#professor!harry

Harry feels eyes on him the entire time he’s gathering the miscellaneous pieces of paper off his desk and sliding them neatly into his messenger bag, not bothering to look up from his desk to check who the straggler is because he has a fairly good idea on who it is that’s taking their time leaving his classroom. So instead of giving them the attention he knows they are so desperately seeking he just clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair before slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder and turning towards the door. As he glances down at his watch he hears it, the soft call of his name three rows away from where his desk is situated at in the middle of the room in front of the chalkboard.

“Professor Styles can I ask you something really quick?” Mallory Turner, a student that is currently tanking his European History class, asks with her unnaturally high pitched voice that makes Harry’s jaw tick just the slightest.

“Of course you can.” He answers without missing a beat as he turns around to face her while she slowly makes her way down towards him, she takes the steps one by one while making an effort to show off her long legs and her extremely short skirt as if it has any effect on the man that’s waiting for her at the bottom of them. “What’s your question Ms. Turner?” He asks politely, trying in the most professional way possible to hurry this along because as the semester has gone on he has learned two things about Mallory and one of them is that she doesn’t know how to do anything quickly, especially ask questions and the second is that she undoubtedly has no interest in history and is only in his class because it had a few slots left open at the beginning of the year.

“You can call me Mallory remember?” Her tone is teasing as she stands in front of him, a smile on her face and her tote bag pulled over her shoulder with a notebook held close to her chest that he recognizes as the one she doodles in while trying to look as if she’s taking notes while he’s giving his lessons.

“Right. So Ms. Turner what question do you have for me?” He notices the way her smile falters ever so slightly when he doesn’t call her by her first name, but she quickly brushes it off and holds out her notebook far enough so she can thumb through a few pages until she gets to one that Harry already knows is blank minus a few scribbled hearts he can see in the very top corner.

“The French Revolution-” Harry rubs his lips together and gives her a slow nod as she glances down at her notebook as if she’s reading over something that makes her brows furrow in confusion before looking back up at him. “I think I need some help just understanding it a bit more…the dates are giving me a bit of an issue.” She explains as she reaches over and gently places her hand on his forearm, smoothing her thumb over the material of his green blazer.

Now Harry thinks of himself as a nice person, he lets people skip in front of him in line at the store if they have fewer items than him, helps people find their away around the sprawling campus when they look utterly lost on their first day, he even lets more than one car in at a time when forced to merge but even nice people like him have their limits. And one of those limits is being tested as the girl standing in front of him tilts her head to the side and blinks her long lashes at him a few times while chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for him to offer her some advice all while keeping her hand on his arm, something he isn’t comfortable with at all. So Harry can’t exactly help himself when he shrugs her hand off by adjusting the strap on his arm before running a hand through his hair and giving the girl a reassuring smile before opening his mouth and delivering an answer he knows she wasn’t expecting but is well deserved.

“That’s because we aren’t covering the French Revolution Ms. Turner. We are still covering the profound spread of scientific and philosophical thoughts of The Enlightenment-so that’s why you’re having issues with the dates and I think it would help if instead of drawing little flowers and hearts in your notebook-” He gestures to the one in her hand before continuing. “You use it to actually take some notes.” He says it all with a smile so she doesn’t take his words too harshly even though at this point Harry wouldn’t really mind if she did because maybe it would help her take his class more seriously.

“Oh right-right yes The Enlightenment!” She lets out an awkward laugh as she clutches her notebook tight to her chest, her cheeks a bright pink and her smile no longer matching the flustered look on her face. “Sorry I must have-” Harry holds up a hand to politely stop her from going any further.

“It’s okay.” He tells her softly making her let out a sigh of relief because he knows she didn’t really know what she was going to say next. “But if you don’t have a real question for me I’m afraid I have to get going.” When the girl just shakes her head Harry offers her one more polite smile before turning back around so he can head for the door. “Have a good evening and maybe ask Mr. Thomas if you can borrow his notes.” He suggests on his way out still trying to come off as the polite professor who cares about his students, even the ones who spend their time daydreaming instead of listening during his well thought out lectures. He doesn’t wait to hear her response before pushing the door open and exiting the classroom with a heavy sigh.

He runs a hand over his face and lets out a little chuckle at the look of shock that melted into one of embarrassment on poor Mallory’s face as he digs into the pocket of his tan slacks for his car keys, he hums to himself as he walks down the hall and out of the building to the parking lot. He thinks he’s home free when he reaches his car and quickly unlocks it tossing his bag over into the passenger’s seat but just as he’s about to get in he hears it again, his name being called out but this time it’s from the side walk across the street near the entrance of the building he just walked out of.

“Professor Styles!” Julia Hanes, a fellow history professor shouts as she waves at him while crossing the street and heading right for his car.

He tries his best to put on a face that wouldn’t let anyone in on the fact he is about to fully lose his cool if he has to deal with one more unplanned interaction with someone while all he is trying to do is go home. He returns the smile she gives him as she moves so she’s in front of his open driver’s side door, the slight breeze makes Harry get hit with the overly sweet smell of her perfume causing his nose to twitch as he brings a finger up to scratch at his brow, keys still in his hand.

“Oh you’ve got something-” Harry watches her hand reach over his car door and brush a nonexistent piece of lint off his shoulder before using that same hand to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. “All better-so I was seeing if you’d like to join me and some of the English Lit professors for a drink tonight at the little bar down the street?” She asks with a hopeful grin on her face as she eyes him up and down full on checking him out, something she doesn’t think he notices but he does because it’s not the first time she’s done it and he has a feeling it won’t be the last.

“That’s kind of you to ask but-”

“Oh come on Harry you never come out with us-just one drink? Please?” The obnoxious pout she gives him makes him have to hold back from rolling his eyes but instead he just shakes his head and looks down at the watch on his wrist.

“Sorry Ms. Hanes but I’m running late to a meeting-but next time.” He says with a soft smile making the woman in front of him let out a huff as she slowly takes a step backwards.

“Okay but I’m holding you to that-next time you’re coming…no excuses.” Harry just nods and gives her a chuckle before she turns to head back across the street. “See you tomorrow Harry.” She shouts over her shoulder, Harry just gives her a little wave before getting into his car.

“For fuck sake can’t a man just leave work in peace?” He mumbles as he buckles his seatbelt and pulls his phone out to plug it into the charger. As Harry gets ready to pull out of the parking space he sees the screen light up, a grin spreads across his face as he reads the message before backing out, finally being able to leave the stressful day of work behind him and head to the place that brings him the most joy.

As soon Harry pulls into the driveway he feels the stress of the day begin to melt away, all the mindless small talk with his fellow colleagues, the pointless questions asked in the middle of a lecture just to try to waste time with getting the class back on track and the sad attempts at trying to get his attention with numerous dropped pencils from the girls who dominate the first few rows of his evening class that result in them having to bend over or lean down in a dramatic fashion he knows is reserved for the times when they feel like he hasn’t given them enough little glances or sent an adequate amount of smiles in their direction. The moment he opens the front door and drops his keys in the decorative bowl near the entryway he lets out a deep sigh, the familiar and comforting scent of home fills his nose and his ears perk up as the soft sound of someone humming hits him while he’s placing his bag down next to his shoes, he smiles to himself while slipping off his blazer so he can hang it on the coatrack near the door. It’s not until he walks into the living room, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up that every remaining ounce of tension and stress leave his body and is replaced by feelings of happiness and a love so pure and strong it nearly takes him out at the knees as his eyes land on you.

His wife.

You’re lounging on the plush couch with a book in your hand, not having noticed Harry’s arrival yet and he takes this opportunity to let his eyes take you in. Your mouth is turned upwards into a smile as you quietly hum a little tune while your eyes scan over the page you’re currently reading, your legs are covered by a soft throw blanket but Harry knows by the silky pink fabric of your top that you’re already in your pajamas so he can rightfully assume a matching set of pink shorts are hiding under the blanket making his hands flex at his sides in anticipation of getting to feel the silky material under his fingertips. He tries to be quiet as he walks further into the room, not wanting to disturb you just yet but the creak in the floorboard near the doorway gives him away making you turn your head just in time to catch him mid step.

He watches your face light up the moment your eyes catch his, the book in your hand being placed on the coffee table before you toss the blanket off of your legs so you can stand up. A grin replaces the small smile that was on your face as Harry readies himself for you, knowing that you tend to miss him just a little extra on the days he has to teach an evening class making his arrival home later than you’d like so your usual hug and kiss hello is pushed to the side for a more dramatic but welcomed greeting.

“You’re home!” Your voice is bouncy and full of nothing but happiness as you practically jump into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “Missed you.” Harry instantly wraps his strong arms around your shoulders and pulls you firmly against his chest until your cheek is flat against the material of his shirt as your arms snake around his middle.

“I missed you too love.” He feels your hold on him tighten as he presses a few kisses to the top of your head. “I’m sorry I’m a little late-had the hardest time getting out of there today.” His voice tells you exactly the kind of day he’s had, it’s deep with a faint hint of scratchiness to it from having to repeat the same hour and a half long lecture three times throughout the day along with going over pages of notes with a few students who booked one on one sessions with him.

