#professor geto

Pairing: Geto Suguru x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary:Instead of saying good job, good work, or even thank you Professor Geto always tells his intrepid assistant ‘good girl’. After three straight years of hearing the phrase you’d think you would be used to it, but as you are coming close to graduating from your grad program your ability to handle such a simple phrase wanes. In his office, where you’ve spent hours, together the cord finally snaps and you make an impulsive decision you hope you don’t regret.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, Cunnilingus, Vaginal fingering, Vaginal Sex, Blow job, unprotected sex, Legal Age gap (reader is 25), Professor AU, non curse AU

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You came into his office bringing in the clean sweet smell of your perfume and the cocoa butter on your skin. You’ve been Geto’s assistant for three years so he assures himself it’s not odd to be accustomed to the smell of your perfumes. You have two for everyday, and at least one other one for special occasions. In the winter there’s a sweet gourmand scent like vanilla cream soda. It’s pleasant with a bit of spice to keep the scent from being sickeningly sweet. In the summer you wear a cleaner scent, that lets the cocoa butter on your skin take center stage with the more flowery fresh scents in the background. It’s nice. He breathes it in as you lean over him to set down print outs he asked for. 

“That’s Monday’s quiz, and because I’m awesome I also graded the last quiz for you since you’re a little behind.” 

“You’re not supposed to grade quizzes,” he chided lightly, taking the graded quizzes from you. 

“You can check over my judgment. It’ll be faster than doing it all yourself. Plus, most of it was multiple choice anyway. There was just one essay question and it’s philosophy 100. Have a little faith in me.” 

“And the research I asked for?” he asked without looking up. 

“I emailed the links and citations because I figured it would be easier. Plus, I’ve put in interlibrary requests for some of the texts because I know you prefer physical copies.”

“Hm, good girl,” he praised, cutting his eyes up at you for a moment. That moment, mixed with his words was enough to make you want to melt. 

This was your third year as Professor Suguru Geto’s teacher’s assistant and you were about to lose your mind. When you enrolled in grad school at this university you knew you’d need to get work study hours, and you searched far and wide for a position that fit. When you found Dr. Geto, it felt like a dream come true. You’d only minored in Philosophy and Religion. You majored in Sociology, something that relied quite a bit on understanding abstract concepts that couldn’t quite be tested and it prepared you for the heavy burden of finding citations for Geto, grading quizzes, and generally doing whatever he asked of you. It started out as a simple job… but with two devastating words he changed everything, “Good girl.” Instead of saying “good job” or “well done” or even a simple “Thank you” this man said “Good girl” in his velvet smooth voice when he was pleased with you. The first time you heard him say it, you thought you were going to melt. You broke out into a sweat, and your heart pounded like crazy. You might have even giggled like an inexperienced school girl. Hearing it one time made you want to hear it again. 

Look you usually weren’t so depraved but Dr. Geto was hot. And well, he was kind of hard not to like. After three years sitting in an office with him, reading over scholarly texts, exchanging thoughts, making witty jokes it was hard not to regard him as something other than just your boss. He never put that kind of weight on a working relationship, and more than once he’d spoken candidly to give you advice. 

Either way, when he said “Good girl” this time you don’t giggle but you do flush, something you hope he can’t discern from your skintone. Its unlikely, but your skin feels exceptionally hot. It doesn’t help that he has his forearms out, or that his hair is up in a hastily formed bun that looked seconds from falling. He must have been fussing with it absently. It’s a habit he has that you find charming. When he’s thinking he’ll run his hands through his hair and if he’s got it in a bun then he sort of rakes his fingers into it, gradually loosening the hairtie’s hold on the inky black strands.

“Dr. Geto,” you addressed and then cleared your throat as your voice came out a bit thick due to the things on your mind. He hummed to prompt you to continue, turning his face slightly towards you as he looked at the papers in front of him. 

You continued, “So as you know, I’m graduating this year-”

He made a sound of disappointment, “Please, don’t remind me. I’ve been trying to forget.” 

You smiled at that and you had to bite your lip to keep from full on cheesing, “Sorry to remind you, but I wanted to ask for a letter of recommendation from you. There’s this job in the city that I’ve got my eyes on, and I think I word from such an esteemed and respect professor might up my chances.”

