One Of My Biggest Red Flags Is That I Love Prof X Student - Blog Posts

serosluv2

1 year ago

little bit of self-indulgence but may i request college au! miguel (you can make him a professor, fellow student up to you) tutoring reader with a bit of suggestive content ;)

☆ﾟ°˖ 𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚) ⋮ heavily suggestive (borderline smut). professor + student relationship. not completely proofread. ⎯ miguel cannot keep his hands off his favorite student

professor miguel had a major soft spot for you. yes, a very unethical practice as he was your superior, but he couldn’t help himself. your sickly soothing voice calling him ‘sir’ or even ‘mr. o’hara’ would play in the back of his mind while he prepped for his next lab. the permanent eye contact he would hold with you during his long lectures left him flustered throughout the whole day. he would even give small compliments here and there about your work— a rare thing anybody could ever receive.

he even personally recommended you to the most prestigious internship in alchemax (as a previous senior engineer that worked for the company itself, call it nepotism). boasting about your skills and intellect with lustrous eyes until he catches himself mid sentence. putting aside his thought process, miguel chugged down his hot coffee and held it in— even if it did burn the entirety of his mouth cavity. he spat it out in the nearest bathroom afterwards.

he cannot feel like this, especially for his student.

but when you graced your presence in his empty office, asking sweetly for tutoring lessons over the summer— he immediately gave in.

now he found himself looming over your smaller frame, gazing down at your hands, fiddling with the steel pen he personally gifted to you when you were accepted into the internship (though he never told you how you even got in). the air felt off without other students bustling in and out of his lab, occupying the other seats as they asked their professor’s personal insight. it was just you and him, alone.

“something wrong?” miguel, usually stern with his voice, softly asks you when he notices the furrow in your brows.

upon his concern, the conflicted look on your face melted into a cheeky smile. miguel couldn’t help but feel relieved that he didn’t upset you when he was carefully dissecting the notes and research you asked help on. but what surprised him was your next statement.

“we’re finally alone, it’s weird to think that, right?”

if he was drinking coffee right now, he would’ve spat it out from utter shock. there were thoughts, very inappropriate thoughts that crossed his mind when he thought about this predicament. yes you’re right, nobody else was here, not even his coworkers that would rudely interrupt him when he graded assignments (ahem peter) can catch the both of you.

“yeah… you’re right.”

he left it at that, but his eyes fell down to your mouth— the pretty gloss adorning your lips left miguel thinking about your body being propped between his legs, the fly of his slacks down as the softness of your hands tracing around his exposed skin.

“mr. o’ hara, are you okay?” you leaned closer to miguel with fluttering lashes, tilting your head to the side with a small smile.

your feigned innocence drove him crazy, to the point he was clawing at the arms of his chair. he was completely restrained, bound by his title, bound by his position— it was slipping away from his grasp and into your pretty hands. shit, all this self-discipline and you weren’t even touching him.

at the end, miguel really couldn’t help himself.

“fuck– i can’t— please come here.” miguel initially planned for a more intimate tone, but he was completely desperate.

immediately, you stood from your seat and walked over to his side of the desk that created a barrier between the two of you for the last three hours. before you had the chance to situate yourself between his legs, his rough hands met you halfway as he held your waist— pressing you down abruptly onto the cold surface that elicited a sharp screech from one of the legs of his desk. with your face and chest pinned down, miguel had a perfect display of your frame.

you felt a warm press against your ass, his death grip guiding your hips onto his erection while he let out a strangled groan from the contact. you began to take control of your own hips, grinding down onto his hardness as miguel slowly came more and more undone. beads of sweat dripped onto the notes splayed across the desk, accompanied with his deep-throated groans that he failed to suppress in his throat.

suddenly, his weight came crashing down onto you, but his hips still sputtered against you. miguel was burning; his skin heated with lust and his sweaty palms continued to grope and pinch and squeeze and take and take all of you in his touch.

“please sir…” you whimpered out, looking into his intense gaze with anticipation.

miguel’s breath fanned your cheeks as he threaded a comforting hand through your hair, then immediately, he gripped your scalp tightly that left your vision blurry with tears. his other hand sneakily reaches between the plushness of your thighs, dragging sharp nails along your untainted skin.

“miguel…” he mumbled with a heavy pant, the buckle of his belt clanking against the floor as his ironed pressed slacks pooled around his ankles. “call me miguel for tonight.”