Anime Imagines

Teacher x student SMUT

These are made up characters, any and all references to real life are purely coincidence.
Kinks: studentxteacher, spanking, domination, submission, pain, name calling, light bondage, panty gag
I wipe my sweaty palms off on my skirt, shifting my binder to my left arm as I prepare myself mentally to knock on his door. Out of habit, I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, and tentatively raise my hand to knock, once, twice, three times. Shit, did that seem too eager? Faint footsteps, then the door swings open to reveal Mr. Grey, his hair slightly tousled, and his tie loosened.
"Ah, Quinn. Need something?" My cheeks flush when he refers to me by my last name. It wasn't something personal to me, he called all of his students by their last name. But something about it was oddly more... sensual than being called by my first name, Emilia. I didn't notice, but his eyebrows raised as he looked me over, a small smirk causing the corner of his lips to twitch once he notices the deep color of my cheeks.
"Uh, I was just um, wandering if I could stay in your class during lunch so that I can catch up on the notes I missed? I was out yesterday for a doctors appointment." He crossed his arms over his chest, as if to think about it. It took all the self control I possessed for me not to look at how his arms strained against the rolled up sleeves of his button down shirt.
He steps back, holding the door open more to allow me in, "Sure." I smile meekly, and duck beneath his arm.
"Sit in the chair in front of my desk." I look back at him and nod, not noticing how his eyes linger on my skirt (which is several inches shorter than the dress code allows.)
Letting my bag slip off my shoulder onto the floor next to the desk, I plop down into the chair. Mr. Grey makes his way over to his desk, grabs the copy of the previous days notes, the corresponding guided notes, and sets the packets down next to my binder.
"Let me know if you have any questions, Quinn. I know you struggle with the "ism's" a lot. The notes focus on romanticism and how it correlates with nationalism." He taps his finger on the title of the paper, then returns to his lunch at the desk. I immediately get to work, filling in the blanks and asking small questions every 5 minutes or so.
"Mr. Grey?" I ask after being stuck on a concept for the last 3 or so minutes.
"Yes, Quinn?" I close my eyes briefly, savoring the way my name dripped from his tongue. Was it just me, or did his voice sound seductive? No, he's eating, probably just has some food in his throat or something.
"Um, I don't think that I quite understand how romanticism drives nationalism? I don't get how making everything all sappy makes people patriotic." Wow Quinn, very smart. I critique myself, and hope my cheeks don't heat up from embarrassment again.
"Well," he starts to get up, and make his way over to my desk. He kneels, and points his pen to a section of the paper.
"Think about it like this. Romanticism is the spark that ignites what you're passionate about. So, in the case of this time period, that was pride for your country. Take Liberty Leading the People from the french revolution, her breast was out to represent patriotism, and romanticized nationalism, which filled people with a desire to defend their country." The way his voice formed the word breast caused my breathing to hitch, and I prayed it was soft enough for him not to notice, "Does that help?" I look him in the eyes and nod, "Yeah, I think I've got it. Thanks, Mr. Grey." He smiles, "No problem, Quinn." My mind drifts when he says that, and for a moment I forget he's kneeling in front of me. Mindlessly, I suck my bottom lip, letting my mind wonder about what it'd be like if me and him were alone, and he called me that while he ground himself slowly against me, pulling my hair tightly in his fist while whispering dirty things into my ear with his husky voice. I snap back into reality whenever I notice his face, suddenly realizing what I was doing. My eyes widen, and I quickly push my things together, pulling my bag onto my shoulder.
"T-Thanks for the notes, Mr. Grey." I laugh nervously, starting to walk away while trying to hide my blush with my hair.
"I'll see you tomorrow in class, by-SHIT!" I curse whenever my foot catches on the leg of his desk as I make my way to the door. My binder is thrown out of my hands whenever I catch myself on the edge, narrowly avoiding falling flat on my face.
I risk looking back at him, only to see a condescending smirk plastered across his ruggedly handsome features.
"Look at how red you're turning, Quinn," he chuckles. My cheeks were on fire at this point, and I was thoroughly convinced that all the blood in my body said fuck you and went to my face. I quickly get down, scrambling to get my things together and get the hell out of his room.
His footsteps go around me, then he kneels and helps collect the scattered papers, while chuckling lowly. The embarrassment spreads through my body, my stomach churning while my legs feels weak. Why, of all people, did I have to make a complete ass out of myself in front of Mr. Grey?!
He stands, and I follow, rising shakily to my feet.
Mr. Grey stands between me and the door, but I refuse to make eye contact.
"Look at me, Quinn." His voice had lowered immensely, letting only the deep, husky tones of his voice be projected. My eyes raise, and meet his dark, domineering pools of honey and dark chocolate. My mind races, shame only adding shades of red to my cheeks at the thoughts that float through my mind.
"I wonder if I could make your ass as red as your face if I spanked you, Quinn." My jaw drops, my legs suddenly weak from the heat that pooled between them. Mr. Grey takes a step forward, his right hand pushing its way into my hair, making a fist to tug at my scalp. My lips part, a soft groan passing them. My head is pulled forward, so that my ear is pressed to his lips.
"You're going to do as I say, when I fucking say it. Do you understand?" I whimper at the severity of his voice, but nod submissively.
"Good girl." His smirk broadens, then he pulls me by my hair to the desk where I previously sat. Mr. Grey bends me over, mumbling 'don't move' then walks away. My legs shake, and I can feel that my skirt had risen up to reveal part of my panties. I bite my lip out of sheer habit. His steps approach me, and I can feel the adrenaline course through me. His rough hand cups my ass, then he hooks his fingers in my panties and drags then down to my ankles.
"What slutty panties you're wearing, Quinn. Did you wear them just for me?" Mr. Grey teased, then resumed what he was doing.