He cut his eyes over to you, “No need to butter me up, you know I’ll do it for you.” 

“Thank you, I’ll email you more information about the position. You’ve got a few months to get it done. I know everyone comes asking for letters of rec at the end of the year so I tried to get ahead of the curve.” 

“Always so conscientious. That’ll be in the letter. She truly thinks of everything before you even have a chance to ask.” He rested his chin on the bridge of his fingers as he looked at you now. You laughed as his gaze made you shy. He continued, “For the record I don’t write very many letters of recommendations. Very few students perform to the standards necessary for me to gloat about them. But you, I could write volumes about you.” 

“Alright, Dr. Geto, no need to butter me up. I’ll take a trip to the mailroom for you if that’s what you want.” 

He straightened up a bit, “Oh, would you? I’m sure the damn box is already full.” 

“Dr. Gojo keeps sending you program pamphlets?” 

“You know it,” he sighed, and he released you from the near petrifying effects of his gaze. You hurried out of the office to get your head on straight. Something about the way he said “I could write volumes about you.” had your heart sprinting like you were on the last stretch of a marathon. 

Geto raked his fingers through his hair once you were out of the room wondering why he had said that as well. You were smiling at him as he heaped on the praise and the tips of your ears were red, a charming attribute he’d noticed for the first time last year when you had your hair pulled up. He liked how you looked when you were bashful, and that only happened when he heaped on the praise. Though, he hadn’t lied at all in his praises. He doubted he’d ever stumble upon a TA as good as you again. He was more organized than he was for even his first year as a professor. He knew you’d excel wherever you went, but he was still sad to see you go. He really had been trying to forget that you graduated soon. You came back with his mail which was mostly things from his best friend and colleague, Gojo. He was traveling at the moment, and had the awful habit of sending pamphlets from all of the conferences he went to. The weird moment from before seemed all but forgotten and so you sat at a separate table in his office doing your usual load of work before you left for the day. You told him to have a nice weekend on your way out. 

Geto was no stranger to working weekends. It happened all the time as the year began to wind down. His crisis today was that he couldn’t find the one of the files you said you sent over… which was more than likely his fault because sometimes he put things in nonsense places on his computer. He really needed to get this work in today, and though he rarely ever contacted you on the weekends this was an emergency. He took out his phone to send a quick text, and then started looking over the quizzes you graded to bide the time until you answered. Maybe thirty minutes later there was a knock on his door. He called for them to come in. 

“Hey, of course you’re the only one working on a Saturday,” you laughed as you came in. He looked up to say something witty about his diligence but when he looked at you his words died in his mouth. He had always considered you to be a well dressed young woman, but more than that, you were modestly dressed, which he guessed made sense because he saw you during working hours. This outfit wasn’t exactly scandalous, but the plaid skirt you wore stopped at about mid thigh and there was a sliver of your thigh exposed before over-the-knee socks covered the rest of your leg. 

He cleared his throat, “I hope I didn’t take you away from an engagement. You could have emailed me.” 

You waved him off as you came around his desk, with your eyes on his computer, “No, you actually saved me from a good awful lunch date. I needed this excuse.” 

He moved aside a bit as you went towards the computer. You bent down to grab the mouse and as he inhaled he smelled that perfume that you used for special occasions. It was light and sweet, the kind of smell that would linger for a bit even after you moved away. 

 “Oh, then you’re welcome. Any time,” he said. 

You laughed, “The dating pool is awful for my generation. I mean God, you’d think we were asking men to jump on a sword for us to prove their love. I asked this guy what he did for a living and he started ranting about gold diggers.”  

“Well, I’m afraid it’s not better for people my age either.” 

You turned to give him an amused little smirk, “Oh? So you worry about women who are after your money too?… Well at least your money is real.” 

He laughed, “I’m sure some men do, but i’m not overly worried about that kind of thing. I work too much. I think you see me more than anyone else besides my students.” 

“Lucky me,” you laughed, going back to looking at the files on his computer. You were trying to steady your heart. Hopefully he couldn’t hear how loud it was beating. It was deeply embarrassing just how much a few kind words for him could set you off. You could thank a childhood of being your father’s biggest disappointment for your reaction. He didn’t understand what you did or how you could make money from it. On the flip side, he didn’t really care to know what you did. Now the big question was when you were going to get married.

