly be interpreted as annoyance with her presence – and finally
“I’ll be with you presently, Miss Beauchamp.”
He said dryly. ”As soon as Mister King here understands that copying a page
from Wikipedia is not acceptable as an essay. You do realize I have access to
the Internet, Mister King?” His eyebrows were raised above the rim of his black
eyeglasses, enhancing his disappointment at his student poorly conducted machinations.
“Yes, Professor Fraser.” The boy furiously
nodded, a sinner in repentance, his neck slowly disappearing between his
shoulders as he tried to bury himself away, escaping those piercing blue eyes. “I
am very sorry, sir.”
“I’m sure ye are.” The teacher gave him a lopsided
smile, neatly pilling the sheets of paper crossed out in red ink and pushing
them in his direction. “You have until tomorrow to deliver a corrected version
of this paper, Mister King. I’ll have to grade it for a maximum “B” after this mischief, but it’s certainly better than the
current “D” – from disaster.”
He pursed his lips and waited patiently as the
student collected his belongings and made the walk of shame towards the door of
his office. Claire could barely contain a smile as her colleague grimaced to
her, rolling his eyes in despair, his back turned to the punishing master.
“Come in, Miss Beauchamp.” Professor Fraser
urged her and, quickly patting Arthur King’s back in comfort, Claire moved
inside the office and closed the door behind her. “How can I help ye?” He asked
in a dark tone.
He looked serious and poised, his forearms
resting on the mahogany table in front of him. His office was clean and
discrete, fairly organized with stacks of paper and folders thoroughly aligned
and labelled. He had a shelf filled with books behind him, silently complaining
with copious overweight – Claire recognized titles from classic economy books
but also lots of poetry and historical tomes. Over the years – both in nursing
school and now as medical student –, she had been inside many teacher’s offices.
There was a tendency for hoarding and to accumulate trinkets and photographs,
as they spent so much time working inside them.
However, Jamie’s office spoke of order and contention, only a photograph
of himself with a dark haired woman – the same blue slanted eyes smiling to the
photographer, betraying their kinship – and a small statue of a leaping stag.
“I was wondering if you could explain me again
some concepts.” Claire said in strong voice, locking the door from the inside and
slowly moving towards his desk. “I’m not sure I’m truly enlighten about them –
in spite of our class yesterday.”
“Do ye now?” Jamie quirked a brow, his voice
low and dangerous. “I thought I was fairly clear.” He rose from his chair and
came around the desk, nearing her like a graceful predator.
“Some things benefit from repetition.” She
licked her lips and, smiling widely, sat on his desk – her floral dress hiking
up as she went, exposing her fair legs to his eyes, soft and creamy.
His mask of tight control fell – exposing his raw edges underneath it. He
moaned and strode towards her in a heartbeat, placing himself between her
parted thighs, his mouth punishing hers for the teasing, his hands grasping her
curly hair. “I just had ye yesterday, but I want ye so much it hurts already.”
“I want you too.” She panted, as he touched her
breast with his strong palm, her nipple already painfully aware of his
proximity. “I couldn’t help myself – I had to come. I had to see you, to feel
“When I saw ye standing at my door, I almost
lost it.” He groaned, his hands brushing the soft skin inside her thighs, as he
kissed and suckled her neck. “And ye – wearing this dress, ye wicked little
vixen. I thought I’d throw ye into my desk and take ye, there and then, right in
front of Mister King.”
“You’re a very good actor.” She laughed, her
hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants. “I could swear you didn’t even
like me – least of all wanted to shag me in your office.” Claire yelped as he
kneeled in front of her and bit the sensitive skin, moist and heated from his
“This is madness.” He nuzzled her, his hands
gripping her arse to bring her closer to him. “If we behave like uncontrolled
teenagers someone will find out. We need to stop seeing each other here.”
A month before they had started seeing each
other – meeting for dinner away from campus and taking long walks on secluded
parks and on the coastline, where they could hold hands and kiss, languid and carefree.
