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Mr. Valeska

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You sat in the back row of the lecture hall, typing away furiously on your laptop as your professor Jeremiah Valeska talked about the upcoming project in the class. Your nails clacking against the keyboard and his monotonous voice were the only sounds that reached your ears as you diligently took notes. Even though you had pulled another all-nighter and your veins were practically filled with coffee at this point, you sat up straight in your chair and leaned forward. Your eyes never once strayed from the redheaded man pointing to past examples of designs taped up on the board.

Jeremiah Valeska was one of the most renowned professors at Gotham College of Architecture and Design. Even though he was young to have already made such a name for himself in his profession (he was in his mid-twenties), he was well known for being commissioned to redesign the Wayne Enterprises building in uptown Gotham and creating the world’s most challenging indoor labyrinth. It was practically impossible to navigate without having a map of the layout. When you first heard you were going to take a class from him, you were extremely excited, but a good amount nervous as well. You had looked up to him and respected his work for years.

Now, you’ve had him as a professor for a good while, and he lived up to his name. He wasn’t without his narcissistic and egotistical moments, but you could imagine being hailed as an architectural genius and a prodigy probably got to your head. Overall, he was a good teacher and you enjoyed learning from him. He inspired you, and even when the college workload was overwhelming for you sometimes, he reminded you why you had chosen this career in the first place.

“You can turn in your designs to me from now until next Friday. Any late work will automatically get a zero, and please remember that this project counts for fifteen percent of your final grade.” He glanced down at the thick leather watch around his wrist. “Class dismissed.”

The other students in the lecture hall stood from their seats, shoving their laptops into their bags. You followed suit before walking down the stairs, keeping your head low. Jeremiah walked over to his desk, and some of the girls in the class crowded around him as they usually did after every lesson. They asked him questions as they batted their lashes and bit their bottom lips, clearly infatuated. You weren’t surprised. He was the youngest professor in the college and didn’t have a ring on his finger, which automatically made him the most sought after.

He answered their questions to the best of his ability before shooing them away with a wave of his hand. They headed for the exit, shoulders slumped and frowning in disappointment. You hugged some textbooks you were carrying for some other classes close to your chest and trailed after them. You were just about to duck out of the lecture hall when Jeremiah’s clear voice came from behind you.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), could I talk to you for a moment?”

You spun around on your heel to face him. “I’m sorry I haven’t turned in my project yet,” you blurted. “I’m taking my time on it.” You were quick to close the distance between you two, walking over to his desk.

Confusion flitted over his face for a moment before he chuckled. “That’s all right. I did say you had until next Friday, didn’t I?”

You mentally cursed yourself for jumping to conclusions. You had been so on edge recently. You were attending Gotham College for Architecture and Design on a full tuition scholarship, and although you were grateful, the requirements for maintaining that scholarship were high. You had to have an A- or above in every class, and adhering to that standard kept you busy.

He leaned back against his desk. “I know you probably have another class to get to, but I just wanted to give you the recognition you’re owed. You’re a very talented and hardworking student, one of the best I’ve had in a long time.”

The corners of your lips tugged upwards into a radiant smile at his words. “Thank you, Mr. Valeska.” You felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders at hearing one of your idols praise you. You thought he barely knew you were in his class at all. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Well, you have a bright future ahead of you.” He pushed off of his desk and stepped closer to you. “Why don’t we talk about it over a cup of coffee later? All that the future has in store for you.”

He was so close to you now, you could feel the warmth radiating off of his body. The scent of his aftershave mingling with his cologne was overwhelming and invaded your senses. Your breath hitched. He couldn’t be insinuating what you thought he was. Was your mind playing tricks on you, or was your architecture professor actually asking you out?

You smiled at him sheepishly. “Oh, I don’t know...”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Please, it would be my treat.”

“I have kind of a tight schedule.” You nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

His lips curled into a smirk. “I’m sure you do.” Something about his tone sent shivers down your spine. “I bet it gets lonely, being a straight A student and all.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, his gaze boring into you. “I could make you a little less lonely.”

Goosebumps raised on your skin at his gentle touch. So your suspicions were confirmed. You had to admit, he was attractive. His pale skin complimented his red hair, and his round glasses accentuated the crystal blue of his irises. It was easy to see why so many of his students fell for him. But he was your professor; you had never thought of him as anything more. And you could only imagine what would happen to your scholarship if you went out with your professor, let alone the damage to your reputation.

You stepped out of his grasp. “I... don’t think that’s appropriate, Mr. Valeska.”