“A bit late in the semester to be dating. Did you give your thesis to your mentor?” 

You nodded, “Yep, did that yesterday evening. I think I’m pretty much done. I’ve got time, don’t worry. Not that it matters now. I’m going to have a lot of time with me and my cat for the foreseeable future…. Oh! Here it is. I knew I could find it.” 

He looked at the screen to see the document pulled up on screen. You stood straight and began to move away. 

“They say you find someone when you stop looking,” Geto said. 

You paused to look at him, still on the same side of the desk as him, “How’s that working out for you?” 

He laughed ruefully, “Well, I’m still a bachelor.” 

You nodded, “So by that logic you’re still looking.” 

He shrugged, “You’re young though. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of options.”

You leaned back against his desk, sitting on the edge of it. Geto was leaned back in his chair and facing you. He wasn’t in his usual button up and slacks, because he obviously had no intentions of teaching today. Instead he wore a black t-shirt that showed off just how muscular he was, and the tattoo on his left upper arm was peeking out of the sleeve. You’d seen him like this before so it wasn’t the shock to your system that the first time had been. Still, he was hot. Especially with his hair half up. The natural waves in his hair made the ends stick out at random. You wondered if that was his way of calling you beautiful, to say that you must have many options. 

“It’s not a lack of options, it’s a lack of quality in those options. I’m only 25 but I just feel way too old for the stuff that people do while they’re dating.” 

“I hate to break it to you, but age isn’t what’s in your way. It’s just people. It’s hard to find people who use common sense.” 

“People like you and me?” you asked in jest. 

“Mmhm, because we’re both two perfectly sane people who study cults on the weekdays.” 

You threw your head back as you laughed. In looking at your smile he was reminded of something. 

“Oh, I meant to give you something yesterday, but I forgot,” he said, standing from his chair. You leaned back against his desk a bit more to maintain personal space without moving. He grabbed an ornate cover and your heart dropped a little. There was one book you’d been lusting after in his collection for years. He had a collector’s edition of Kafka’s The Metamorphosis and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. He turned with it in his hand and gave it to you. 

“For putting up with me for three years,” he said with a sheepish smile. 

Your jaw was on the floor, “No way, you can’t give gifts now!” 

“I’ll forget during finals week. The best time is now. Take it, I’ve seen how much love goes into your personal library. I trust it will be in good hands.” 

“This is too much.” 

“It’s one of your favorites. Take it. I insist.” 

You held the book to your chest and met his gaze, “Thank you, professor. This means a lot to me. And for what it’s worth, I really loved working with you.” 

“It was truly a pleasure. You’ve set the bar impossibly high for the next T.A. I don’t know how I’ll survive without you.” 

You sighed, “I wish you would have let me interview another student.” 

“You had enough on your plate. Stop complaining and be happy about your gift.” he scolded lightly. 

You huffed a little then looked down to admire the gold foil lettering on the book. 

“Good girl, now I won’t keep you here,” he began but trailed off as you looked up at him. 

He was so close to you. The space behind his desk was limited, it was inevitable, but you could literally feel the warmth radiating off of him, you could smell his cologne, and then he just had to go and say that to you. You tipped forward getting off the desk in one swift impulsive moment and you kissed him. No sooner had you done it, did the mortification over what you’d done dawn on you. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you jerked away from him. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

Geto was still standing there, his face was red and he looked a bit dazed. 

“I am so sorry, Dr. Geto, I value our relationship far too much to do something like that I-” you cut off as he kissed you again, his hand coming to rest  against your cheek. His mouth was soft yet insistent on yours, and despite your earlier rambling, you relaxed into the kiss easily, letting his tongue into your mouth. Your brain felt a bit fuzzy and you couldn’t even begin to think rationally about the situation, not when he brought  his other hand up to hold your waist. You opened your legs to let him move in closer and kiss you deeper. How many times had you looked at Geto’s lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss them? Now you were feeling it and you never wanted to stop kissing him, consequences be damned. 

You moaned as his hand flexed against your waist and he pulled away to look at you. Your whole body was hot. You pulled in deep steadying breaths. You knew what he would say, He would tell you this was inappropriate, that the two of you should not be doing this, and you would have to cease contact. That was the responsible thing to do. You can’t look him in the eyes. This is bad, this is really really bad. 