The underlying attraction had been there from the start, they were forced to
admit – and their mutual feelings had bloomed into full spring, nurtured by
hours of solitude and touches. At first the idea of sneaking around was fun and
certainly arousing – but soon enough the burden of pretending indifference had
become a permanent struggle and a source of unhappiness.
“You can stop.” Claire suggested teasingly, her
lips tasting the hollow of his throat – skilfully undoing the first buttons of
his shirt – the pulse of desire emanating from his skin. “I won’t force you, I
“I canna refuse ye.” He said in a hoarse voice,
his accent made more evident by lust and strong emotion, as she struggled to
free him from the constraining underwear. “Not today – nor ever, mo ghraidh.”
He played her like a violin – robbing her lips
of moans and sobs that echoed in his heart like notes of the purest music, his
eyes fixed on the way her beautiful face almost shattered, so close to be
undone. Jamie touched her until his own body hurt – a desire so powerful it
bordered on excruciating pain -, finally ready to take her. As he adjusted his
body to hers, her head lulled back as she surrendered to the eminent joining, a
knock on the door sounded – menacing and real, like a sudden tear on active muscle.
Their eyes locked in terror for a moment, their
bodies almost fused together, their breathing ragged and superficial.
“Who is it?” Jamie questioned, struggling to
compose his voice. He kissed her swollen lips one final – desperate – time and
pulled her out of the desk, quickly helping her to adjust her clothes.
“Fraser?” The voice of Professor Raymond came
from outside. “I need to discuss with you the program for the summit. May I
bas!” Jamie cursed, gritting his teeth. “Just a second!” He shouted through
the door, composing his own clothes and brushing his hair with trembling
fingers. Like two actors in a comical play, Claire launched herself into the
chair, searching for her best concentrated and slightly bored look, as Jamie
hurried to adjust the crumpled papers on his desk. When everything seemed to be
in natural order, they nodded to each other and Jamie opened the door with a
pleasant smile plastered on his lips.
“Ah.” The little man, with silver hair and dark
all-knowing eyes, noticed Claire sitting like a student in best possible behaviour.
“I hadn’t realize you were busy, James.”
“Miss Beauchamp and I were merely discussing
her last paper.” Jamie explained, adjusting his glasses. “She had already started
it before she transferred to your class.”
“No doubt.” Professor Raymond smiled, clearly
amused. His eyes drifted through the room – in spite of their best efforts,
Claire’s lips were clearly swollen and her hair even more unruly than usual.
Jamie, although composed, had the look of a man battling a cramp in the belly –
his eyes wild and fiery, his smile a bit too tense. “I’m sorry if I interrupted
“That’s alright, Professor.” Claire raised from
her chair and headed to the door, her neck still flushed. “I think I have
everything I need for now. Thank you, Professor Fraser. I’ll be sure to deliver
my complete work later.”
Both men stared as she waved and disappeared,
closing the door behind her.
“Your fly is open, James.” Raymond warned him
in an amiable tone and laughed like a content toad, to Jamie’s utter dismay.
“Have you asked for me, Professor Mackenzie?”
Jamie announced himself, standing on the threshold of Colum MacKenzie’s - the
dean of faculty - office.
“Ah, James – yes.” Colum’s calculative gaze
turned to Jamie, as he invited him to sit with a brief hand gesture. He was
silent for a while, studying Jamie’s cordial face, his hands entwined in
thoughtfulness. “I asked ye here because a pressing matter has been brought to
my attention.” He finally said, leaning back against his leather covered office
“How may I help?” Jamie furrowed his copper
“Ye can stop seeing Claire Beauchamp.” Colum
said in a cutting voice, which froze Jamie’s insides – was he fishing for the
truth, expecting him to confirm his suspicions; or did someone actually see him
with Claire? He was certain Raymond knew after their encounter in his office,
but was confident the man wouldn’t tell a soul due to their friendship.
“That is hardly possible.” Jamie smiled, trying
to look relaxed and uncompromised. “She attends this school and I am a teacher here.”
