Mr. Burnham (smut - 18+)

Mr. Burnham

(Reader- age 21, Bo- age 25, "Make Happy" era look)

College
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It was just any other morning in class, except you couldn't help but squirm in your seat as you collect your thoughts of the dream you had last night about your college professor, Mr.Burnham. You never looked at him that way before. It did things to you. Many things.

Your friend sitting next to you just looks at you in a way you know she's judging. She looks at your hands covering the bottom of your skirt and your knees tightly held together. You silently but rapidly tap your leg up and down and your heart begins to race. You watch the class door open as your professor walks in and shuts the door behind him. Your eyes look him up and down, taking in every detail. He's wearing dark blue jeans with a black belt and a tight, blue long sleeved polo that was rolled up at the cuffs. You watched his veiny hands arrange his desk full of textbooks, pens, and papers. Goddamn, did he look fuckable.

He gave one swift look at his watch before announcing to the class. "Good morning, everyone.." his eyes skimmed the audience before him, and then they met your gaze for a split second. It felt like his ocean blue eyes were burning through you. You opened up your laptop and began taking notes as he was talking. You drifted off into a day dream full of lust as you watched him talk. You watched the movement of his hands as he spoke, wishing they were choking the absolute shit out of you while you were bent over a desk. You snapped back into reality as he noticed you were the only one just sitting there while everyone else was typing. He held your gaze as he turned his back to everyone and began writing the rest of today's lesson on the chalkboard.

Class just ended and as you gathered your things together to leave, you watched as your professor sat at his desk, writing on papers and running his fingers through his hair. You kept your eyes on him for a few seconds before throwing on your cardigan and slinging your purse over your shoulder. You grabbed all your belongings and made your way to the door. You were the last one out of the door, and a chill ran down your spine as you heard your professor's low rumble wish you a good rest of your day. "You as well, Mr.Burnham." You smirked behind your shoulder as you hurried to your next class.

All day and all night, your professor consumed every thought you had. You couldn't get him out of your head. The veins. His hair. His insane height. His height can only lead you to wonder what else is big about him, and you wanted to desperately find out. You rolled over in your bed and closed your eyes, only to have another dream about him fucking the breath out of you.

Over the next few weeks, you began wearing tighter and more revealing clothes. You didn't care about a dress code because this wasn't high school, it was college. You can practically wear nothing. As you sat in your seat, your friend noticed the change in clothes. She knew something was up, but you didn't dare tell anyone that you wanted your professor to absolutely destroy you in every way possible. You didn't want anyone to know you want to feel every inch of him deep inside you. You were slacking off with your work lately and noticed your grades have gone down, a lot. You were normally a straight A student, but now you are failing almost every test, you're not handing your work in on time, you're too distracted. Today, you're wearing a small black skirt with an autumn brown knit sweater and heals. The bell rang, you picked up everything on your desk to move on with your day. As you were walking towards the door, your professor stepped in front of you and shut the door. "I need to have a word with you, please." He said lowly, walking back towards his desk and opening his laptop. You looked back at him and he was staring at you, and with a swift flick of his pointer finger as if to silently say "Get over here. Now.", you slowly walked over to his desk. "For... for what, Sir?" Your voice was shaken and your throat was dry. The man before you was so intimidating, yet you wanted to get closer just to see what he can do to you, and how rough he can get. He was slouched over his desk, pulling up your grades. You knew what was coming. He looked up at you with a stern look and let out a sigh. "What's this about?" He turned to screen so you're left staring at your failing grades. "You will not pass my class if you don't pick up your grades." He didn't break the look he was holding on you. You could feel him looking right through you. "Uhm.." you stammer. You can't find the right words to make up a lame excuse. You can't let him know the thoughts you have about him.
"Well? I'm waiting." He grits through his teeth. "I cannot have my students fail my class. You need to be paying attention and doing your work. I am out here, doing my best to teach you, and what do I get? Absolutely nothing. You are the only one who is not handing in their work, you even submit blank tests. What the hell is going on?" His eyes widen and he shakes his head, demanding an answer. "I....I've just been tired lately." You idiot. He's not going to believe that. What the fuck kind of excuse is that? He exhales. You lift up your skirt a bit to itch your thigh, exposing more skin and you watch his eyes dart to your thigh and then back to your eyes. "Im going to need you to stay after next week to work on everything you need to make up. Got it?" He snaps. You slowly nod your head in agreement. He nudged his head towards to door. "Leave. I've got work to do." He watches you as you walk out the door and close it behind you. The fuck was his problem? Him talking to you so sternly only made you wet at the thought of his dominance.