“Oh I’m sure you did.” You lightly tease as Harry runs his hands down to your elbows as he pulls away from you just enough so he can see your face. His bright emerald eyes roam over your features as if he hasn’t seen you in days when in reality it’s only been since this morning when he woke you up to kiss you goodbye before rushing off to go give his first lecture of the day.

“You know how much you mean to me don’t you?” He asks softly as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his eyes staring into yours. “You know you’re the one who’s on my mind all day-the one who I try to rush home to everyday because I can’t wait to see you and get my hands on you.” You playfully roll your eyes as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead, your hands drop down to his hips. “The one who is so precious to me that I don’t like to share you with the world-like to keep you all to myself.” He adds as he tilts your head upward, his thumb running up and down your cheekbone as you watch his eyes darken and feel his hold on you turn more possessive as he grabs at your hip.

“You don’t like to share me with the world yet I have to share you with classrooms full of people who do just about anything-including letting too much skin show in the middle of winter just to get your attention.” Harry watches your chest rise and fall as you let out a huff of annoyance. “Oh and then there’s the other professors at your school…don’t even get me started on the lengths some of them have gone to just to try to get you to socialize outside of work-calling you on weekends to see if you’re free for a drink or dinner.” You rest your hands on his chest as you tell him some of the things that his students and colleagues do that bother you, a small but noticeable pout forming on your face by the time you finish.

“No one at that school or hell-the world has my attention or my heart besides you my love.” His voice is laced with a sense of affection that runs so deep you can feel it in your chest as he stares down at you, an expression on his face that is all but begging you to believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.

“I know but…sometimes it’s just a bit much.” You admit timidly, not wanting to make Harry upset but also needing him to understand how you’re feeling.

“You want to know the real reason I don’t talk to people at work about you?” He asks as he cups your face with both hands, when you just quirk an eyebrow at him a slow mischievous grin starts to spread across his face. “I like that they all think I’m this quiet professor who doesn’t get out much and probably hasn’t been laid in years.” His tone is playful but with a slight edge that has your insides tingling as he leans down so the tip of his nose can bump against yours. “But the truth is that I just prefer to come home and turn my pretty little wife into a mumbling moaning mess for me…so I can’t be bothered with their invitations to grab a drink or their pathetic attempts at flirting-no I have much more important things I need to tend to.”

Before you can even fully register the words that have flowed effortlessly out of Harry’s mouth he is pressing his lips against yours for a kiss that is anything but soft. His hold on your face lets him be in control tilting your head up just a bit so he can deepen the already hungry kiss, sliding his tongue past your parted lips making a deep groan come from his chest as your hands grip his shirt pulling him closer. His hands drop away from your face so he can snake his arms around your waist and grab at the silky material of your sleep shorts earning him a soft little noise of pleasure from you that goes straight to his cock.

“I know it can be a lot sometimes.” He whispers when he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, his hands sliding down to grab at your ass. “I’m sorry and I’ll do more to let it be known I’m really not interested in anyone other than the beautiful wife I have at home.” He assures you making your mouth turn upwards into a smile letting Harry know he’s well on his way to being forgiven.

“You’d think wearing a wedding ring would do the trick but-well…actually I don’t really blame them I’d probably still try to flirt with you too if you were my professor or my colleague.” Harry’s eyes go wide at your confession making your cheeks turn pink as he stares at you in a way that makes you feel a spark of desire ignite low in your tummy.

“That’s naughty of you baby…admitting you’d flirt with a married man.” He teases as his hands give your bottom a firm squeeze before sliding back up to your hips.

“I flirt with a married man all the time.”

“Oh really? Who might that be?”

“You.” Harry can’t hold back his smile as you reach up and cup the sides of his face, his stubble tickling your palms.

“Just me right? M’the only one?” He asks as he lets you pull his face down towards you until his lips are a breath away from yours.

“Yes you’re the only one.” With that he closes the gap and captures your lips in a hungry kiss that has your hands tangling in his hair as he slowly starts to walk you backwards until the backs of your thighs hits the armrest of the couch.

Harry smiles against your lips when he hears you let out a small moan when he slips a hand under the waistband of the front of your shorts. His lips work their way down your jaw to the side of your neck as he teases you with the tip of his middle finger, running it up and down your slick folds making one of your hands reach down to grip the edge of the armrest for support while the other keeps Harry’s face tucked into the crook of your neck where he’s nipping and licking at your soft skin. The faint whine that slips past your lips has Harry finally putting an end to his teasing, sliding his middle and index finger into your soaked center.

“Who’s the only one who can get you wet like this with just a few kisses?” His voice is husky in your ear as your hands grab onto his shoulders as he quickens the pace of his fingers pumping in and out of your wetness.

“You. Just you.” You moan making Harry’s cock twitch in his pants, he smiles to himself as he presses the pad of his thumb against your clit.

“That’s right. Just me.” His voice is equal parts taunting and reassuring as he nips at your ear, well aware that you enjoy the fact he’s the only person that can make you feel so good with such little effort.

“Harry.” Your voice is strained as you try to grind your hips down to meet the steady pace of Harry’s fingers, feeling the familiar ache that’s slowly turning into a burning need to feel him deeper than his fingers will allow.

“What’s wrong Princess?…hmmm? Tell me what you need baby.” He coos in your ear softly before pulling away so he can look at you, he already knows what you want having dedicated more hours to studying your body and learning what all your pretty little noises mean than all the hours he spent researching for his dissertation back in his college days.

He just likes to hear you beg a little.

“Want-need more.” Your words are rushed as Harry curls his fingers inside of you letting him hit the spot that has you arching into him. “Oh god.” Harry smiles as he watches your face tilt up towards the ceiling and his name falls from your lips. “Feels-feels so good.” You moan, Harry leans down and presses his lips to your jaw.

“But it’s not enough is it?” He murmurs against the smooth skin of your jaw, his fingers moving at a quicker pace that sends a wave of pleasure through you as you tightly grip onto the top of his shoulder.

“N-no not enough.” Harry gives your neck a teasing nip as the words fall from your mouth like a soft whine, too lost in the way Harry has your insides burning with a wild need to care how desperate you may sound.

“Need something thicker maybe?” He hears you let out a loud moan as he moves his thumb in torturously slow circles over your clit. “Something that can go deeper?….is that what you need my love?” His words are wrapped in a velvety type softness as they hit your ears making you nod your head, but Harry loves your voice too much to let you get away with answering him with a simple nod. “Come on baby use your words…tell me what you need…wanna hear you say it.” His voice is gentle and encouraging as he pulls away so he can lock eyes with you.

“Need-” You pause taking a deep breath making Harry give you a reassuring smile as he works his fingers in and out of your cunt at the exact pace he knows will have you coming undone with just a few thrusts. “Need your cock Harry-please please please let me have it I need it so-” Harry’s lips on yours cut off your begging, not being able to stand you looking so needy for him with your big rounded eyes that are a tiny bit glassy and your flushed cheeks.

“Shh shh it’s okay baby I’ll give you what you need.” He promises between pecks to your lips, distracting you from the empty feeling you get when he slides his fingers out so he can unbutton his slacks.

You quickly slide your sleep shorts down your legs and kick them to the side, licking your lips as you watch Harry pull his slacks down to his ankles, stepping out of them before placing his hands on your hips. The smile he gives you before leaning down and placing a kiss to your forehead has your heart pounding in your chest. You take a moment and relish the fact that the man standing in front of you in nothing but his boxers and a white button up shirt is your husband, the man who ruins you in all the best ways and loves you more than anything or anyone else. Before you can get too lost in your thoughts Harry is gently pulling you towards him, his hands guiding your hips to turn around so your hands can grab at the armrest you were just perched on.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky.” His voice is full of awe as he runs a hand down your spine, his sock clad foot moving your feet just a bit so you feel more stable as you bend over so your chest is pressed against the armrest. “You’re perfect in every single way imaginable and yet you picked me to spend your life with.” Your cheeks get hot as he continues to praise you, the anticipation building in your tummy rises when you hear the sound of his boxers being kicked to the side with his slacks. “So the least I can do as your husband is make sure you’re properly taken care of.” You let out a loud moan as the tip of his cock nudges your entrance.

“Oh my-oh my god.” You moan as Harry starts to slowly push into you, letting you savor the feeling of every inch of his thick shaft sliding into your wet cunt. Harry’s grip on your hips tightens and he lets out a deep groan at how good it feels to finally have you wrapped around him.

“Been thinking of this all day.” He says with a sigh as he pulls his cock out to just the tip, a cry of his name leaves your lips when he pushes back in with one harsh thrust of his hips. “Was trying to get home to you-to this as fast as I could.” You bite down on your bottom lip as the pace of his thrusts quickens, his cock hitting the spot deep inside of you that has the ache in your tummy fading away with every harsh thrust. “Only care about you baby-don’t even notice anyone else. You’re the only one I want to have wrapped around me like this-just you.” His words have your eyes stinging and a lump of emotions stuck in your throat, you know it’s silly that him telling you how you’re the only one he sees makes you turn into an emotional mess while he’s got you bent over the couch but you can’t help it.

“I’m all yours Harry. Just yours.” He smiles and leans down to place his lips on your back as your voice fills with emotion.