You dared to raise your head to find him looming over you, his eyes locked with yours. There was something dark lurking in the murky depths of his eyes. His lips pressed into a straight line, and his jaw ticked. A single vein creased the otherwise smooth, creamy skin of his forehead, and your jaw dropped at how fast his pulse was racing. For a second, it looked like he was going to snap, and you would be in even worse trouble than if you had just accepted his offer of a harmless, little coffee date. But then, he took a step back, and his expression softened.

“Yes, I suppose that was a little out of line of me.” To your surprise, his tone sounded as cool and even as it always did. He smoothed the fabric of his purple button up out with his hands. “I hope I didn’t cause you any discomfort.”

You let out a sigh of relief, your body going lax. You hadn’t even realized you had become so tense. “You didn’t. I... better get going before I’m late.” You backed away shyly. “I’ll see you next class, Mr. Valeska.”

“Goodbye, Ms. (Y/L/N). I meant what I said. You’re one of my smartest students; you always make the right decisions.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a small smile coming over his face. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with for your design.”

You hurried out of the lecture hall without another word and spent the next week working on your project. You spent every free moment you had on it, staying up all night and waking up early in the morning to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. One slip up was all it would take to cost you your scholarship, so there was no room for error. You didn’t have many friends, but you’d much rather spend nights holed up in your dorm room studying than going to parties. You were sure your roommate thought you were a ghost. However, you did find yourself every now and then missing out on the desired college lifestyle. Jeremiah was right about one thing: being a straight A student was lonely.

You handed your project in the last day it was due, brimming with pride. You had a good feeling about it. After working on it for so long and all of Jeremiah’s words to you, you were sure you were going to earn a good grade.

“All right, class.” It was a week later, and Jeremiah stood at the front of the lecture hall, his arms full of blueprints. “I’ve finished grading your projects, and I’ll pass them back to you, as long as I don’t get any questions about your grades. If you have any complaints, you can see me after class.”

He went down the rows, handing each student their design. You scanned their faces as they looked down to assess their grades. Some of them twisted their lips into a frown, some smiled smugly to themselves, and some maintained blank expressions. You were in the very back row by yourself as usual, so you were the last one to get your project. You smiled at Jeremiah as he approached you, but he barely looked at you as he set your design down in front of you. He turned away and walked back to the front of the class.

You furrowed your brow. Odd. But who would Jeremiah Valeska be if he wasn’t odd? You looked down at the square sheet of graph paper in front of you. It was placed face down, and you turned it over. Your eye was immediately drawn to the number written in red pen on top and circled twice.


Wait, you couldn’t have read that right. You squinted at the paper as you looked at it again, but it was still there, written in neat handwriting. How was this possible? You had slaved over this project, poured hour after hour of work into it. It may not have been perfect, but there was no way it was deserving of a thirty-one percent.

You could feel panic rising inside of you as realization settled in. If this was in fact your grade, that meant you had failed, and this project made up fifteen percent of your total grade, which meant that you could get perfect scores on the rest of your assignments and still not get an A- for the year, which meant that you would lose your scholarship...

Oh, my God. He was punishing you for not going out with him.

Your hands curled into clenched fists, any dread you had before replaced by unadulterated rage. Jeremiah had moved onto a new lesson, but you were too in a daze to pay attention. Your brain was flooded with multiple emotions at once. How could he abuse his power like this? And just because you hadn’t returned his advances? How childish could he be?

You were so absorbed in your thoughts, you didn’t notice everyone else around you getting out of their seats. You shook yourself out of your trance and stood up, gathering your belongings. You waited until the other students filed out of the door to charge towards Jeremiah. You tugged on the strap of your messenger bag and slammed your project onto his desk in front of him.

“What the hell is this?” you seethed through gritted teeth.

He looked up from where he was typing away on his laptop. “Your grade, Ms. (Y/L/N).” He feigned oblivion. “I thought that would be obvious.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I know that’s my grade, but I put a lot of effort into this project.” You gestured down to the red print on the graph paper. “There is no way I could’ve earned this.”

He pushed the frames of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and glanced down at your project. “Well, for starters, all of the measurements are incorrect.”

You clenched your jaw. “That’s impossible.” You had checked those measurements ten times over.

“Maybe take this as a life lesson, Ms. (Y/L/N). We don’t always get what we think we deserve.” He flashed you a forced smile before focusing back on his laptop screen.

You didn’t move as he resumed typing. You stayed glued to the spot, eyes burning a whole in him. Your voice sliced through the silence that had enveloped you, “Is this because I didn’t go on a date with you?”