“I was wondering if I had to remind ye of that
exact fact.” Colum admonished, harshly. “Someone informed me that you have been
involved in some kind of affair with the lass. I couldna believe it. That a
teacher – my nephew, no less – would be sae foolish and careless.”
“Who told ye that?” Jamie gripped his fist,
hidden bellow the desk, barely containing the anger in his voice.
“It doesna matter.” Colum shook his head, his
eyes demanding and judgemental. “Will you deny it, Jamie?”
Jamie endured the assault of his eyes, his own
stormy and strong. Eventually, he sighed and shrugged.
“No, I won’t deny it. I’m in love with Claire
and I’m dating her.” He confessed, tilting his chin in defiance. Colum hissed
like a harassed animal and pursed his lips in discontent. “I’m a professor here
but she isna my student – we only got involved when she quit my class. Nothing
happened before!” Jamie guaranteed, tapping his fingers on his leg.
“I had hope the girl was lying.” Colum brushed
his thinning hair. “How could ye be sae stupid? How could ye overlook what
screwing the lass would mean to this school?”
“What we have,” Jamie hissed, adamant. “Is much
more than screwing, uncle. Claire is
the woman I waited for all my life. I won’t forsake her – not even for yer
“I see.” Colum breathed through his nose, like
a resentful cat. His eyes searched Jamie’s, as they battle their unwavering
wills. “In that case ye have a decision to make – let go of the lass or yer
days of teaching are numbered.” And with a magnanimous nod of the head, he dismissed
him. “Professor Fraser.”
OQ: "Sorry, but, um... am I the only one confused here? Why hasn't anyone else showed up?"
Set in the Hot for Teacher verse
She frowned as she stepped in through the door, wondering if she’d read his text wrong and gotten the wrong day but then…why was the door unlocked at all if the place was as closed as it looked.
There was not a soul inside and only the light from the jukebox and behind the bar illuminated the space. It was as she moved to pull her phone from her purse and actually check the message he’d sent to her that morning did Robin appear at all.
“You’re here,” he grinned, stealing a soft kiss as soon as he reached her before pulling back to look at her, his palms stroking softly up and down her arms.
“Sorry, but, um,” she laughed, completely perplexed by the fact that he clearly knew something that she didn’t, “am I the only one confused here?”
His head tilted, his smile remaining even as he frowned amusedly down at her, “What do you mean?”
Her frown only depended as she looked from him, to the empty bar and back again. “Why am I the only one here?” she felt a little foolish in her cocktail dress and heels, “you said there was a party.”
“There is,” he confirmed, a grin curling his lips as he slid his hand down to her own to tangle their fingers and tug her towards the pass through to the bar, merely smiling back at her complete and utter look of confusion before coming to a stop in front of the panel of light switches. “A party for two.”
He flicked two switches up and nodded towards the centre of the room, his fingers squeezing her own when she turned and gasped at what she saw.
Gone were the tens of dozens of tables and chairs that usually covered the main seating area and instead a lone table with two chairs had been placed in the middle of the room. A white tablecloth had been smoothed over the surface with a red rose displayed in a clear glass vase in the middle of the table. There were petals spread around the floor and the lights had been dimmed purposefully with a thick shade.
“Wha-” she breathed, shaking her head as she turned to look at him, “I don’t understand.”
He merely shrugged in response, as though it was nothing. “I wanted to spend the night with my girlfriend,” he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back and telling her, “so I made sure that could happen.”
“What about your customers though? What about the staff?”
“They understood,” he responded, slipping his fingers from hers and turning her around with hands on her hips that proceeded to encourage her forward as her whispered, “are you surprised?”
“Definitely,” she laughed, still trying to understand the magnitude of what he’d done for her. Losing a full night’s custom just to have dinner with her.
“And are you charmed?”
“Sufficiently,” she grinned, reaching both hands back to lace their fingers once more as they did an awkward sort of shuffle towards the table, neither wanting to break contact for even a moment.