“Look at me,” Geto said softly, his hand still on your cheek, but now he was lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. You slowly brought your gaze up to meet his. He peered down at you with something like amusement. 

“I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly. 

“Well, that’s a shame because I’m not.”

You were holding your book to your chest peering up at him with so much bewilderment in those wide innocent eyes. The sight of you made him chuckle.

“Perhaps set the book aside,” he suggested and you did what he said without taking your eyes off of him. He set his hands on the desk on either side of your body, so that he could lean in close to you comfortably. 

“Can I have another kiss?” he asked.

You thought you were going to pass out. Things like this literally only happened in your dreams. Still, you weren’t going to shatter the mirage. You nodded, eyes flicking down to look at his lips. You closed your eyes just before your lips met. The moment his lips were on yours that same fevered impulse driven mix of emotions was coursing through your veins. Your body felt like a livewire, and every touch sizzled through your body. Your legs were still open allowing him to get in close. His hands started at your knees then began to slide up the outsides of your thighs. It was all you could do to be still. His hands were warm, and large, encompassing a good portion of your thighs. As he got closer to the apex of your legs you found yourself pulling him in closer. 

“I hardly took you for this kind of girl,” he murmured against your lips, “I thought you were a good girl.” 

“I am,” the words were out of your mouth before you could think about them, and he didn’t give you time to be mortified by them. He pressed his lips to your pulse point. Your hands gripped the soft cotton t-shirt he wore, hugging him close as he licked and sucked right under your jaw. You whined a quiet moan in spite of your best attempt to keep it down. 

“You want more?” he asked, rubbing up and down your thighs, as if to soothe you but the action did anything but soothe you. What you would give to have him bend you over this desk. You were nearly done at this university anyway.  

“Yes.” 

“Tell me to stop and I’ll let up,” he said on a heavy breath.  You pulled back to look at his face. There was still a heavy blush on his face painting his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. You nodded and his hands continued up towards your sex. He rubbed you through your panties, teasing your clit with firm strokes through the material.

“Please.” 

“Mmhm,” he hummed, “That’s it, ask nicely.” 

“Please,” you repeated, not completely sure of what you were even asking for. You needed him to touch you, to make you feel good, whatever that meant for him you would take it.

“What do you want? Hm, talk to me.” he said in your ear. 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

“I will,” he promised, “but first, let’s see how good you can be for me.” He suddenly moved away from you, grabbing his desk chair and sitting down in it. You wondered at his purpose until he was right between your legs. He opened your legs, fingers skimming across the fabric of your thigh-high socks. He leaned down to kiss right above the tights before inching in closer. Your breath hitched in anticipation when he was as high up as he could go without touching your sex. But then he simply switched legs, giving your other thigh the same treatment. You were reclined back on your palms watching him with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. When his mouth finally touched your center it was through your panties. He opened his mouth to set his tongue right against your clothed sex. The warmth of his mouth made you shudder, and the slow saturation of your panties felt down right sinful. 

“Professor,” you breathed. 

He hummed, and began to move his tongue, dragging the hard point of it between your lips, pushing your panties in with it. He teased you like that, giving you the smallest taste of the friction you wanted. 

“Please, please, I need more. Please give me more,” you whined quietly. It was only for his ears. 

He pulled away and the wetness of your panties immediately began to cool, “You sound so pretty when you beg for me. Don’t worry, good girls get whatever they want.” He hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down your legs. You did your best to get one leg out of them. The moment one leg was free he was right back on you. He swept his tongue between your slit just to get a taste. You fell back on the desk. Your head hung off but you didn’t mind. Not at the moment, anyway. He was tasting you, exploring your sex with his tongue. You tensed as you felt his tongue dip into your entrance. 

When he finally decided to stop playing with you, he latched onto your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves. You tried to close your thighs but the chair was in the way. The moment he realized what you were trying to do he grabbed your thighs and held them open as he ate you out like a man starved. You clamped a hand over your mouth as you tried to keep from benign too loud. Only choked off moans escaped you, and they weren’t loud enough to be heard from outside. He didn’t seem interested in letting up at all, because pretty soon he was slipping a finger inside of you, crooking it upwards looking for your spot. When he found it your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you had to bite the meat of your palm to quiet yourself. Beyond the wet sounds of his mouth against your sex and your own heavy breathing there were the small deep sounds of satisfaction the Geto made in your sex. Men had gone down on you before, but it always felt like a means to an end, like they were rushing through this part just so they could get inside of you.