His hands froze, his long, thin fingers hovering over the keys. “That’s a bold accusation, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

“Well, this is a big deal. I could lose my scholarship.” You shifted your weight onto your other foot. “I would hate to have to report you to the administration.”

He spun around in his desk chair to face you at last, cracking an amused smirk. “You’re going to report one of the faculty’s most highly revered professors for giving you a bad grade over a conversation that may or may not have happened?”

Hearing it out loud, you realized how ridiculous it sounded. Jeremiah had a spotless reputation. If it came down to your word against his, and you knew it would, no way would they believe you over him. They would just take you for a silly, little college girl who was miffed about not getting everything handed to her on a silver platter.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine, you win. I’ll write more papers, I’ll clean your office, whatever it takes. I just can’t lose my scholarship. I’ll do anything.”

He pressed his hands against the arms of his chair and rose to his feet. You took a sharp breath as he towered over you. “Anything?” His tone was abnormally deep.

You hesitated before nodding your head. He raised his hand to run his cold fingertips over your chin. You stiffened under his touch, tingles shooting down your spine. He leaned down so his lips were right next to your ear.

“You can show how much of a good girl you are for your professor by getting on your knees,” he purred, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he spoke.

Your lips parted in shock. You raised your head to meet his eyes, and let out a quiet gasp at what you saw. His pupils were blown wide with lust, his irises reduced to mere rims like the eyes of a shark when it smells blood in the water. The blue of his eyes had darkened to the shade of the murky depths of the ocean, or the cloudy sky during a thunderstorm. His touch was just as electric.

You took a step back, causing his fingers to leave your chin. “You can’t be serious...” You hated how small your voice sounded.

He dropped his arm to his side. “Why not? You said you were willing to do anything.”

“You’re forcing me to suck you off so I don’t lose my scholarship,” you stated bluntly.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything.” His tone was cold and unfeeling and emotionless. “I’m offering you a choice. What you choose is up to you.”

Yeah, and some kind of choice it is. You took your bottom lip between your teeth. You didn’t really have any other option. “And if I do go through with it...”

“I promise to change your grade to a hundred percent for the project, therefore saving your grade,” he offered. “But that all depends on you.” He was back in your space again, pushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face and cupping your cheek. “Now do you want to be my good girl?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip anxiously. Mustering what was left of your dignity, you nodded, and within an instant, his lips were on yours. Your eyes widened in surprise. He moved his lips against yours, and your nerve endings were set on fire. You wished you could say that you despised the kiss, but you found yourself enjoying the way his soft, warm lips felt on yours. You fluttered your eyes closed and parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. You quickly relinquished dominance and let him control the kiss.

He pulled away and gazed down at you. You were flushed and out of breath, your lips red and swollen. You felt your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment at how obvious it was that you had enjoyed kissing him. “I don’t do this with my students, you know.” He ran his thumb over your cheek. “But there’s something special about you. I just can't put my finger on it,” he grinned, “but I will.”

He moved his hands to rest on your shoulders and pressed down. You let him and fell to your knees in front of him. You stared up at him wearily as he pulled down the zipper on his pants. He pulled his cock out of his pants, and you blinked. He was already hard and easily the biggest you had ever seen. You had no idea how you were supposed to fit all of him in your mouth.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Go ahead, Ms. (Y/L/N).” He moved forward so the head of his cock poked your lips. “Don’t just stare at it.”

You let out a small sigh. Let’s get this over with. You reluctantly stuck out your tongue to taste him, his precum coating your tastebuds. You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock. You closed your eyes, listening as his breath caught in his throat. You wrapped your lips around him and set a slow pace as you bobbed up and down on his length.

“Use your hand, Ms. (Y/L/N).” His voice was strained and breathy. You did as he said and wrapped your fingers around the base of his shaft. You worked your way down his length and pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand. “Look at me.” Your eyes snapped open at his command, and you looked up to see him leering down at you. You made it about halfway down his cock before you felt the back of your throat closing up. You stayed content with this until Jeremiah said, “Relax your throat.”

You took a deep breath through your nose and tried to listen to his instructions. You moved down a little farther, but immediately regretted it when you felt your gag reflex acting up. You pulled back, but before you could get him out of your mouth, he threaded his fingers through your hair. He yanked you down his length at the same time he thrust into your mouth, shoving more of him down your throat than you were used to. You gagged, your throat painfully constricting around his cock, and pushed at his hips to get away from him. He easily ignored your efforts, however, and fucked your mouth at a rapid pace.

“That’s it,” he groaned, leaning his head back. “I knew you were a fast learner. Oh!” he exclaimed as he fully sheathed himself inside of your mouth, burying your nose in the nest of pubic hair at the base of his shaft.