“You look absolutely stunning, by the way,,” he whispered into her ear, nudging a lock of hair out of the way to nibble playfully at her earlobe before moving from behind her to pull out her chair from the table, grinning as he raked his eyes over her body.
She’d worn it with him in mind, of course. It wasn’t a new purchase, she’d bought it over a year ago but never had the guts to wear it. She hadn’t had the guts to do a lot of things before she’d met Robin. It was a dark red leather number that clung to her curves and stopped just below her knees, it’s capped sleeves showcasing the shape of her arms rather nicely. It made her feel sexy.
No, she thought as she walked towards Robin, his gaze still moving over her as he bit his bottom lip, he made her feel sexy.
“Thank you,” she replied coyly, making sure to slip between him and the chair before she sat, laughing when he groaned and murmured something unintelligible to himself as he made sure she was comfortable before moving around the table to sit opposite her. She’d never known someone make her feel so special before and only recently had she begun to allow herself to embrace and to enjoy it. “You clean up nicely yourself.”
His dimples dented his cheeks beautifully as he grinned and thanked her. He really did look good though in his dark shirt and jeans, his hair combed by something other than his fingers and his beard a little scruffy, just the way she liked it.
“So,” she breathed, her smile widening when he opened his palm out and looked at her pointedly because how dare she keep her hand from his own for so long. “What brought all of this on?”
He shrugged, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a tender kiss there before turning it over and kissing her wrist. He knew she loved that. “I wanted to spend some time with you.”
She chuckled as she pointed out, “There are other bars and restaurants.”
“I know,” he responded with his own laugh, covering both of their hands with his other and dropping his gaze to them as he confessed rather shyly, “but this place is my home and…well,” he shrugged again, “so are you.”
Her lips parted softly, breath catching in her throat as his words sunk in. It took only a moment before she was on her feet and making her way around to him.
He looked up, jarred by the loss of her hand and a little startled by it. He had barely a moment to react however for she dropped herself onto his knee and took his mouth in a deep kiss that expressed what mere words couldn’t. His response was eager yet wonderfully passionate as he flattened his palms upon her back and pulled her tighter against him.
She felt as though she were floating on air as she took and took and took from him. Only her smile breaking their kiss at the seams for she couldn’t contain it. “Do you really mean that?” she whispered breathlessly, her forehead against his own and hands on his cheeks.
“Of course I do,” he replied easily.
She bit her lip, trying to contain her smile before she pulled his lips back to her own and took a few minutes to just enjoy the feeling.
Prompt: Hot for Teacher verse. Late night convo because one of them can't sleep. Lots of fluff :)
A little angsty fluff
He traced the line of her nose, up and across her brow with a featherlight touch that had her eyes blinking closed slowly, lids too heavy to remain open. He smiled, knowing that she wasn’t yet asleep but would soon be if he continued. Nights like this weren’t exactly common but there had been enough for him to understand what she needed.
He’d been expecting this though, with the anniversary of her father’s death so close.
Their bags were packed and ready, Roland’s too, for the coming trip to Henry Sr’s lake house - he’d left it to Regina, amongst other things, in his will - it was the first time she’d be visiting her homeland since his death and he knew she was both excited for it and dreading it at the same time.
“He wants to learn how to build a fire and roast s'mores over the flames,” he whispered gently, moving those fingers up over her temple to trace her hairline as he watched her furrowed brow slowly smoothing as she listened and allowed him to lull her into something close to sleep. “He wants to hunt for fairies and trolls in the surrounding woods and make sure that his Queen is safe in her castle.”
She smiled at that, a gentle warming thing that he traced with his eyes. “My little knight.”
He shifted a little closer, enough to bend the arm that she was resting her head upon to stroke his other fingers over her back as he continued to trace her beautiful features. “He wants to practice his swimming in the lake and meet the neighbours and he cannot wait to spend the summer with his Regina and learn all about her Papa and their favourite place to play.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly, brow creasing momentarily as a tear slipped from her eye and trailed over the bridge of her nose. “I’d like that,” she whispered after a long moment, voice a little shaky as she nuzzled closer to him and curled her fingers over his side.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, lips brushing the smooth skin as he promised, “You’ll get through this, my love.”
She nodded as best she could without jostling him. Her sigh was deep and shuddered when she asked, “Talk until I fall asleep?”
As per your request ;) I apologize for how long this has taken me! Life got crazy haha. I feel like the first part of this series got so much positive feedback that I’m slightly terrified that this one won’t meet your expectations…..eek.
Warnings: Smut (daddy kink, teacher, kink…shit like that) Word Count: 2,885
You sat in your desk, squirming frantically and doing anything you could to keep yourself from looking over at Mr. Lahey’s desk. He wasn’t in the classroom yet and you still didn’t know how you were going to face him. Every time your eyes drifted over to his desk, the image of him fucking you senseless popped into your head. You clenched your thighs together, desperately trying to ignore the dampness that started to form between them at the memory. You figured that he would be be good but you never dreamed of him being that good. He had you seeing stars and you were sure no guy you had ever been with had made you cum that many times in such a short amount of time. You had only been with two other guys and neither of them had anything on Mr. Lahey.
Your heart caught in your throat when he walked into the classroom, greeting all of you. The dark gray button down shirt and khakis he was wearing immediately got your attention. He had the shirt rolled up to the elbows and just like every other shirt he owned, it was tight against his muscular body. You didn’t think his ass could look any better but the khakis he was wearing proved you wrong. He was clean shaven today and his hair was still a tousle mess but you didn’t mind. Damn, why did he always have to look so…fuckable?
He avoided your gaze most of the class period but you expected that. However, it didn’t stop your wandering thoughts. It was difficult to look at him normally now. You knew what his dick looked like, for Godsakes. Not to mention you know knew what his moans sounded like and what his face looked like when he reached climax. You also knew that he was a kinky son of a bitch, getting off on being called daddy and spanking you with a belt. All of these thoughts had you shaking with desire, the fire in the pit of your stomach only increasing. There were a few times where he caught your eye and you saw him swallow thickly, clearly having the same thoughts that you were. You weren’t dressed as proactively today as you were yesterday but you still caught his eyes trailing your body every once in a while.
It seemed like class took forever to end but once the bell rang, you breathed a sigh of relief. You were suffocating and so unbelievably turned on that you didn’t know how long you were going to be able to sit there before you exploded. You waited until the door closed behind the last student to leave before you approached him. He had to know that you were there but he made himself seem interested in the school work he was reading. You slid behind his desk, sitting on top of the corner of it.
“Are you up for round 2?” You teased, somewhat jokingly but also somewhat seductive. This was a pretty bold move, if you said so yourself. I mean, you did seduce him in the middle of class the day before but somehow you were more nervous now than yesterday.
Mr. Lahey didn’t look up. “Y/N, you should go.”
“Aw come on..” You responded, leaning over so that your hand was on top of the paper he was grading. You reached up and put your hand on top of his.
He suddenly jumped up, breaking your touch. He had an apprehensive look on his face, almost as if he didn’t trust himself around you. “I could lose my job, Y/N.”
“I won’t tell. Come on, I’m not blind. I saw the way you were looking at me today. You want me and you know it.” You cooed, standing up as well.
“Y/N, we seriously can’t do this.” Mr. Lahey said sternly, placing his hands on his hips and his fingers dipping slightly into the material of his khakis. His bright blue eyes stared intently at you and you know that the want swirling inside his eyes mirrored your own, regardless of what his lips said.
You stepped closer to him, your hand gently playing with one of the points on his dark gray button down. “You didn’t protest yesterday.” You purred.
He took a shaky breath, tensing a little at your proximity but not making effort to back away from you. “Yesterday was a mistake, a lack in judgement on my part.”
