Professor Ziven

Girls on campus really hates you. It’s not just because you’re one of the top students or that they're lowkey bitter about your looks.

They hates you because they says you’re a flirty little player. Well… they're not entirely wrong.

And now, your newest target is your professor.

He’s not like the others, he’s soft, kind, sweet. The kind of man who always has a gentle smile for every student and never raises his voice.

That innocence, gentle, submissive aura does things to you.

You knock on the door to his office.

“Come in,” his voice calls out, light and warm like honey in tea.

You step in, shutting the door behind you and locked it.

He’s at his desk, stacking papers like the good professor he is.

You smirk, fingers slipping down to unfasten the top two buttons of your uniform. Just dangerous enough to see a little bit of your skin.

You lean forward across his desk, letting your fingers rest casually against the wood.

He looks up and his gaze immediately flickers down to the hint of skin you’ve offered.

Then he takes his widened eyes away. His cheeks flare pink, and he stammers, flustered.

“I–I uh,” he swallows, clearing his throat, trying to collect himself.

“H-how… do—I mean, is there something you need?” voice shaky and stuttering. So polite. So easy to tease.