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and he’s very professional. until he’s not. your paper was truly very good. and he could’ve made you happy, given you the A you deserved and left it at that. but instead, he marked it up with blood red ink, plastered question marks in the margins and scribbled analysis on the side that didn’t even make sense to you.

so you sniffled and knocked on his office door. you really need your A—you worked so hard. so you ask how you could’ve done better.

but as soon as patrick’s mouth parts, his hand running through his hair and his nose twitching, lifting his glasses ever so slightly—you can’t focus.

it’s impossible to listen to what he’s saying.

“does that make sense?” he pushes his glasses up.

your voice cracks and your cheeks blister with a red hot blush.

“um—“

he gets up and opts to sit next to you instead. says he’ll explain himself better. and this time you do listen, but patrick’s big hand rests on your bare thigh. he stares at you. wants to see how you react. this is wrong, he knows.

but you spread your legs, and patrick draws in a breath because he can see your white cotton panties, drenched.

“your analysis here—“ he points to your second paragraph. “isn’t a sound argument coming directly from your thesis. you would need to—“ his hand grips the flesh of your thigh, hard enough for his veins to protrude. his fingers inch closer and closer to your cunt, and you watch the bustle of the university outside of his door.

“oh—um. i can alter that, yeah.”

“yeah?” his fingers pull at the hem of your panties and you squeak. his forehead has beads of sweat forming near his brow as you stare at him, awaiting.

his fingers break the seal, pushing beneath your panties to rub at your slit. soaked for him, clit puffy and desperate for attention.

you wonder if he does this all the time, but you really more.

he drops his pen; it rolls beneath the table pushed flush against his desk. he crawls beneath it to retrieve it but he stays there, and you watch how his glasses fog as he breathes against your pussy.

he pushes his glasses onto his head.

“do you want this?”

you nod, gripping the sides of the wooden chair you’re on.

his breath inches closer. “tell me you want me to eat your fucking pussy.”

his words cut deeper this time; you’ve never heard him say more than a few at a time.

“please—eat my pussy, fuck-“

warmth, then wetness. a fat stripe licked up your soaked slit.

“yeah?” he spits on your cunt, rubbing it in with his deft fingers. “dirty fucking girl.” he suckles your clit into his mouth and you squeak. you move to cup his jaw in your hands; it tenses and relaxes as he laps at you, brows raised to stare at you with those pretty green eyes. he lets off. “are you a slut?”

you push his face into your cunt. “yes—i’m whatever you want me to be—“

a slap to your thigh. “so you’re a fucking slut.”

save a horse and ride a cowboy that’s kind of a loser and really hot and loves his family and very sexy and intelligent and should’ve had a better character arc/storyline and yummy OM NOM NOM I WANT TO EAT HIM let me ride his face i’d treat him so good i’d suck his soul nd let him do whatever he wants to me i’d let him take his anger out on me by pounding into my raw pussy for hours on end

sorry guys punctuation doesn’t exist when i’m ovulating