before; Brad's a student of yours. a very cheeky student, at that. when you decide you want to show Brad who's boss, the game you two are playing with each other gets 10x more dangerous than you ever bargained.
type; smut
warnings; sub!brad, dom!reader, slight blood play (for like, 5 seconds), a lot of dirty talk, cream pie, handjob, mommy kink, age difference, student x teacher.
Brad Simpson. When you heard that name, you couldn't help but roll your eyes.
He was one of the students in your AP Psychology course at the university you taught at. He was a very good student; diligent studier, always turned in his work on time, was never late to class, and always came prepared. The only problem: his insatiable desire to try and make you blush.
You were one of the younger professors at the university, being twenty-six years old. Brad was twenty-one, so it's not like his incessant flirting was illegal or anything of that sort. Just incredibly unprofessional, and extremely distracting. When he stepped into your classroom, he always made a point to compliment you on your outfit, even if it was something drab and sub-par. He maintained eye contact with you during your lectures, came up to you to ask for help at least five times a class, stared at you when you weren't looking, and always flashed that iconic bunny-grin when you caught him. He was a cheeky, young kid who you knew was gonna get himself into a lot of trouble one day, but that didn't stop you from playing along from time to time.
Brad never made you blush; made you roll your eyes, sure. But never blush. It was one day after class, however, that you decided you wanted to try and make him blush for a change. You knew Brad didn't have any classes after yours; he made a point to tell you so during one of your many banter-filled conversations, adding in an overly-exaggerated wink for good measure. You nearly slapped him. But this one time was a tad bit different. You were in the mood to fuck with him, to make him uncomfortable for a change. You couldn't say why this sudden urge had popped up; maybe it was because you were already three months deep into the school year and you were tired of being Brad's victim, maybe you wanted to show him who was boss considering you were the teacher and he was the student, or maybe you were just feeling innocently playful that particular afternoon. Either way, the efforts on your part were definitely worth the look on Brad's face when he stepped into the class that day.
While getting ready that morning, you had switched out your usual jeans and flats for a rather risque, tight, black dress and matching heels. Your hair was pinned up away from your face, your lips painted a deadly shade of red, and your eyes shimmering with carefully applied eyeshadow. You looked ready to kill a man. And the way you looked as you were lecturing your class that day certainly did just that; nearly every male in the sea of faces watching you (and a few girls as well) looked awe-stricken while you spoke.
You almost laughed as you made eye contact with a few of them, their gaze quickly diverting to their notes as you caught them staring. By the end of class, most of your students were disheveled and flustered, their cheeks flushed and eyes darting from your shapely thighs to your exposed cleavage. One student, in particular, was extremely affected by your appearance; the one and only Brad Simpson. You hadn't looked at him once during class, making Brad even more desperate for... something. Usually, he would have been staring right at you, anticipating when you would look at him so that he could wink and grin. But today... it was almost as if you were trying to make him flustered. He didn't know if he wanted to keep looking at you, fantasizing about all the ways he wanted to take you in this very lecture hall, or if he wanted to avert his gaze from your figure for once and think of how the hell he was gonna gain his cool back before class ended.
After you were done with your lesson and everyone was filing out of the lecture hall, you called out to Brad.
"Mr. Simpson, could you stay and talk to me a minute?"
