#i cannot -

my beloved “together or nothing”💙❤️

You go to professor rogers office hoping to earn some extra credit, as you hadn't done well on your last quiz. The door is open and you knock on it to announce your presence. He tells you to come in and take a seat, and he asks what you need. You explain to him your situation and he says that he's sure something can be arranged. He asks what happened to you while you were taking the quiz, he knows you always do well on other tests and he asks why this seemed to be difficult to you. You respond by saying you had just been distracted and had some things on you mind. He lets out a small laugh and says that he hadn’t realized he’d been that much of a distraction. Your eyes go wide and you ask him to repeat himself. He tells you that he’s noticed you staring at him since the beginning of the semester, says that you hadn't been as discreet as you might’ve thought. You look down at your lap, too mortified to meet his eyes. You hear him shifting in his seat, followed by the sound of footsteps. You feel a hand on your jaw, his fingers raising your head to face him. “Now about that extra credit.” He tells you that if you’d like, you can make up your test in his office. You nod and tell him that sounds great. He walks around his desk and opens a drawer, sifting through files and pulling one out. He flips through the contents and finally pulls out a page with your name on it. He leaves in on the desk and walks around to the door, closing it gently. “We wouldn’t want any other students to interrupt your test, now would we?” You shake your head, agreeing with him. He sits down in his chair and as you reach in your bag to grab a pen, he meets your eyes and tells you that a pen won’t be necessary. You give him a confused look, to which he lifts his hand and motions for you to come to him. You moe to stand in from of him, and he slides his chair out from under his desk and pats one of his thighs. “Take a seat.” Your cheeks heat up as you look down, but you straddle his thigh nonetheless. He adjusts his hands so that they have a slight grip on your hips. He tells you that all you have to do is grind down on his thigh. He has your quiz on his desk and says that he’ll ask you questions from it and if you get one wrong, you have to stop moving until you get the correct answer. You comply, starting to move your hips in a comfortable rhythm. By question 4, you’ve started to slowly slip out of the rhythm, which stops all together when he tells you to stop, his grip on your hips becoming tighter than before. You look into his eyes and give out a slight whimper and you tell him that you’re not sure of the answer. “You’re a smart girl, i'm sure you'll figure it out.” he bounces his leg up, giving you a tiny amount of friction for only a moment and you sigh and you look up at the ceiling, going 100 miles an hour through your brain trying to think of the answer. When you find the answer a few seconds later, you begin grinding your hips down on him again, “discharge of exempt witness.” he smirks and says you’re a good girl, that he knew you’d remember the answer. You inhale sharply, his little comment making you prouder than you’d care to admit. You move your hips a bit faster, a bit harder, as he reaches the end of his list of questions. Once he has nothing left to ask, he takes a hand off your hip and moves it down to your panties, moving them to the side to rub your clit, whispering that you’d passed, that you can come now. Not even five seconds later, your legs are shaking around his thigh and your mind goes cloudy, your vision losing focus. When you come down, you realize that he’s still looking at you, making you feel self conscious, ironic after the events that had just occurred. You lift yourself off him, moving to gather your things and to adjust your disheveled appearance. A few minutes later as you're walking toward the door to leave, he tells you that if you ever need anymore help, don't be afraid to come ask, his door is always open.

          gaze     flicking    up,     catching     keenly,     he     tumbles     a     piece     inlaid     with      𝚊   𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍   𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠   𝚐𝚎𝚖      between     deft,     quick     fingers.               when     words    come,    they’re    a    rumble,     intent     :     PURR.               as     close     as     he     can     get     to     thanks.                 ❛❛     careful,     mads.               one     might     think     you     LIKED      me,    ❜❜        /          @madnifcnt,     for     his     birthday .