“That’s right sweetheart you’re all mine.” You let out a choked moan as his thrusts turn harder, more determined. “This sweet little cunt is all mine but don’t worry baby-my cock is all yours.” His voice is strained as he pounds into you at a delicious pace that has your eyes closing and his name flying out of your mouth when you feel his hand move away from your hip, his index and middle finger finding your clit rubbing it in tight hard circles.

“Oh just like that-please don’t stop Harry….oh god.” He can tell your close by the way your words are all mumbled and he can feel you pulsing around him.

“Not gonna stop till you make a mess all over my cock baby-fuck I can feel you squeezing me.” He pants as he gives your clit a few more tight circles, his hand on your hip slides down and grabs at the fleshy part of your ass before giving it a smack that makes you cry out his name as you feel the intense pressure finally give way in your lower belly. “That’s it baby-just like that…come all over my cock sweetheart.” His voice is husky as he slides his hand up to the back of your neck giving it a little squeeze.

“Shit you feel so good.” Your orgasm hits you hard, you push your backside into Harry and you swear you see stars as he continues to fuck you through your release trying to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from you. He closes his eyes and gives you a few harsh thrusts, chasing his own release. When he hears his name tumble out of your mouth over and over as you soak his cock he feels himself toppling over the edge. His eyes open and he looks down at where the two of you are connected, watching the way his cock disappears into your tight cunt has him moaning your name as he coats your walls in his warm release.

“So-so full I love it.” You moan as his grip on the back of your neck tightens just a bit as his hips slow their pace letting him hear the sounds of his release mixed with yours being pushed back into you with each thrust.

“Could listen to this all day baby-fuck you’re so damn perfect.” He tells you between kisses down your spine as he leans over you, his hand on the back of your neck loosening its grip. “I love you-so so much.” You smile as he stands up and places his hands on your hips and slowly begins to pull out. You hear him quietly curse under his breath as he watches some of his release drip down the inside of your thigh. You turn around so you can face him as he grabs your shorts off the floor, your hands automatically reach out for him as he helps pull them up your legs.

“I love you too.” You tell him quietly, your hands on his shoulders. Harry looks at you with a grin on his face as he leans in and kisses the tip of your nose making it scrunch up just a bit before he presses his lips against yours in a sweet kiss that’s full of nothing but love. “But you better not be late again tomorrow or I’m going to show up at your school and cause a scene.” You tease as he pulls away making him laugh as you drop your hands from his shoulders so he can turn and grab his boxers.

“Promise I’ll tell Julia to bugger off the next time she tries to invite me out for a drink.” He states as he slips his boxers back on before cupping your face in his hands. “M’just not ready to share you with them yet-I know they’ll want to meet you and I just don’t think I’d be able to control myself if one of them tries to put the moves on you or…looks at you for too long.” You playfully roll your eyes as he tells you a little more about why he doesn’t exactly want to tell his colleagues about you.

To anyone else, overhearing a student and their professor engaged in such a conversation might raise some red flags, but in this context, it was strictly professional.

"Definitely," you replied, nodding. "I've already completed most of the pigment analysis. I just need you to review the results tonight."

"Sounds perfect. I'll see you tonight, then."

"See you tonight," you said, before turning and walking out of the lecture hall, the door closing softly behind you.

You had been working to become an art restorer, specifically taking paintings and reconstructing and restoring them. When Professor Styles had overheard you telling another student this, he offered to be your mentor, as he was very familiar in the field. So, for the past three months, you would come over to his home every Friday, learning and practicing to restore paintings.

That night, you sat on his couch, grabbing some of your research from your tote bag as Professor Styles—or Harry, as he preferred you to call him outside of class—grabbed you a glass of water.

“So, we can go over your pigment analysis,” He places the glass of water in front of you. “Also, I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, a gift? I wish I had gotten you something.” He chuckled at your remark, walking to his book shelf and pulling two large paintings from a portfolio bag leaning against it.

He held one painting in each hand and turned them around to reveal them to you. They were two old, beat up paintings that had severe chipping and cracks all over them, but they were absolutely gorgeous. A gold mine for a aspiring art restorer:

“Wow,” you leaned in closer as he walked toward you to give you a better look. “These are beautiful, what are they? Where did you get them?”

“Won them at an auction, someone’s great grandfather’s old painting, I thought they’d be perfect to practice on.” You had previously only worked on paintings you found at thrift stores, and that was before Harry even began mentoring you.

“They’re perfect, thank you, Harry.” You looked up at him, giving him a smile.

“Of course.” He returned the smile, a soft, appreciative look in his eyes. “Those are going to take a couple weeks to finish, but it will teach you a lot. Let’s go over what you have first.”

He placed the paintings back in their portfolio bag and sat beside you on the couch. As he rolled up his sleeve, you couldn’t help but notice the muscular forearms that were now on full display. The slight brush of his skin against yours every time he leaned in made your stomach flutter, and you quickly tried to focus on the task in front of you to keep your composure.

It would be a lie if you said you had never noticed Harry in a way that went beyond a professor or mentor. He was undeniably handsome—tall, charismatic, with a presence that filled the room. It had become harder to focus on anything but him, especially since you’d started talking more outside of your shared passion for art history.

After a random comment about his bookshelf one night, the two of you had ended up spending the rest of the night talking about music, literature, and sharing recommendations. Those conversations had brought you closer—far closer than you had anticipated—and, if you were being honest, had only made your feelings for him grow.

But you tried to push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"Let’s see what you’ve got," he said. You gathered the stack of research papers you’d compiled over the week from the coffee table and handed them to him. He had tasked you with studying the chemical compositions of paint from various historical periods. "This is great," he remarked, flipping through the pages. "This will also be incredibly useful for restoring those paintings." He said, pointing towards the paintings he just showed you. You took a sip from the glass of water he'd offered, the coolness easing the subtle nerves you felt around him.

The night continued with you two talking about your research, where to go from here, and the paintings he had given you.

As your conversation went on, it started to diverge from art. You now sat comfortably with a glass of red wine he had offered you, him sitting across from you, doing the same. The topics were easy and light until Harry shifted the conversation.

“So, how are things going in your other classes?” he asked, genuinely curious, his gaze focused on you with an intensity that made you pause.

You shrugged, the words coming out a little more candidly than you intended. “Pretty good. They can be hard to focus on sometimes.”

“Hard to focus?” Harry echoed, his eyebrows lifting slightly. “How so?”

You chuckled softly, the honesty feeling strangely liberating. “Mm, it’s just...not as interesting,” you admitted, almost laughing at the thought of telling one of your professors that your other classes sucked, though the red wine helped with that.

Harry didn’t seem offended or put off by your answer—in fact, he seemed more intrigued. “They’re still art classes, right? You don’t enjoy them?”

“I do. I definitely do,” you reassured him. “But, your class is definitely the best. I feel like it’s the only one where I’m actually moving toward my goal of becoming an art restorer.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on his lips as if he was flattered. “I get it. It’s hard when you’re taking a bunch of classes, and only one of them really feels like it’s leading you somewhere you want to go.”

You exhaled, relieved he didn’t think you were simply disinterested in your studies. “Yeah, exactly. I feel like the rest of them are just kind of...a filler.”

“Well,” he said, leaning back on the couch, “even the ones that don’t seem directly related to your goals still help build the foundation for what you want to do. You might not see it now, but everything connects in its own way.” He looked deeply into your eyes, making you nervous.

“I know,” you agreed, taking a small sip of wine to give you a moment to collect your thoughts. “I know, it’s just hard sometimes when I can’t see the bigger picture.”

Harry met your eyes with an understanding that made you feel like he genuinely saw you, not just as a student, but as someone working hard toward a future they were passionate about. “It’s okay to feel that way,” he said softly. “It’s part of the process. But it will all click, eventually.”

You felt a quiet connection in his words, the kind that seemed to resonate deeper than just the academic advice he'd offered. You hadn’t realized how much his reassurance meant to you until that moment. The wine made everything feel softer, and for a brief second, you let your guard down, your gaze lingering on his face.

Harry smiled gently, and there was a warmth in his expression that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t quite expected. The conversation drifted back to more casual matters, but there was a new undercurrent to the air—an unspoken understanding between the two of you that made everything feel a little more…charged.

As the evening went on, the distance between the two of you seemed to shrink. Harry, though still maintaining his professional demeanor, seemed more at ease. You found yourself laughing more freely, your nerves slowly melting away. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, how his voice softened when he spoke to you, it was all so comforting. You couldn't help but wonder if, just maybe, he felt some of the same magnetic pull you did.

At one point, you found yourself leaning a little closer to the table, showing him a particular section of your research. You didn’t mean to move so near, but the way you both reached for the papers at the same time brought your hands dangerously close. His fingers brushed against yours, and for a second, neither of you moved. It felt like time had stopped, like the world outside the house had disappeared.

His gaze flicked from your hand to your eyes, and you just looked at each other. His expression softened, the playful edge of the conversation shifted into something quieter, something more intimate.

"Y/N," he murmured, voice low, "you really are talented. I mean it." His voice was sincere, and the way he said your name made your heart beat quicker.