“A mistake?” You giggled, raising an eyebrow at him. “It didn’t seem like a mistake when you bent me over your desk and had your way with me. Or when you commanded me to drop to my knees and suck your cock.” You watched as he swallowed thickly and you smirked to yourself, knowing that his self control was dwindling with each word that came out of your mouth. You trailed your hand down his chest landing on his belt buckle, tapping it slightly with your finger. “Don’t lie, you’ve been thinking about how good it felt to be inside of me, don’t lie. Or how my mouth felt sheathed around you. Or maybe you thinking about how good it sounded to hear me moan and call you ‘daddy’. You had many chances to change your mind yesterday but you fucked me anyway because you wanted it, just like you do now and just like I do.”
Mr. Lahey’s eyes darkened at your words and he swallowed thickly. You dropped your hand to the obvious arousal hidden behind his khakis. You teased your hand across the length of it before gripping it firmly. He jumped slightly, his breath hitching in his throat. “I know you want to fuck me again. You want to bend me over your desk and slam into me over and over again. Unless, you want me to mount you in your desk chair and watch as I ride you. Either way is fine with me.”
Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, your back was pressed up against the white board, the metal marker holder digging into the small of your back. Mr. Lahey’s rather large hand was cupping you through your jeans, the palm of his hand pressing harshly on to your clit. His other hand was holding you firm against the wall by your hip. His forehead was against yours, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke to you in a low, husky voice. “You’re a vixen, you know that don’t you?” When you just smirked in response, he sunk his lips down on to yours, his tongue immediately seeping in between the seam of your mouth. While his mouth seemed eager, the hand that was pressed against was moving in slow tortuous and tight circles. You whimpered against his mouth, bringing your hands up to tangle in his curls, bucking your hips into hand.
You felt him smirk against your lips before kissing the side of your mouth down to your jaw and finally down your neck. He left open mouth kisses down your neck, applying just a smidgen more pressure against your clit. You let out a strangled moan, a please falling from your lips but he just ignored it. You removed your hands from his hair, slipping them between the two of you and grabbed on to his belt buckle. You were just about to open the clasp when he pulled away from your neck. He clasped on your wrists and yanked them away. Using one hand, your small wrists were pinned above your head and you gasped at the sudden action.
“Not yet baby girl.” Mr. Lahey teased, smirking when you squirmed against his restraint. His hand slowly slid up to the button on your jeans, popping it threw the hole. “This are always consequences that follow your actions, Miss Y/L/N, and touching and speaking your teacher inappropriately in attempt to seduce him has serious consequences.” You shuddered at his words, your teeth sinking harshly into your bottom lip. Mr. Lahey sneaked his hand in your now un-done jeans, his fingers dancing lightly above the lace of your panties. He had barely even touched you and you were already throbbing with need. He was so close to where you desperately wanted him but not damn near close enough.
He slipped his hand lower, his finger lightly tracing over your pantie-clad clit. You clenched your thighs together, trying to wiggling your body more against his hand. A desperate moan fell from your lips. God, he was driving you crazy. Instead of complying to your obvious want, he moved his finger down farther, tracing your folds. “Shit princess, you’re already so wet.” He purred, his own voice sounding strained with desire.
“Oh God, please.” You begged, squeezing your eyes shut.
“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping..” He continued on, once again ignoring your pleas.
“Daddy, please..” You moaned, figuring that, that was the only way you were going to get his attention.
Mr. Lahey leaned in closer to you, his lips hovering over the shell of your ear. “What do you want, baby girl? Tell daddy what you want.”
“Touch me. Fucking touch me.” You breathed out, not even ashamed of the desperate tone in your voice.
Suddenly, he moved his hand beneath your panties. He plunged two fingers into you, his thumb drawing circles around your clit. You gasped loudly, moans leaving your mouth effortlessly. You tried your hardest to ground your hips against his hand but that task proved to be difficult with his tight restraint on you. You were close and Mr. Lahey sensed that because with a slight curve of his fingers and tighter circles on your clit, the tight coil in your belly snapped. Your legs convulsed and you let out a long moan.