Geto seemed utterly enraptured. He added another finger and your hips lifted up involuntarily. He moaned again, pulling back just enough to speak, “That’s it. Be a good girl and rub this pretty little pussy on my mouth.” 

You gasped, sitting up on your elbows to anchor you so you could do as he asked of you. You put your hand in his hair tentatively, and it was only the fact that he moaned that made you push his head closer to you as you rolled your hips, taking the pleasure you desired from him. He scissored his fingers, stretching you as your body climbed higher and higher. You were open mouthed and panting as your body started to tingle, muscles locking down as he pulled your orgasm out of you. Your orgasm stole your breath away. You couldn’t have made a sound if you wanted to. Your legs shook and the moment you could breathe again you were too busy panting to get anything more than a few soft sounds out.  He eased up on your clit, enjoying the feeling of your pussy clamping down at random intervals on his fingers. His cock twitched in anticipation. He didn’t think he could hold out any longer. He undid his belt and took himself out of his pants so that he could stroke himself at the sight of you. Using your wetness to lubricate his activities. 

As you came back down from your high, you sat up to look at Geto. You thought now would be the part where you had to explain yourself. You had to come up with some excuse for your wanton behavior. It was not so. You looked at Geto, he was a little reclined in his seat, lazily stroking himself as he looked at you. 

“Still want me to fuck you?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Good,” he purred standing up with his cock still in his hand. He guided himself to your entrance and  you gasped at the feeling of the head of his cock pushing through your wet folds as he traced it from your clit down to your entrance. 

“Fuck, wanted to do this for a long time, pretty girl.”

You wondered how long was a long time for him. You’d been thinking about him bending you over his desk since you first started working for him. You weren’t bent over his desk now, but this was better. You got to see his face, and slip your fingers into his hair while he kissed you. He was slow to bottom out inside of you, but when he did a flash of heat singed your skin, and your rolled your body against his, craving the sweet sensation of him fucking you into the desk beneath you. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmured against your lips, “Always so good to me. This pussy was made for me. Gonna take good care of her.” 

You whined before pressing your lips against his harder, trying to keep yourself quiet even though his words were doing something to you. He pulled out slowly before snapping his hips forward. You squeaked a high pitch whine as he hit the end of you. You grabbed his lower back as he set a punishing pace. The slight smart of his sharp thrusts fizzled into pure pleasure as he kept up his pace. You wanted to let out loud sobbing moans to accompany the wet slapping sound of your coupling. You bit your hand again.

The entire desk shook with the force of his thrusts. You lamented the fact that the two of you were pretty much fully dressed. His muscles were straining that black t-shirt, especially his biceps. His head lulled back as he moaned a growling sound, probably a byproduct of him trying not to be loud. He began to play with your clit, rubbin it in quick, slick circles until your body was locking down again. Your thighs shook as your pussy throbbed. You came and he pushed in deep inside of you. 

“Good girl, that’s it cum all over my cock,” he coaxed in that velvety voice. He played with your clit, until the pulses of your sex died down. He pulled his still hard cock out of you. 

“Get on your knees for me, baby. Make me cum.” 

You hastily slid off of the desk and on to your knees. The moment you opened his mouth the head of his cock was on your bottom lip. He smeared his precum upon your plump lip before you sucked his head into your mouth. 

“Fuck, yes. That’s my girl. That’s my good girl, make me cum. Make me cum down your throat. Swallow it all down for me.” he babbled as you bobbed your head up and down his length with your hand getting what you couldn’t risk.

He moaned a long low sound as he came, hips still canting forward, fucking his cum into and out of your mouth. 

“You look so pretty like that,” he breathed, as if the sight of you made him breathless. You let his length fall from your mouth. You wiped your mouth with the back of his hand. Before you could feel too bashful about what happened, Geto reached for you. You put your hand in his and he tugged you up towards him until you were sitting on his lap. You decided in that moment, not to think about anything but the way he held you in his lap.

~
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