You swallowed, a little nervous but not wanting to back away from the moment. "Thank you, Harry. It means a lot coming from you." Your breath felt heavier as your heart raced and the intensity of his gaze made it hard to look away.

He hesitated for a second before his gaze dropped to your lips and you immediately felt a shift in the air. It was sudden and unexpected, yet somehow felt right. When he leaned into you, you couldn’t help but do the same, instinctively closing the space between you.

Then, before either of you could second-guess it, his lips brushed yours. It was quick, gentle and soft. For a moment you almost forget where you were, until you both pulled away.

You blinked, heart thudding loudly in your chest as you met his eyes, unsure of what to say, unsure of what had just happened. Harry looked just as surprised, his breath was heavy, though his expression was kind, almost apologetic. "I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—"

"No," you cut him off, feeling a surge of warmth rush to your face. "It’s okay. I...I don’t know what that was." You stayed silent for a moment, though it felt like hours.

You both leaned in again, your lips colliding, faster and harder than the first. Though, this time, you didn’t stop. His hand went to your hip, pulling you closer to him as one of your hands went to his face and the other to his shoulder.

You both slowly leaned back, laying yourself on the couch as he hovered over you. He soon helped you out of your sweater, quickly pulling away from your lips, but immediately finding them again once your sweater was gone. His hands roamed your body as both of you got lost in each other.

Harry pulled away again, an almost shocked expression on his face.

“Is this okay? I’ll stop right now if you want me too, we can pretend this never happened, it won’t affect anyt-“ he hastily asked, but before he could continue, you kissed him again, giving him his answer. You definitely wanted this.

You tugged at his shirt, telling him to take it off, to which he complied. He begins to kiss down your shoulders before unbuttoning your pants.

“Professor,” you pulled him back up to your lips. You, your body, needed to skip the foreplay and get right to it, you were desperate for him. “I want you, now.” You said in between kisses.

He nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. He helped you out of your jeans and underwear before you helped him out of his.

His hand travels down, making sure you were prepped enough before he started. There was no question, you were sure you had never been this wet before. His hand traveled to your clit and began rubbing it.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He admired your body before running his cock up and down your slick folds.

“Mm, Professor.” You moaned out with your eyes closed, taking in the very little pleasure he was giving you.

“Harry, baby,” He corrected you. “M’not sure how many times I’m going to have to remind you, darling.”

You smiled and nodded, but to be honest, you couldn’t think of anything else other than him pushing inside you as quickly as possible. When he finally did, you hadn’t realized how big he was, but had to get adjusted quickly.

"Can I move?" He asked as he pecked the corner of your mouth. You quickly nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. He kissed you again as he pulled out, leaving just the head inside before thrusting back in. You kissed each other as Harry rocked his hips into you, quickly slipping into a steady pace. He reached down to circle your clit as he kissed your neck and you gasped at the sensation.

Your moans felt like they never stopped as both or your body’s thrusted, being motivated by the built up sexual tension. His pace quickened, causing you to be louder, incoherently moaning and whimpering, which he loved. He looked down at you, taking in the pleasure you got from his cock.

“You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well.” He grabbed one of your legs, holding the back of your knee to get an angle where he could repeatedly hit your g-spot. “Do you know how long I’ve thought about this? How long have I had to watch you in class, pushing down any thoughts of doing exactly what I’m doing right now?”

You moaned out, acknowledging his confession. Every memory you had in his class came rushing back, every time you accidentally made eye contact, was he thinking abou fucking you then? When you purposely wore a skimpy outfit, did he notice?

As you felt your stomach tighten, your moans called out his name repeatedly. “I’m gonna cum soon Ha-” Before you could finish, speaking and cumming, he pulled out of you and looked back into your eyes.

“Need to see you ride me, is that okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You cried out, climbing on to straddle him. You both moved quickly, eager to please each other.

You lined yourself up with his cock, slowly lowering yourself onto him. His hands tightly hold your hips to keep you steady. You start moving up and down, your hands holding yourself up on his shoulders.

Harry watches you in awe, fascinated by your body moving up and down him, your breasts bouncing up and down, your back slightly arched, and your hair beautifully swaying around. Fascinated at how you still look angelic during such unholy activities. You moved your hips faster, looking down to see Harry appear and disappear inside of you.

Your mouth falls open as his cock hits your g-spot with every thrust and his hand moves to rub your clit. Your bounces started to become sloppy as your legs became weak, both from the repetitive movement and the pleasure.

Harry wrapped one of his hands behind your back, pushing you closer to his chest and letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Shh, I’ve got you, let me make you come.” He shifted his hips, gaining a better position before thrusting up into you.

“Fuck, Harry.” You grunted as his hips slammed into you, but his protective arm still held your back in place.

“I know, I know,” he turned his head towards your ear, holding his lips to it. “Let yourself cum, I wanna feel you squeeze my cock, darling.”

His sultry voice whispering in your ear was enough to send you over the edge.Your cunt pulsed around Harry as your climax hit you, sending him spiraling over the edge as well. You collapsed on top of him, your full body weight leaning into him and your head resting on his shoulder.

You both sat there, bodies sweating, chests rising up and down, saying nothing. You had almost forgotten where you were but, how could you? You were in your professor’s arms, sitting on his cock, coming down from an orgasm.

The words rang in your head again…until you lifted your head up, avoiding eye contact with Harry, despite his eyes trying to find yours. What if he hated you after this? What if this was the end of your relationship with him?

You lifted yourself up, slowly looking for your clothes. Harry, with a worried look on his face, did the same. Both of you put your clothes on, still saying nothing.

“I’m sorr-“

“That was very unprofe-“

You both spoke at the same time, then stayed silent.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line. That was very unprofessional of me.” Harry spoke up, both of you finally locking eyes.

“It’s okay.” You whispered. “Uhm…I should go, though.” You grabbed your papers and your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and heading to the door.

Harry walked behind you, holding the door open, watching you begin to walk away.

“I am sorry, Y/N.” You turned back, not knowing what to say. You weren’t mad at him, at all. You were mad at yourself.

“See you on Monday, Mr. Styles.”

[read next part here!]

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

He's also known for being the coolest godfather ever, the best friend a man could have, and for being the most awesome professor ever. All three of these are the accomplishments Harry relishes in having, clinging to those compliments when the others attempt to be too heavy to carry.

He's been accused of many other things.

Never this. Never in his wildest dreams had he hoped or even allowed himself to hope for this.

Draco Malfoy was willingly in his company, willingly stepping between Harry's spread thighs with flushed red cheeks.

Things were tentative, still just new to them both.

"You have to be the most self-restrained Alpha I've ever come across," Draco murmured, lowering himself to his knees.

No one had ever accused Harry of having self-restraint. Especially not Hogwarts' newest Potion Master. The second youngest Professor to ever be employed by Hogwarts.

"Is that so?" Harry's voice had dipped several octaves, coming out closer to a growl as Draco rested his hands on Harry's thighs. He smelled overbearingly sweet, the scent resting on Harry's tongue and reminding him of Honeyduke's most decadent chocolate.

"I've never had the issue of having to beg before, Harry." Draco looked up through his lashes, biting on his bottom lip. "But if that's what it will take then I'm willing to."

Harry freed Draco's lip with his thumb, smoothing the teeth mark gently. Draco's eyes were almost black as he slipped the digit into his mouth, letting his tongue brush the pad of Harry's thumb.

"Isn't there a three-date rule?" Harry chuckled, pressing down on Draco's tongue, trapping it so he couldn't speak, could use the usual Malfoy snark. "I'm trying to be a gentleman, to court you."

In truth, Harry had wanted to bend Draco over the hardwood of his office desk that day he had approached Harry tentatively on his first day in Hogwarts. He had come to make amends as if Harry could hold a grudge against the man.

As if Harry had a choice. As if he hadn't been half in love with him since they were children. The obsessive stalking, the dreams that had plagued him since he had first presented at sixteen.

There was something confusing about wanking yourself raw every time he spotted the man he was supposed to hate so fervently. Especially in the midst of a war where they had fallen on opposites sides.

But this Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, was no angst-ridden teenager. He was for all intents and purposes, the most attractive Omega Harry had ever seen.

Long graceful limbs, hair that had been grown out just long enough for Harry to wrap his fist in, and an arse that Harry had a hard time taking his eye off.

Harry watched saliva pool along the sides of his thumb, dribbling down Draco's chin as Harry kept his thumb in place, keeping the Omega silent.

Draco mewled, his hands sliding further up his thighs to the button of the Alpha's slacks. Harry allowed Draco to undo his button but caught his hands with his free one when they moved to his zipper. He stared Draco down when he swallowed roughly and dipped his head slightly in deference.

"I'm trying to treat you as I should. Trying to be chivalrous, walking you back to your door every night, buying you flowers, and treating you like a proper Omega should be treated." Harry reminded him. He pressed harder down on Draco's tongue when he attempted to speak. Instead, a garbled moan fell from his lips.

Harry arched into Draco's hands, pressing them tighter to his crotch with his own hands. "Coming back to my own chambers and fucking my fist thinking of that tight little hole."

Draco's eyes rolled in his head as he began to suck on Harry's thumb in earnest, flexing his hands. "You don't want to be treated right, do you?"