You opened your eyes at the feel of his fingers moving out of you. You watched as he brought them up to his mouth, licking them clean and muttering about how good you tasted. Finally, he let go of your wrists and you quickly attached your mouth to his, moaning when you tasted yourself on his lips. Soon enough, you were undoing the buttons on his shirt and pushing the shirt off his shoulders. You scarped your blunt nails down his muscular chest, ending at his belt. Swiftly you undid his belt, tossing it to the side. It was your turn to put your hand down his pants, gripping softly on to his hard cock.
He moaned at your touch, bucking his hips into your hand as you began to move your up hand up and down. Detaching your lips from his, you kissed across his jaw, nipping ever so slightly. Mr. Lahey tilted his head back, giving you better access and you licked a stripe down his next, ending at his collarbone. “Faster.” He chocked out and you obliged, tightening your grip on him slightly and moving it at a faster pace, swiping your thumb over the tip.
Mr. Lahey grabbed on to your wrist, stopping your actions. “Get on your knees. I want to feel that pretty little mouth sucking me off.” He half demanded, half moaned.
You did as you were told, dropping to your knees and pulling his pants and boxers with you. You didn’t waste anytime as you wrapped your lips around him, pushing him as far into your mouth as he could go without chocking you. A deep moan could be heard from Mr. Lahey as his fingers fisted themselves in your hair. You gripped on to his thighs, bopping your head up and down. You swirled your tongue around the tip, a trace of pre-cum collecting there.
“Shit…” You heard him moan. “Just like that baby.”
He twitched in your mouth and you knew it was close. You wrapped one of your hands around the base of his cock, shifting it up and down, trailing behind the motion of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m close, God, I’m gonna cum.” Mr. Lahey chanted and that only spurred you on more. With a few more strokes, he let out a low groan and you swallowed his load. Licking your lips, you jumped up from the ground. You pulled your t-shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the side.
Mr. Lahey gripped on to your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips were on the swell of your breasts, his tongue lapping against your skin while his hands groped them, tweaking your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You moaned loudly, grounding your hips into his. It didn’t take long before you felt him harden again against your lower stomach. Every part of your body was burning with desire and you ached to feel him inside of you. Seeming to have read your mind, he discarded you of the rest of your clothes and stepped out of his pants. He took a seat in his desk chair, pulling you with him.
You straddled his hips and made an attempt to sink down on him but his grip on your hips kept you frozen. You gave him a quizzical look and he smirked back at you. “Patience, sweetheart. I told you that there were consequences.” You watched as he took himself in his hand, running his cock against your moist folds. You moaned at the feeling, your blood pressure spiking even higher. He pressed the tip of himself inside of you before moving back up against your folds, teasing your clit. He did this three or four times before you were writhing against him, desperate for some kind of release.
“Quit with the teasing.” You said through gritted teeth, desire pumping through your veins. “I need to feel you inside of me.”
“But it’s just so hot to see you beg for it.” He cooed, running his thumbs against the underside of your breasts, brushing past your erect nipples.
You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. “Please daddy, just fuck me. Make me cum and fuck me hard.” You begged, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
He didn’t seem to need to be told twice before he thrusted up and inside of you. You gasped at the sudden movement and quickly began rocking your hips. His hands immediately gripped on to your waist, grunting as he lifted his hips up, his pelvis brushing against your clit. You lifted yourself up before sinking back down again, finding a pleasurable pace.
“Shit baby girl, fuck that cock.” Mr. Lahey chanted, his own moans filling the empty classroom. He lifted his hands up to massage your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples with his thumb and forefingers.
“Just like that. God, yes.” You moaned in response.
It didn’t take long before Mr. Lahey stood up, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. You heard a few things crash to the floor before you were thrown on to his desk. He began to thrust rapidly in and out of you. You had to bite down on your lip to keep you from screaming out. The tight coil in your belly had returned and your back was arching off the desk, his name coming out in a string of moans.
You squeezed your eyes shut, a line of swear words falling from your lips. You felt yourself clench around him and his hand suddenly gripped tightly on to your chin. “Open your eyes, Y/N. I wanna see them when you cum.”