Your jaw ached desperately, and your throat burned as he stuffed his cock into your mouth. His fingers held your hair so tightly as he tugged your head up and down his length, you were sure he would tear some strands from your scalp. Tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes and spilled down your cheeks, mixing with the blend of saliva and precum dribbling from your chin. You wanted to cry or scream, but any noise you made came out as a gurgle around his cock. You sucked in breaths of air through your nose, but it wasn’t enough to fill your lungs. Black dots started to form over your vision, and you prayed he finished before you passed out. You felt like a sex doll being used and abused all for his pleasure.

Finally, he pulled you off of his length, and you gasped for air. You sat back on your heels, whimpering softly. You hadn’t expected him to treat you so roughly. Panic and confusion filled you once again, however, when you realized his hand was still in your hair and he hadn’t cum yet.

“You didn’t think that was all I wanted, did you?” He pulled you to your feet by your hair, and you yelped. He untangled his hand from your hair only to shove you so you bent over the edge of his desk.

“Jeremiah, stop!” You pressed your hands flat against his desk and tried to push yourself up, but he pinned you down with one hand on your back.

“That’s Mr. Valeska to you,” he growled. He made quick work of your jeans and panties, pulling them down your legs. They fell to your ankles, leaving you completely exposed to him. “Don’t you want to work for your grade, Ms. (Y/L/N)?”

You glanced nervously at the door to the lecture hall out of the corner of your eye. It was still unlocked. Anyone could enter or walk by and see your architecture professor fucking you on his desk. “What if someone hears us?” you said, hoping he would come to his senses.

Your hopes were squashed, however, when you felt him line up with your entrance. “Better be quiet, then.”

He pushed into you much deeper than you were ready for, and you hissed like a pissed off cat. Your walls painfully constricted around the foreign member penetrating you. “Ow!” you whined. “You’re hurting me!”

He didn’t let up. “You’ll get used to taking me.” You didn't like the intention behind his statement, but he impaled you again, and your mind went fuzzy like tv static.

He wasted no time rutting into you at an inhumanly fast pace, stretching your pussy with each snap of his hips against yours. Your body jolted, and you grabbed onto the lip of the desk to steady yourself, your knuckles turning white. The noise of your bodies banging against the desk in time with his thrusts, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, and his animalistic grunts echoed in the spacious lecture hall. A bump against the desk sent his coffee mug hurtling over the side, shattering into a thousand ceramic pieces and staining the white tile with dark brown liquid. He didn’t seem to care. Your head fell limp on the desk as the harsh treatment of your pussy continued, and you found yourself staring down at your project. Your cheek stuck to it, and leftover saliva on your chin besmirched the otherwise stark graph paper.

He leaned over so his chest was pressed against your back, your ribs digging into the desk with every thump. “Tell me how it feels,” he whispered right into your ear.

You arched your back against him and threw your head back. “So... so good!” Your voice sounded strange to your own ears. It was high-pitched and wracked with pleasure.

“So good what?” He reached around to rub your clit at the same pace he pounded into you.

You felt the beginning of a painful orgasm twisting in the pit of your stomach. “So good, Mr. Valeska!” Your volume increased, and so did the intensity in your gut. A few more thrusts, and you were done for. Your pussy clenched down on his cock as he forced an orgasm out of you, a high-pitched wail escaping your raw throat.

His fingers dug into your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, leaving bruises you were sure you would see in the mirror later. You felt his hips hinder as he exploded inside of you, painting your walls with his seed. He let out a low groan, hunching his shoulders and curving his spine. He thrust into you a few more times to get all of his cum out before pulling out of you.

With him no longer holding you up, your knees buckled, and you collapsed on top of the desk, your limbs limp and lifeless. Your chest heaved up and down, and your body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Your matted, greasy hair clung to your forehead, and your face was coated with dried up saliva and tears. You felt absolutely used to the fullest extent, but also somehow satisfied as you came down from your high.

“You definitely earned your A, Ms. (Y/L/N).” Jeremiah’s voice was soft as he rubbed gentle circles over your clit, sending pleasurable aftershocks rippling through you. You felt his cum drip out of your pussy and run down your thighs. “I look forward to working with you more in the future.”

Your ears pricked up, and you lifted your head off of the desk, despite how your sore muscles ached in complaint. “I thought this was the only time.” You looked at him over your shoulder.

“Not if you want to keep your good grade, it’s not.” He fixed his slightly askew glasses before leaning forward and pecking your cheek. “But you made the right choice. You certainly are my brightest student.”