freakblob's freaky blog

"Your grades are slipping." He speaks slowly, in the same deep, nasally tone he has when deducting points from a student, as he often does.

You blink, as if snapped back to reality by his words, as you've been frozen still and confused by his approaches ever since he locked the door.

"I'm sorry, Professor." Your own voice is quiet, submissive, with a slight crack to it from your vocal cords thickening these past months. He is way too close, but for some reason you feel the urge to invite his warmth. He has you cornered against his desk, his black robes almost swallowing your own with no space inbetween.

Snape stares down at you, his chin kept high. He is terrifyingly imposing, studying your features. You feel a certain warmth growing under the skin of your cheeks, halfway hoping he would notice how much shapier your face had become. Lately, it's become a habit of yours to stare at yourself in the mirror, studying each tiny detail for new changes ever since you started taking those potions. You wonder; does he find you handsome?

His face never changes, of course it doesn't. Instead his hand slowly descends from your chin, down your throat, until his fingers spread the white fabric of your collar. Softly, yet assertively caressing the small bit of skin exposed beneath it. Your breath shivers.

"Not to worry." He says, his eyes following his hand, his dark eyes scanning over your smooth skin in a way no teacher should. "I am aware that you don't seek to disappoint me. Unlike many students."

You understand what he's doing. The shock, that this was reality, was what had previously kept you from acknowledging his actions. With another shuddering breath, you decide to play his game.

"I would do anything to improve, Professor."

You swear you can see the corner of his mouth twitch. Then, he leans down, his frame engulfing yours. He speaks lowly, almost in a terrifying whisper.

"Good."

You feel the hairs in your neck stand on end. His gravelly voice sending tingles through your entire body, as if he'd cast a spell that lingers mostly in your abdomen. Your mind fills with filthy thoughts, the testosterone in your body working overtime to make them all the more vivid.

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Right, so I worry that I get carried away in the paragraphs, but I'm honestly enjoying the more in-detail descriptions. I never see the effects of testosterone being discussed at all even in explicitly transmasc fics, despite how well you can work with them in nsfw settings! Seriously guys, I can't be the only one writing about it!