Draco blinked, attempting to focus on Harry's words but he was too far gone, his arousal permeating the air like a vat of Amortentia. Harry inhaled deeply, his cock throbbing. Draco flexed his hands again.

"You don't want me to buy you flowers or drop you off at your chambers every night, do you? You want me to drag you back to my own chambers and fill that tight little hole, don't you?" Harry released Draco's hands, batting them away to undo his own zipper. He freed his cock with a hiss.

Draco's hands fell down by his side as his breath heaved and his eyes locked on the almost angry-looking tip of Harry's cock like he was a starving man. "So here's what we're going to do. You're going to prep yourself, get that tight little hole all wet and loose for me. I'm going to stroke my cock and if you're ready before I come then you can sit on my cock. If not, well then I guess it's your hard luck."

Harry released Draco's tongue, spreading the saliva on it over his cock and groaning to himself. Draco watched with rapt attention, quivering in place. Harry smirked, stroking himself from root to tip before Draco spurred into action.

He vanished his trousers and pants, rather than move from his kneeled position, and his scent's potency increased tenfold. Harry groaned again, speeding his hand up and twisting his wrist just how he liked it.

He'd had a lot of time to perfect his wanking ability, none more so than in the last three months since Draco had joined the faculty. He was surprised he hadn't given himself carpal tunnel with how often he had found himself thinking of Draco exactly like this.

The man in question was moaning loudly, bouncing on the fingers he had unceremoniously shoved inside himself. He was sweating, a red flush spreading down his chest. Harry had missed him vanishing his shirt.

"That's it, baby. Just like that." Harry grunted, fucking up into his fist. "Show me how you fuck yourself while thinking of me."

Draco's eyes rolled in his head but he focused on Harry's cock again, adding another finger if his moan was anything to go by. Harry pressed his thumb against the gland that ran the length of his cock and bucked up again, clenching his jaw.

Draco appraised him with hooded eyes before deciding he'd had enough and scrambled up to straddle Harry's lap. When Harry attempted to push his trousers down Draco shook his head, one hand replacing Harry's and dropping himself down on Harry's cock.

"Let me get these off." Harry insisted, hand on his trousers again. Draco shook his head, freezing on Harry's cock as he bottomed out. His arse clenched and the tight heat had Harry restraining himself from thrusting up.

"Leave 'em on. It's hotter." Draco insisted. Harry smirked at Draco's very obvious interest in this power play, leaving him at Harry's mercy. before he could tease Draco about it his words were cut off by a loud growl as Draco began to bounce on Harry's cock.

"So good, so fucking good." Draco whimpered, falling forward to press his face against Harry's bonding gland, inhaling deeply.

"So fucking tight, Jesus Draco." Harry couldn't fight the urge, wrapping an arm around Draco's waist and fucking up into him. Draco was babbling incoherently now, every second word was Harry's name.

Slick dripped down Harry's cock, a sticky mess on his balls and thighs and he was sure that he'd smell of Draco for days to come, all of which drove Harry to fuck into Draco harder and faster.

"Please, please," Draco begged against Harry's neck, his hot breath making Harry's hair stand on end. "Knot me, knot me, knot me."

"That what you want, baby? You want to be the perfect little Omega, taking my knot, huh?" Harry growled against Draco's shoulder before biting down on the soft flesh.

Draco howled, babbling incomprehensibly again. Harry could feel the beginning of his knot, that familiar heat that had his eyes clenching shut. "Don't know if it'll fit, if you can handle me."

"Please, I can. It will fit." Draco wailed desperately. "I'll be so good, I promise. Alpha, please."

Harry tilted his head back as he thrust up, pushing the knot into Draco who screamed. Harry thrust shallowly, pulling at Draco's abused rim. "Please, please."

Three more shallow thrusts had Draco clenching down impossibly tight and cumming between their bodies. He sagged against Harry, hitching sobs as Harry continued to fuck into him, chasing his own release.

"Wan' it, Alpha. Please." Draco whimpered, clenching around Harry's knot. Harry gave in, allowing the sensation to pull him under, his hands clenching into Draco's hips as his vision whited out and he came.

When Harry blinked his eyes open again he smiled gently down at the Omega who was purring contentedly in Harry's arms. Hary stroked a hand up and down Draco's sweat-slicked back and the Omega sat up, clenching accidentally around Harry's knot.

He wore a soft smile, bashful after everything. Harry raised a hand to cup his cheek and pulled him into a sweet kiss, more than aware he hadn't kissed Draco since they were leaving the restaurant they had dinner in.

"Sweet boy." Harry hummed when he pulled away. Draco groaned, attempting to hide his smile in Harry's hand. "How do you feel?"

"So good." Draco stretched, clenching down on Harry again. This time it wasn't an accident. "Think you can go again, old man?"

"You're older than me." Harry protested with a laugh. "'sides, maybe we should let this knot go down first."

"Why?" Draco asked, bouncing himself shallowly. His own cock began to stir with interest and Harry felt his breath catch as he looked over his Omega.

His head was thrown back, one hand against Harry's chest for balance and the other on his own cock. "Alpha, my Alpha."

‘Hello, princess. May I help you?’ He responded.

Was it wrong for her to pay special attention to a guy from her streams? He was paying her for every conversation, sitting in on every stream. God, how did he even have the money to stay for as long as he did? She truly didn’t know, but it was hot. Really hot.

His body was stuck in her mind, every time she got off she thought about him and him making a total and complete mess of her. It excited her, his words edging her on. Of course, she was a sucker for whatever he gave her... she desperately wanted to hear him too. She had heard his moans, but she wanted to hear more.

Y/N was definitely buttering him up, texting him whenever she felt like it had been a few days and she felt like she could. They were forming quite the friendship. She hated to think that the reason she got so wet over this daddyh character was because he in a way reminded her of her professor.

‘yes please 🥺’

‘Sorry if this is a lot but I’m feeling really needy today’

Y/N had to meet with her professor tomorrow and she was desperate for some relief so she wouldn’t accidentally do something when he tutored her tomorrow. She just wanted to live in that little fantasy while she could.

‘That’s perfectly fine, sweetheart.’

‘Actually, it does please me quite a bit to know I’m the one you’re coming to.’

He had double texted and felt his stomach warm at the fact that she had chosen him. She had decided that he was the one she wanted to talk to while she was being needy, that she was in need and want to speak to. Their conversations weren’t always sexual— they’d spoken about a plethora of things. But there was always that... tension. And more often than not, she would hint that she was all alone in bed and it would spiral at that.

‘What can I do for you, baby? How can I help...’

He was wanting so badly to know how he could help her. If she wanted just more attention, or if she wanted something else. Money, too. He would give her anything she desired.

Y/N felt her stomach warm up, genuinely pleased at the fact that he was more than happy with her sending him messages like this. She didn’t want to seem clingy or like she was trying to get money from him, she genuinely enjoyed talking to him and he was a very good and loyal viewer of hers so why not.

‘awe good 🥰’

‘I’m happy to hear that’

Not only was he good at keeping conversation but he had proven time and time again that he was caring and it made her heart swell. Y/N wasn’t one to fall for people just like that, but he was slowly ticking off her boxes and she was so so needy for something to get her mind off of her professor. When he asked what he could do for her? She decided to be a little bold.

‘I was thinking maybe we could do a call?’

‘Free of charge of course! Really, I just thought it would be nice to actually get to talk to you and stuff :)’

Harry didn’t see an issue. Voices over the phone sounded distorted and if he spoke lowly in his throat, then he didn’t see the problem. Especially because he really, really would like it.

He decided to call instead of responding. Maybe he was a bit bold in that, but it didn’t matter. He was more than happy to speak to her and wanted to hear her voice in real time. He was praying that she was going to use that cute voice she did when she spoke to his username on the live stream.

“Hello, love.” He said when she answered. His voice was more gravelly and deeper, laying back on his bed. “Why are you feelin’ needy?”

“Hiii” A whine left from her lips once she heard him speak. “You didn’t tell me you had an accent....” Y/N was a pool in her panties. His voice was so deep and low, her pussy was already throbbing. “Daddy, you.... I love your voice.” She said shyly, feeling like he was really just her wet dream.

“I had an okay day today, I was studying and stuff but I just get really frustrated sometimes... my professor is really nice about it though.” Y/N’s Professor also happened to be British so this wasn’t making things any easier on her.

It was insane to hear her arousal. She had whined at his voice. He loved how she said Daddy so naturally, so eager to talk to him. The way she brought him up too— he was curious.

“M’sorry I didn’t, sweet girl. I forget I have an accent.” He wasn’t lying either— he really did forget often that he had an accent and that it was different than hers. Lack is awareness maybe. He’d been living in the states for a while now.

“Thank you for the compliment. And I understand being frustrating, studying must be hard. But you’re such a good girl for doing it anyway.” He was taunting a little bit, slipping the good girl in there without a second thought. “I’m also glad to hear your professor is nice. Good teachers are always an asset to the learning of students.” He murmured, stretching out on the bed. He could hear shuffling on the other side and chuckled.

Y/N was lapping this up. She swore hearing him just like that wasn’t enough, she wished she put on headphones so she could hear him as if he was right there with her but this would do. Instead, she decided to put him on speaker stripping out of the clothes she had left so she could just be naked.

