Supernatural Imagines & Preferences

Misha Imagine

Mr. Collins Part 1~

You lean on the bathroom counter of your school, staring at the bags under your eyes and pale skin. It was the first day of school and partying until 3 in the morning the night before was probably not the best idea.

Your next class was history and you heard that you had the newest addition of the social studies staff. You sigh at your pathetic expression and reluctantly make your way to the class.

The noise was already gathering from out in the halls. You grip the door handle and wait.

"Are you going to open that?"

You jump back, turning sharply with wide eyes. An older man with light stubble and blue eyes stood with a little smile holding some books in his hand. He looked too old to be a student. Was this your new teacher...?

"Uh, yeah." You answer, turning back around and opening the door. The two of you walk in, his breath hot on the back of your neck, the whole class immediately going quiet.

Your cheeks heated a million degrees before you moved away from the attractive man behind you and to the farthest seat away from his desk. Turns out you weren't the only ones who thought he was attractive; the younger girls who sat next to you were quietly whispering about him.

When the bell rang, he rose to the middle of the class. His shoulders were broad and hair tasseled effortlessly.

"Hello students. My name's Misha Collins," He smiles happily- like teaching history was the most fascinating thing in the world. "Now this class is Us History. Don't know how I pinned this one down, I'm from Russia." He tries to joke and the girls who want to impress try to laugh.

You roll your eyes and turn your head down to your phone. He may be hot but this was going to be a terrible year.

~~~~

"THIS IS NOT FAIR!" You scream, busting into the room with your previous test in your hand. Misha- Mr. Collins- looks up from grading, innocent blue eyes catching the light.

You slam the door behind you angrily and then stomp over to him, slapping the F on his desk. You have his full attention now, and is that a smirk you see? He thinks this is funny?!

"What's your problem?"

"You gave me a fucking F!"

"Language." He warns, voice dropping. You ignore it and bare your teeth at him.

"I did nothing wrong. You gave me a bad grade in spite!"

"Maybe you should pay attention when I'm speaking." He says, voice a hint deeper than before. You stare at him shocked and angry. He hasn't taken his eyes off you.

"That doesn't-"

"Look, we can negotiate a better grade," He cuts you off, sitting up in his chair and brushing aside the paper he was grading. Your eyebrows shoot up. "Really?" He smiles genuinely at you and nods once.

"If you answer me three questions." His tone was a warning, you should've known. But if your mom found out you got an F on a simple Civil War test, she'd kill you. You gesture for him to continue and his lips quirk up before falling serious.

"Are you 18?"

Odd question. But you figured what the hell, what's it gonna do to reply? "Yeah."

"Good. Are you a virgin?"

Even weirder question. Now you had a direction of what was going to happen- or rather how to get a better grade. You shift. "No, I'm not. Why-"

"Good. Want to know how to get a better grade?" He leans his elbows on the desk, staring up at you with his bottom lip disappeared in his mouth, eyes wide and dark. You swallow hard.

"Yes."

It was like you knew what he was going to say. You knew hitting it off with a teacher and using him sexually was wrong- he could probably be fired. But you were legal and this was consent. I mean, what wouldn't you do to this man? For a better grade? To not have to think of ways to fuck him when you look at him?

"You're going to suck me off. And then I will fuck you right here on my desk. Unless you prefer yours, but that's a little small for my purposes."

Hearing him say it so bluntly made your knees weak. You leaned forward to steady yourself, letting the space between you two disappear until your hot breathes mixed. His eyes were still wide and wary of your response.

He had given you the F on purpose. He knew you would come in and confront him about it and he knew you would do anything for a better grade. Your history teacher was a perv. And somehow you enjoyed it.

"What are you waiting for?" You finally said. He smirks up at you, eyes falling hooded as he pushes himself back from his desk, standing up and unlatching his belt from his pants, letting it fall to the floor with a clink.

You licked your lips, coming around to him and watching him pull down his pants, his cock springing free, already half hard. The atmosphere changed dramatically.

Before you weren't exactly sure. This was wrong. Now, staring at him like this, vulnerable, you wanted this.

As soon as he sat back at his desk, you were on your knees, licking the palm of your hand, and touching him. His breath hitched and his large hands came to tangle in your hair.

"(Y/N)." He was breathless already. You pumped him, up and down, squeezing gently and occasionally running your thumb over his tip. After five minutes he was completely hard and ready for your mouth.

Your eyes flickered up to his, seeing him watch you with dark low eyes and his mouth barely open. You smirked, licking a long slow stroke from the base up his shaft, kissing his tip.

Misha- Mr. Collins- groaned long and hard, grip in your hair tightening.

"Mr. Collins are you sure?" You made yourself sound innocent, readjusting your balance between his legs and holding onto his thighs.

"It's just Misha." He says under his voice. You smile wide and nod.

"Yes, Misha."

Without another word you leaned down, taking as much of him as you could.