You forced your eyes open and the intense lust you were met with him in his eyes sent you over the edge. Your orgasm trigged his own before he collapsed on top of you. You both laid there for a few moments, his cock still buried deep inside of you. A thin layer of sweat coated your bodies and the sound of your heavy breathing was the only sound.
The shrill sound of Mr. Lahey’s classroom phone made you both jump but neither of you bothered to move. When the messaging system clicked on, you heard the sound of Mr. White’s voice, the history department head, fill the room. “Isaac, hey, I just wanted to apologize for being so late to for our meeting about the senior final exam. I got caught talking to a parent. I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading to your classroom now. See you in a few.”
“Shit.” Mr. Lahey exclaimed, quickly jumping up and out of you. “Shit, you have to go, like now.”
You felt the panic rising and you quickly slid off his desk, grabbing your clothes and putting them on as fast as you could, not really caring if they looked right or not. Once you were both dressed, you made a move towards the door but Mr. Lahey gripped tightly on to your wrist, stopping you. “No one finds out about this, okay? No one. Not even your friends.”
A small smile formed on your face. For a moment you were scared he was going to start yelling at you about how this was a mistake and it should have never happened a second time. “Don’t worry, Mr. Lahey, I graduate in less than two weeks and until then, this can be our little secret.”
oq prompt:) "curling up on the sofa together, feet tucked under thighs and arms around shoulders, watch the kind of crap tv that only airs at 3am because they don’t want to go to untangle themselves to go to bed"
A quick Drabble from the Hot for Teacher verse
They were a tangle of limbs, his knees tucked beneath hers, their ankles crossed and arms twined together. They hadn’t traded more than soft, sleepy sighs for the past couple of hours. Choosing, instead, to communicate with gentle stroking fingers and lips pressed to pyjama covered shoulders. They weren’t really watching the television, though their eyes remained on the flickering screen.
No, but far too content were they to move from their warm spot. It wasn’t often that they got this amount of time together, not with Robin’s hours downstairs in the bars nor Regina’s early mornings at the school and so, despite the fact that it was ridiculously late - or early, depending on how one looked at it - and that Roland would be wide awake and bouncing at the foot of their in mere hours, neither felt like moving or closing their eyes.
ugh today was so nerve racking! we’re learning dictation in K’s class and it’s really hard for me. after school, when i’m usually in his office, i asked if we could go over it. i wasn’t getting it and he took out a piece of paper, gave me a pen, and told me, “here move your seat closer to me.” my heart, guys, was beating so fast i could hear it.
he gave me some examples, and i was so lost. i just sat there stressing, looking at my paper. he said in a very mellow voice, “okay. does this match up?” and he was looking right at me in my eyes. we were so close i could smell his cologne. i froze staring at him. he asked again, “does this match up?” and again, “*my nickname* does this match up?” i quickly looked around the room and said nodded my head.
if he doesn’t know how i feel by now he must be pretty blind.
I imagine this taking place a little while after they leave the underground, with Sans and Toriel still harboring secret feelings for each other and Mettaton trying to give them a helpful(?) shove in the right direction.
November Rain a Persona 5 fanfiction
Pairing: Sadayo Kawakami/Protagonist
Jiro Kerr (Persona 5 protagonist) and Sadayo
Kawakami take a trip to Sadayo’s hometown to tell her parents the good news.
The problem is her parents have never warmed to Jiro and this disapproval
finally leads Sadayo and her parents butting heads.
This story is set six years after the game and
two months after my Fic “Reunions, Rewards, and Roads”.
These are just my own speculations about how
this particular version of the relationship might go. It’s all ideas in my head
and how I feel my version of the protagonist would react. I know it’s not the
canon name but I use the name I chose because it helps me remain connected to
the character and work through the relationship. I will be using some adult
language, most of it by Sadayo, and there will also be the discussion of mental
and physical on the characters. I feel that even though it was in a cognitive
world there would be physical and mental effects. To them in the moment the
injuries were real and so I figured some of it would translate over to the real
world. Also these characters saw hell…and that…that always has an effect.
Altus owns all in game characters and the
plot. I own nothing nor profit!