“Y’alright? Moving quite a bit  over there.”

“Yeah— sorry, I just got really hot so I took of my shirt.” Y/N told him, “We don’t have to do stuff right now either, I just wanted to talk to you and hear your voice.” She felt the warmth in her cheeks rising like crazy, knowing that maybe it was a bit much to say to someone who was merely a supporter of hers but she meant it.

“How was your day? What did you do?” Y/N wanted to know. She could just listen to his voice and touch herself and he wouldn’t know, gently caressing her breasts and hips and ass. Y/N was tough starved, hungry for it. Quite desperate too.

“Hm... well; I ate a good breakfast. Went to work, stayed a bit longer than normal. It was a fairly normal day, I suppose. Had some food and came home.” He was talking to a shirtless Y/N on the phone and he knew damn well there wasn’t anything innocent going on in her mind.

“Tell me why you feel so needy.” He questioned. “S’it something you feel often? Or is it a new thing?” Harry wanted to be the one she was needy for. It seemed like he was though; just by how often they communicated and how sweet she was to him. Both at classes and over the phone.

Y/N hummed at his answer, closing her eyes and fully letting herself sink into that deep throaty tone that he had. He sounded so damn sexy she felt like she could cum just listening to him talk about anything. “I’m glad you had a good day.” She cooed, letting out a sigh without realizing it.

“Yeah... pretty often..” Y/N spoke and then thought about how to word this properly. “You know how I said I had a really nice professor?... He reminds me of you...” She explained, hoping that it didn’t make him feel weird. He did say he liked it when she wore the school girl outfit the other day on live so maybe it was a kink of his too? “Then I just think about you and I get so wet and I don’t want to be a bother... but thinking about you always makes me feel so good and I wish you could be here helping me...” Y/N’s tone was breathy as she started to play with her clit.

“Oh, baby. I already know that you’ve been touching at yourself this whole time.” He smirked to himself, hand holding his length in his briefs. God, she was perfection. “Get wet thinking about getting fucked by a professor, hm? You’re quite the naughty girl. Know that you get extra slick in your videos whenever I say something like that.” Oh, he noticed. “Wear that tiny little skirt in the uniform, I love it. I very much wish I was there to help you. I know that your little clit is probably all swollen. Probably feels really good to touch, yeah?”

Y/N let out another audible whine, hearing him talk dirty the way he texted? It was a whole different level of arousal she couldn’t even begin to explain how her body felt. She wanted more, she needed more. “I’m sorry, daddy, I can’t help it... you just sounds so good, it makes my pussy ache... I want more! Please let me touch more, please!”

“Fuck me... it aches, does it princess? M’sorry I’m not there to fix it.” He cooed, cock jumping at the thought. He was fucking aroused, wanting her cunt so badly he could punch something. His briefs were thrown to the side, Harry spitting thickly into his palm before wrapping it around his cock, stroking slowly.

Of course if he was going to pull her kinks out she would use his against him. It would only make him get a bit more heated, make his voice that much darker and deeper. “It feels so nice to touch...” Y/N let out another whimper like moan. “Are you touching yourself too daddy? Did I get your cock swelling for me?”

“Mm. Course I am, you always get me hot. You’re just... so fucking dirty. But you keep it relatively tame on your lives.” He muttered. “Know there’s a dirtier girl. Filthy. The way you talk to just me... know it.” He bit down on his lip at her next phrase, hearing her impatience and need for his touch and cock. That’s what made him feel even better.

She felt her breathing pick up, deciding she wanted to get her vibrator out because she knew she could tease herself and make this last much longer than she could with just her fingers.

“All I want is to be stuffed full of your cock!”

“You’re so impatient, princess. Already touching all over your parts and begging for cock. Can’t help yourself.”

“Please daddy...” Y/N whimpered, bucking her hips up against her vibrator, having it set on the lowest setting but it was already doing a lot. “Want to feel you— fuck.. feel you stretch me out.” She was teasing her entrance, he had gifted her a dildo and sent it to her PO Box. It was the only one she used now.

“I want photos.” He snapped at her. “Sitting there wasting such a nice sight, not letting Daddy see? That isn’t what I want.” He could hear her. “Your little cunt is soaked and I can hear it. What are you using, hm? Your fingers? A nice toy? Let me see.” He was demanding photos and maybe that was out of line but he knew she liked being bossed around in bed and would love to please him.

Y/N swore he brought the filth out of  her. She knew she could be dirtier than most on her streams but with him she turned into a proper animal. It was mostly because he called to everything she wanted when it came to a sexual partner, fulfilled her fantasies.

“Told you I was needy, Daddy!” Y/N whined, “want you to come here and fuck me, make me scream— Ah! Mmm, make me beg and cry for your to let me cum. Want you to force it out of me, over and over! Want you to use me..”

“So what you’re saying... you want to be daddy’s little fuckdoll?” He murmured darkly. “Want me to take what I want from you and make your pussy cum over and over until you’re a drooling mess?” He rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock. “Are you being a good little slut and taking photos for daddy? I want to see your pussy spread open.”

Y/N let out a whine, knowing that she would have to stop what she was doing just to take pictures and she was wondering if maybe turning on her camera would be better. She set up her phone, the way she usually did if she was doing these sessions to take photos and turned her video on so he could see.

“Look daddy..” Y/N whimpered, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see him but that was fine. As long as she could hear him, that’s all that matters. She sat back with her back against her pillows, spreading her legs and showing him what was going on.

His own private show. It was all for him after all. Y/N giggled a little bit when she heard his reaction, setting the dildo that he bought her in front of the camera before leaning down and starting to suck in it as if it were his cock, looking up at the camera.

“Fuck, baby. That’s my little slut.” He growled, watching her give him the best gift. She was shameless and he loved for it. The way she just simply gave him everything, spread legs and looking right at the cane for him... he was incredibly turned on.

“Suck that cock. S’what your mouth is made for, isn’t it? To suck your daddy off, make me cum in your slutty mouth.” He was so aroused, watching her take it deeper into her throat. It was torture  that she wasn’t really sucking him. “Your little pussy aches so badly all the time, doesn’t it? S’cause you were meant to be stuff full of my cock all the damn time. Spread your legs a bit more for me, baby. That’s what I want.” He was stroking himself steadily, spitting on the hand every so often.

Y/N smiled when she pulled off of the cock, slapping it on her flat tongue a bit before pulling back and spreading her legs for him the way he had asked. Being a cam girl really came in handy, she really knew all the right angles and knew just what to say. She was horny too, hearing him praise and humiliate her all at once. It was the perfect mixture of what she loved.

“Daddy... did you buy me this cause it’s big like you?” She asked curiously, bringing the dildo up to her mouth once more so she could lick up the base of it. Y/N watched the camera curiously, knowing she wouldn’t see his face, but knowing he could get the pleasure in knowing she was looking right at him. Her hands moved to bring the dildo to her core again, starting to push it into her slowly but surely. Her head fell back as she moaned in excitement, “Wish it was you! Fuck! Daddy!” Y/N was a whining mess, grabbing at her breasts to ease some tension.

“Mm. I’m a little bigger than that.” He wasn’t lying either. But he was too focused on the view he had. “Fuck me, look at it stretch your open. Got such a tiny cunt, swollen and pink. You use it so much, get yourself to cum so many times. Have all those filthy fucking perverts watching your sweet little body. Wishing they could have a taste. Like a little tempting candy.” He watched her slide it in and out of her pussy.

“Push it all the way in. That’s it. All the way.” He instructed. Her mouth fell open as she struggled a little to take it but he watched it settle in all the way. “Press on your tummy. You feel that? Feel how full you are? S’what I could do for you. Make you even more full than that.” He admitted.

“Of course you wish it was me. You want a hand on your throat and fingers in your mouth. You want to be held down and used like the precious little cunt you are.”

Y/N was close to throwing a tantrum. She wanted it! She wanted him. Every little push of the dildo inside of her was sending her, the combination of his voice and just how deep it was inside her? Y/N swore she was ready to risk it all. If she didn’t know any better she would give him her address and tell him to come over now but she wasn’t that stupid. She didn’t really know him as much as she thought she might have.

“Daddy!” Y/N whimpered, taking a sharp harsh breath. “It’s so deep...” Her voice was quiet as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking about the scenario he had just told her about. She shuddered in response, letting out another loud whine before starting to thrust it in and out of her at a rapid pace. “I want it to be you...” Y/N moaned out, “please— I want it to be you, please.” She was wondering where he was from in that moment, if it would be easy for him to get here. She couldn’t stop thinking about his body, now she had a voice to match it. Y/N just knew he had to be attractive.

“I love hearing you beg. You’re filthy. I love that shit, you know that princess? I love hearing you beg for my cock. I’m just watching you fuck yourself and thinking about it being me... you’re going crazy.” He chuckled. “Fuck, you’re so wet too. Christ sake, you messy bitch. Look at the mess you’ve made on your sheets. Look at the little puddle.” He grit his teeth.

“Want that on my sheets. If I was there I would shove that pretty face in that stain and fuck your cunt open. Keep it held down there. Maybe I’d make you lick it up too. Depends how mean m’feeling.” His pace of his hand quickened.

