asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-01-04 10:19 am
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-01-04 10:19 am
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]
We're about to reach the posting limit on pt.1&2, this is for those who wish to continue/write on prompts on both these parts.
Writers! It is your responsibility to link back to the original prompt.
There are no request in this part of the meme.
List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Discussion
Re: Detention (5/6)
(Anonymous) 2011-09-14 10:09 pm (UTC)(link)The 'not' was even worse than the 'will' as I felt Mr. Hastings' fingers move further down to unfasten my jeans. While I wore my pants loose, they weren't so loose that they would hit the ground the second they weren't being actively held up by my non-hips. I gasped as I felt teeth along the junction between shoulder and neck, nearly dropping the chalk in my hand.
“The next word is 'doodle,'” Mr. Hastings helpfully supplied, and I could feel his smirk along my hairline at the back of my neck.
I must have stood there, trying to take a full breath for too long for his liking. He shifted a knee between my thighs, and I could feel--holy shit! That... that was his... his... he was just as into this as I was. Maybe more so. The 'doodle on' was hastily written on the board as I moaned and pressed backwards against that hardness. Jesus fucking Christ on a fucking polar bear. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. I was going to wake up in the middle of class and have to deal with dried jizz on my junk for the rest of the day.
Yeah. Sure. That scribble I wrote on the board totally looked like 'desks.' Totally. As much as a word can look like 'desks' when your hot as hell history teacher had his rock hard cock pressing against your ass.
The 'I' of the next sentence may or may not have looked like a 'T,' but the way he was grinding against my ass like he would fuck me through my fucking jeans was just...
“You are hardly finished with that sentence, Desmond,” Mr. Hastings whispered into my ear, and holy fuck if I wasn't going to finish stupid quick if he kept doing that.
“It's kinda hard...” I started, and I nearly choked on my words as I felt his hand slide into my boxers.
“That it is.”
My brain took a moment to remind me just what the fuck was going on. I was writing sentences on the blackboard after school. My history teacher, who I would swear on any other day hated me to the point of making my senior year miserable, was pressed up against my ass, his cock hard enough to probably rip both his dress pants and my jeans. My shirt was hanging off my shoulders, and he was kissing my neck like it was his equivalent to breathing. Yeah. Just wanted to make sure I was getting all of this. Thanks, brain.
Re: Detention (5/6)
(Anonymous) 2011-09-14 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)WHERE IS PART SIX!
Well, now that I've got that out of my system...
*carries on like nothing happened*
Re: Detention (5/6)
(Anonymous) 2011-09-30 04:07 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Detention (5/6)
(Anonymous) 2011-10-02 05:43 am (UTC)(link)Re: Detention (6/6)
(Anonymous) 2011-10-02 04:03 pm (UTC)(link)“Am I now?” I heard him growl against the skin at the back of my neck. Did I say that last part out loud? Again?
“Fuck,” I groaned, gripping the chalk still in my hand tightly. I needed to brace myself against something, anything before I collapsed. Without thinking, I pressed the chalk-hand to the board, and couldn't help the small jump as I heard it snap.
“Not here, not now,” he breathed, his tongue flicking out to lick at the sweat that was gathering just under my hairline as I felt him grinding hard and kind of erratically against my jeans-clad ass.
Was that...? Was he trying to tell me that this could be more than a one time thing? Was I dreaming? Holy fucking shit in a flaming bag on a doorstep. Desmond fucking Miles was going to get laid... eventually.
And that thought was really all it took to get me groaning again. Seriously, there were no words. I had absolutely no words for how fucking amazing it felt to be jerked off against a fucking blackboard by the hottest teacher in school. His thrusts against my ass were pushing me harder into his grip, and I couldn't even really control the pace if I wanted to.
I didn't know how much time passed until I heard something other than panting and groaning against my neck. And those two words whispered through obviously gritting teeth were all it took for me.
“Ah, Desmond.”
I tried to bite back the loud sound as I felt a heat spread across my ass, Mr. Hastings grinding forward with some sort of British obscenity that I didn't catch breathed onto my skin. And there it was. My vision blacked out a little as I painted the bottom of the blackboard. I felt my knees waver a little, but a tightening grip on my hip brought me back to myself enough to lock my knees. We stood there for a moment before I felt him tuck my shit back into my pants.
“Well, then,” he said, pulling away to look at some of my spunk that had gotten on his hand.
“Yeah,” I replied intelligently as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off his hand.
“You're free to go, Mr. Miles,” he said, turning to walk back towards his desk.
What? That was it? I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm not like some kind of crazy cuddler or something, but...
“So that's it?” I couldn't keep it in.
He sat down at his desk, pulling a card from a drawer as he opened his record book. “Were you aware, Mr. Miles, that you are just barely passing my class?” What? How the hell does that matter when he totally just jerked me off against the fucking blackboard? “I believe you may benefit from additional assistance.” Maybe it was the post-fucking euphoria getting in the way, but what the fuck? “Here is the number for a tutor. I suggest you give him a call to schedule something.”
My surprise morphed into a frown as I snatched the card from his hand. With a look that I hoped was more angry than hurt, I looked at the card in my hand. I looked back up at Mr. Hastings, then back down again at the card.
Shawn Hastings, Ph.D.
Professional History Tutor
555.1212
Oh. Well, shit. Don't I feel like a complete dick?
“I'm sure I'll be hearing from you soon, Desmond.” The grin on his face made my dick twitch.
“Yeah,” I replied, mind racing. It was too much to process at once, especially with my dick deciding to let me know that he was totally interested in going again, just from the way Mr. Hastings said my fucking name. I quickly grabbed my backpack and opened the classroom door, looking back over my shoulder. “I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Hastings.”
“Tomorrow, Mr. Miles. And please make sure you're on time. I wouldn't want detention to become a habit of yours.” There was a knowing smile on his face and I couldn't help but stare.
“On time. Got it,” I replied with a returning smile, ducking through the doorway and closing the door behind me. As I walked down the hallway, I wondered just how many detentions you could get and still be allowed to graduate.
Re: Detention (6/6)
(Anonymous) 2011-10-02 04:17 pm (UTC)(link)I absolutely love how Shaun has business cards for tutoring. Clever way to give someone your number. >:3
writeranon here
(Anonymous) 2011-10-04 01:54 am (UTC)(link)Re: writeranon here
(Anonymous) 2011-10-04 02:37 am (UTC)(link)If I could write porn, I'd offer to fill a prompt of you choice. But I can't write porn to save my life.
Re: Detention (6/6) OP
(Anonymous) 2011-10-10 05:43 am (UTC)(link)Re: Detention (6/6) OP
(Anonymous) 2011-10-12 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)And yes, you totally popping my AC cherry. <3
Re: Detention (6/6)
(Anonymous) 2011-10-12 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)i love this fic--made me both laugh and choke on my drink c: