Attached *Steve Rogers*Reader*

3) Words of Filth

Warnings: smut and a bit of filth, hints of dom/sub, oral (male receiving), cock warming, unprotected sex, use of the term 'babygirl', praise kink, professor kink (kinda?), brief mention of cumplay, potential age gap (? age not specified; just assumed), swearing (always)

A/N: Miss Clark is 'reader's' alter ego in the story she wrote, Professor Roberts is... isn't it clear? ;)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You knew that what you were about to do was risky – but hell, you needed to try. Chances were that it wouldn't even go that far; Professor Roberts was a respected scholar and just because he was the object of your dirty fantasies, it didn't mean he would treat your request that way. Though the lingering gazes exchanged in the class told you that it might be exactly the case.

He invited you in instantly after you knocked, smiling slightly from behind his desk as he welcomed you and beckoned you to take a seat, scribbling some note on the paper he had been reading through before you entered.

With your teeth worrying over your red-painted lips, you hesitantly obeyed, dropping your backpack by the chair, adjusting your black pencil skirt.

Professor Roberts pouted slightly, pink lips peeking through his absolutely glorious beard and you decided to use the opportunity of his attention being elsewhere to feast your eyes on him. On his sharp jawline softened by the neatly trimmed beard, on his long eyelashes framing his gorgeous blues, on his dark blonde hair combed to side giving him an aura of a serious man, a gentleman from another time.

Your gaze travelled down his neck and arm – he was wearing one of the cardigans you loved on him just making the image in front of you downright panties-dropping –, stopping at the hand he was holding his pen with, still writing whatever complicated thought had been in his head. Seeing his long fingers, you had to close your eyes, your mind instantly filled with unholy images of where these fingers could go.

You had walked in ready to do whatever was necessary to earn your missing credit, but the truth was that should he ask a particular kind of favour, you'd feel blessed and very happy to oblige. Professor Roberts, to put it simply, was sex on legs – long legs emphasized by the dress pants with slightly higher waist he had a habit of wearing – and you would object to very few of things he might suggest.

"Now, Miss Clark, I understand we had some trouble with your final test. It did not paint you in the best light," he started finally and you snapped your eyes open, trying your best to ignore the surge of desire when your name rolled off of his tongue so easily as if he was saying it every day... whispering it to your ear, groaning it as he-

"Y-yes, Professor. My nerves, unfortunately, got better of me," you explained softly, looking into his eyes, feeling your stomach twist. God, his eyes.

"Interesting. From what I saw during my classes, you never seemed to be the studying type in the first place... did you study for the test at all? Honestly, please."

You gulped, unable to hold his gaze. You shook your head and he sighed, leaning his elbows on the desk.

"That is that I was afraid of. Miss Clark, when you do pay attention in my class, you even display a great capacity for seeing matters in a different light, from unusual angles, posing questions that make me wonder too. That is a very precious quality to possess," he complimented you unexpectedly, and the surprise of it caused your eyes to meet his, intense blue burning – and for the first time, you discovered a drop of green in them, making your heart nearly stop.

Who gave him the damn right to be so hot and be a professor? How was one supposed to focus in the class in the first place with this specimen standing at the front?