Y/N couldn’t believe the words that were coming from his mouth. She wanted it to be real, the whine that left her mouth was primal. She was so so close and his words only edged her on, Y/N couldn’t formulate words she was just babbling at this point and she didn’t care.

“Daddyiwan— oh mhm, fuck!” A high pitched squeal hit when she added the vibrator back into the mix. Within seconds she was properly dripping on the bed, her thighs and ass slick and glistening from the light she had in her room. It didn’t much longer for her to cum. Her body shaking at the release, she screamed out for him, resisting the urge to call him by Professor Styles’ name. All she could picture was his face on this man’s body. Y/N was shaking and squealing as she left the vibrator on her sensitive clit, visibly clenching around the fake cock that was inside of her.

“Please, please, please, please!” She was begging, but she wasn't sure what for. Her body felt hot, muscles tensing at the delicious feeling.

“Don’t move it, princess.” Harry hummed, “You can give me another won’t you?” He was close to his on release, prepared to milk his cock entirely for her. Every shaky breath and plead that came from her only pushed him closer and closer to the edge. “So good baby, give me another one, I know you want to…”

"Fuck!” Y/N squeaked, the sensitivity made her legs twitch. It hurt so good, the feeling was like a drug to her. Every pulse of the vibrator against her clit had her mewling, heat spreading throughout her body in waves, her breathing becoming heavy once again.

“That’s it… just like that, cream all over that cock like you would mine.” Harry spoke through his clenched teeth. She was utterly perfect, he couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. Y/N had been doing this all for him, of course she didn’t know it was him, but it was him none the less. The eyes they gave each other during class, the teasing during her streams, Harry wanted to feel her in the flesh. He imagined his hands all over her, coaxing more and more orgasms out of her with both his hands and the toys. For now this would do, watching her body begin to thrash due to the force behind the orgasm.

“You look beautiful…” Harry thought out loud, seconds before he himself felt his orgasm ripping through him. The sound of low groans and the slick of his hand against his cock filled the room, his eyes never leaving her body on the screen. So sweet and laid out for him on her bed, how he wished he could be there to lap up every bit of cum she had given him.

“Did so good for me, bunny.” He hummed, swallowing thickly as he started coming to his senses again. He cleared his throat and watched as she beamed, sitting up to grab the phone from its spot. How on earth was he ever going to let her go knowing she was so close to him?

“Go take a shower and rest up for me, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.” He spoke without a second thought about their class tomorrow. Surely, that wouldn’t be where her mind went.

•·················•·················•

Hands.

His were artful,

Perhaps even an art form in and of themselves: smooth, veiny, with steady joints and capable and patient fingertips.

The hands of a craftsman - suitable for creating planets, galaxies, and even entire universes if they so desired. Both harsh and gentle, they tore, kneaded, and poked… only to stroke softly in the end.

The hands of a lover,

Those were my ceramics professor’s hands.

I bit the hidden part of my lip as I watched them move with conviction. Across the slickness, bare and sticky as they pried deeper and deeper, widening as they went and doing as they pleased.

I felt the urge to push my thighs together as I seemingly always did whenever my professor came closer, but I couldn’t because of the potter's wheel blocking my way - the one where he was fixing the crooked clay pot I had tried to make. “Next time, try using a little less water, okay? Your clay has gotten too soft… that’s why you're having trouble getting it even.”

“So less water than this time, but more than last time?” My struggle to get it right made me feel a little embarrassed, but I wanted him to know that I was listening and trying my best. He nodded in response to my question. “Okay, um- I'll try to do it correctly next time. Thanks for resurrecting my project and making it right again.”

My professor smiled warmly at me, noticing I was becoming discouraged by making so many mistakes. “No worries, I’m happy to help.” I watched him as he stood up, washed his hands in my water bowl and dried them on the rag he kept in his pottery apron. “Don't be afraid to muck around with what I've made. You're supposed to take it apart and rebuild it.”

“If I touch it, I'll ruin it and you'll need to come back for assistance again.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. “I don't want you worrying about that. That’s why I’m here, to fix up your messes.” He sat on the stool next to me again for a moment, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low. “I want you to take it less seriously. Have fun with it — work it ‘til your wreck it. Don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s common blunder for someone who’s starting. We’ve all been there.”

“Thanks,” I smiled a little more assuredly. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

He smiled back as he stood up from the stool. “No problem, just ask if you need anything.”

While I wasn’t sure how I got into the habit of fantasizing about my professor's hands, I did know how I ended up in his class.

I was a Product Design student.

Frankly, only because I didn’t have the grades to enroll in Interior Design like I’d always aspired to. Product Design was the second-best option that would still give me a chance of breaking into the field if I chose my classes wisely.

In order to achieve that goal, I had been planning to take a class on inclusive design this year. However, as I was about to submit my application, my computer crashed, forcing me to reenter all of my information again. Because of this, by the time I made it back to the page, most of the students had already chosen, leaving only statistical literacy and ceramics as open options.

None of those options had even the slightest appeal to me, which naturally made me incredibly frustrated at the time but, at least the choice was clear between them. Anything with the word statistics in it sounded absolutely dreadful and combining it with the word literacy somehow made it sound even worse… so I chose ceramics, despite the fact that I had never tried my hand at it.

That was why I was now behind all of my classmates, which didn't make me feel great, even though no one had made me feel inferior about my lack of skill yet… not even our professor. He was very sweet and attentive, without always being on top of me, which I appreciated. He gave me the freedom to try things on my own, but as soon as he noticed my eyes searching for him, he'd come over to check things out and lend a helping hand.

This wasn't always a positive thing because sometimes the only reason I was looking was because I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn't just his hands that I kept staring at; I found him captivating in all aspects.

His hair was cool. I liked how he kept it in a messy bun and tucked flyaways behind his ears when they landed on his face. He dressed really cute too, I thought — creative yet casual, and the stubble he occasionally sported when he neglected to shave was sexy as hell.

I wasn’t fully aware of his age, but he couldn't have been much older than me when he had finished his Ph.D. in Fine Arts the previous year. In the rumor mill, he had been invited to teach shortly after earning his degree due to his extraordinary talent for clay sculpting, that had made him stand out at our university ever since he started studying there.

He hadn't shown much of his personal work outside of what he did during his school years, but I had heard through the grapevine that erotic themes were his specialty. Another thing I had heard was that because he made art under a pseudonym that he kept as a secret from most people, his work was very difficult to find online.

That bothered me a little because I was interested and wanted to see it, especially after learning that pleasure was the subject he enjoyed exploring the most. Among my classmates, I knew some made jokes about him being a pervert who had only wanted to come teach to score with the female students. My gut told me that wasn't the case, and I was miffed by those people who couldn’t comprehend that someone could find sex fascinating enough to want to depict it in most of their art without being sleazy. Fortunately, I wasn't one of them. I found sex to be an intriguing topic as well… I enjoyed having it, looking at it, and having thoughtful conversations about it.

“Professor,” I called as we finished class. I was still sat by my wheel, while everyone was cleaning and washing up. Being completely honest, I wanted to leave as well… but I made myself stay so I could make my pot look more presentable. “If you're leaving, could you please leave the room key with me? I was planning to stay a little longer.”

He seemed surprised that I wanted to stay.

I noticed his gaze fall on the collapsing walls of my pot as he handed me the key, but he was merciful enough not to comment. “Feel free to stay as long as you like. I'm taking a coffee break, but I'll be back as well.”

Finding that my professor was coming back made the prospect of staying more enticing. I wasn't expecting a lot of interaction with him, though… I didn't want to be a bother, so I would avoid requesting his assistance. It was already embarrassing enough to ask for it in class, even if he kept assuring me it was perfectly okay to do so…

Professor Harry returned to the classroom after about 10 minutes, seeming happy to find me still there. As he walked inside, he cracked a lighthearted joke about how surprised he was that I hadn't destroyed anything yet. I snorted a laugh and said that I was surprised too.

I observed him carefully as he re-tied his apron around his waist. It seemed like everything the man did attracted me. The way his triceps flexed with movement, the contours of his back, the ease with which his fingers tied the knot. None of these things escaped my attention.

“Would it be okay if I turned on some music?” Due to my dry mouth, it took me longer than it should have to answer his question. “I'm not a big fan of working in silence, but it’s okay if you are…”

“Oh, please, go ahead.” I was finally able to react, but my voice came out weird. “I don't particularly enjoy working in silence either...”

My professor smiled, then walked over to his desk and sat down at his laptop. “Have you got any special requests?”

I pretended to contemplate for a moment, but I didn't want to be the one picking the music. I wanted him to choose because I was nervous about accidentally having him listen to something he didn't like… and I was also curious about his musical tastes. “Not really, no. I'm not picky. I like most music.” That part was true, but he seemed skeptical. “Just pretend I'm not here and play whatever music you normally listen to.”

The look on his face was still skeptical, but he agreed. “Okay, I will. Just let me know if you don't like it so I can switch to something you like best.”

He put on Woodkid's Warm Core album and looked at me to see if I was keen on the choice. “This is cool. I like it.” It was the kind of alternative music I anticipated he would listen to, being an artist and all, and it made me happy because I also liked it.

“Alright, good. If at any point you decide that you no longer like it, feel free to request a change.” I was getting a little hot over how much he was focusing on making sure I liked his music. I’d always had this conviction that one of the ways to tell if a guy is good in bed is to look for signs that he is considerate and eager to please – and already, my professor was scoring points in that department. I glanced at him, and I believe he noticed because he asked, “Is there anything you need help with, or should I just let you do your thing and keep to myself?”

“Um…” I stammered, returning my attention to the horrible looking pot I was working on. I had been right the first time. I shouldn't have touched it after he fixed it for me. “I'm holding up for now. Thanks, professor.”

He smiled at me. “You can leave out the “professor” when we're outside of class. That term is still settling in for me… it's a bit off-putting to be addressed that way when I was also a student here just a year ago - especially when I can't be that much older than you, right?”

I joined him in his smile. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I suppose it's not weird for me because I don't remember seeing you at school last year. How old are you, though, just out of curiosity?”

“I’m 27, you?”

“Wow, you’re really old...” He wasn’t, really… especially since I had assumed he would be in his thirties, given that he was a professor and all. I snorted when he side-eyed me from across the room, where he’d been tidying up and organizing the equipment the students had left behind. “I was just kidding. I'm 22, so...”

His brows furrowed slightly in response to my reveal. “So you're a little older than the rest of the class. Makes sense, you seem a bit more grown-up in comparison to them.” I took that as a compliment because, while my classmates weren't much younger than me – they had to be around 19 – some still acted like teenagers in many ways. “Also, since you mentioned not seeing me at school last year… that’s because I went abroad for a few months to study, and then I had to wrap up my thesis, so I didn't come very often.”

“Oh, that's cool. Where did you go?”

“Norway, to Oslo more specifically. It's a city I think everyone should visit if they ever get the chance to. I had a wonderful time there.” He turned his head away from what he was doing to look at me. “Have you ever thought about going abroad for school?”

“I've thought about it, but I don’t know. It doesn't really call to me right now, to be honest... maybe next year.” I was really interested in hearing more about Harry's experience in Norway, so I shifted the focus of the conversation back to that. “What was the best part of it for you?”

I could tell he was excited to talk about it, as evidenced by the sparkle in his eye. “A difficult question, that. I loved the landscapes and food there, as well as the people. Oslo’s a beautiful city, and it has an amazing art scene that's definitely worth exploring.” He paused for a moment, laughed, and then spoke again, “But I guess I should say that meeting Astrid, my girlfriend, was probably the best part.”

“Wow, that's... something.” Something I'd rather he didn't have, I thought to myself despite my amenable expression. “Has she traveled all the way here with you?”

“Oh no, she stayed in Oslo. We've been doing long-distance and stuff… it isn't always easy, but we make it work.” I could tell by the look on his face that he had somewhat regretted sharing that with me. “Anyway, you should give the studying abroad thing some more thought... you seem like someone who would enjoy that kind of thing. You give off a good vibe.”

“Ha, thanks... so do you. I really like your style.”            

I saw his cheeks flush at my compliment. “I don’t put a lot of thought into my clothes, to be honest. Most of the time, I just throw on whatever.”

“Well, it works, so...” Seeing me shrug, he smiled, but said nothing further. I figured the conversation was over and got back to my work. Harry did the same thing; except he was no longer cleaning up and was instead using his laptop.  Even though I stayed another hour, he didn't leave until I did, which made me feel bad because it made me wonder if he had stayed on purpose to be there in case I needed anything. “Do you usually stay here until this late?” I inquired as he closed the classroom door.

“Um… it depends, sometimes I do, but if you weren't here I would’ve probably left earlier.”

His confession caused a small contraction in my heart. I now regretted staying for so long, especially since I had spent some of that time merely acting as though I was working. “Oh, I'm so sorry. You didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine by myself. I just wanted to practice.”

“Oh no, don't get me wrong. I stayed longer because I wanted to. I live alone, so… I am by myself a lot. It was nice to have company for a change.”

“Ah, I see...” That was something I hadn’t considered before, but it made sense. Most of Harry’s university friends were probably no longer around, or if they were, perhaps he'd lost touch with them after going away for so many months. That had happened to me with my high school friends, so I knew how it felt. “I was actually planning on doing this more frequently to see if I could improve my pottery skills, so… you're welcome to keep me company if that's something you'd like to do.”

He acknowledged my invitation with a courteous smile. “Ah, thanks. I appreciate that.” When he didn't respond right away, I assumed he wasn't interested, which made me feel stupid for having suggested it. Why would he want to spend time with a student five years his junior? He was probably cringing at the thought. That was what I was assuming, until he started speaking again after a pause. “I reckon as long as you really don't mind me being around, that could be something that works for me.”

•·················•·················•

Over the course of a couple of weeks, it became a habit for me and Harry to spend time together after class. Most times, more than once a week. The days when I didn’t have class until late, I would wander to the atelier after his class and spend the next few hours there. It was really easy to get along despite our slight age difference.

I didn't know Harry well enough to say that we had a lot in common, but we just clicked really well. Having a conversation with him was easy, and his presence was warm and reassuring.

We would sometimes work separately, but Harry had taken it upon himself to teach me the things I had been falling behind on. He taught me how to use a kiln to fire and glaze pottery, as well as a bunch of different building and decorating techniques. I liked the last one most because he got to sit next to me and help me paint and texturize. I was really proud of a mug we had made together. Harry had commented that the wavy handle I had made for it looked like the tail of a fish when we put it in, so we went on to decorate the rest of the mug to fit that concept.

“You’re a good painter…” He complimented me as I painted the fish’s fins. I wrinkled my nose at him. Painting had always been a fun activity for me, but I had never considered myself good at it. Harry, on the other hand, was a true artist, thanks to his Fine Arts training and skillful hands…

I looked at the fin I'd drawn and noticed that it was unmistakably more unsightly than the one on the picture I was taking inspiration from. Harry couldn't possibly believe I was talented as a painter. He was just trying to say something nice.

“What? I'm serious…” He assured me, appearing a little surprised by my doubtful demeanor. “And you have a great eye for color too.”

“Hmm, I find that last one is a little more believable; I'll take it.” I said before returning to straightening out my wonkiest brush strokes. I'd spent enough time designing pretty rooms in Intericad Lite to feel reasonably confident on my ability to mix and match colors so, accepting that compliment wasn't too difficult. Besides that isn’t really a talent, is it? It's something a lot of people have.                                         

“Hey,” Harry’s voice drew my attention back to him. “I meant both of the things I said. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t.”

The seriousness I was met with when I looked into Harry's eyes made me feel emotional and flustered at the same time. “Thanks,” I smiled a little before looking down at my mug. “I think I haven't gotten a compliment on my painting skills since I was a little kid…”

“You used to get compliments on it when you were little?”

“Sometimes, yeah… mainly from teachers because I always colored inside the lines.”

“I think it's really unfortunate that we stop getting compliments as we get older… I can't really complain because I've been lucky to grow up in a supportive environment, but I know that after a certain point in most people’s lives criticism becomes the norm, while praise for rightdoing is never given.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I grabbed another brush and continued to color my mug because the topic we were discussing was now making me feel like I might actually start crying if I didn't keep my emotions under control, and I didn’t want Harry to see that. “My parents were never particularly supportive of me or my interests, so I haven’t felt much of a difference as I grew older… I think that’s why I find it a bit difficult to accept people’s compliments nowadays, though. I tend to doubt myself and others a lot.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I had a hunch that was the case with you.” Harry’s statement surprised me a bit. I knew professors could usually read their students well, but I wasn't aware of how see-through I was. “When we first started class, I was a little nervous because I could tell that you were lost at times and could use some help, but I wasn't sure of how to approach you. I was afraid that if I made it known that I could tell you were struggling, you would withdraw even further. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to feel comfortable and know that I wouldn't judge you.”

“You never made me feel uncomfortable… I just felt embarrassed to ask for help because everyone in your class comes from an arts background and knows more than me. I didn't want you to think I was dumb or that I was wasting your time with questions that I should have known the answers to.”

“You could never waste my time. I like teaching you a lot… you always listen and all the questions you ask are perfectly normal.” He gave me a reassuring smile and I felt my insecurities melt away with the rest of my body. “And on top of that, it's easier for me to teach you since you are a blank slate, as opposed to some of the art students who come with stubborn vices they won't get rid of. Experience isn’t always an advantage.”

“You're a really good professor, Harry.” I said truthfully. “I'm really glad I ended up in your class, even if it wasn’t my first choice.”

“It wasn't your first choice?” His face pretended to be shocked, but I knew he wasn't. Given that I had told him about my goal to pursue a career in Interior Design, I knew he had to have known by that point that there was no reason for me to be in his class other than by chance. “Okay, now I'm offended, and no amount of ego-puffing will help you remedy that…”

I shook my head and smiled at his antics as I dipped my brush back into the paint palette. “Not even if I admit you're really cool to talk to and have great musical taste?”

Following my brush dip, Harry dipped his as well. “Give me a little more detail on that and I might re-consider.”

•·················•·················•

I hope you guys liked this first part 💜