"Oh my God, are you still working on that assignment?"
Ramona, one of your roommates walks out of her bedroom with an empty mug and plate, her boyfriend's hoodie is swallowing her slim figure, her hair in a not too picturesque messy bun on top of her head as she makes her way to the kitchen sink. You're perched up on a stool at the small kitchen island, a blanket thrown over your shoulders as you stare at the practically empty document in front of you. Over the course of the last two hours you only typed your name and two whole lines out. So that's basically nothing.
Groaning you let your head smash against the keyboard as Ramone washes her dishes.
"This is bullshit, Ram. I took this class because I thought it would be an easy few credits and I like writing, but now it's totally kicking my ass!" you whine, sitting up and deleting the letters your forehead hit into the document. For a moment you think about leaving it there, even turning it in. It would definitely be better or at least more than what you could come up with.
Ramona dries her hands and turns to face you, folding her arms over her chest she leans against the counter chewing on her bottom lip.
"What do you have to write about, again?"
"I have to write the first chapter of the story I worked on throughout the semester. You know, the one I told you about."
"The boy and the fish?" she cocks her head to the side.
"Yes. But it was easier to just theorize about it than to actually write it," you sigh with a pained grimace, the empty document practically laughing at you on the screen of your laptop.
"Can't you write about something else?"
"No, unfortunately I can't. God, I'm regretting ever taking this class," you growl, shutting your laptop, not able to take the mocking you're getting from it right now.
"Oh come on, you surely don't regret seeing Professor Sexy every week," Ramona laughs teasing.
"Right now, I wish nasty things upon Professor Sexy," you sigh, though the thought of him definitely chases your anger away a bit.
"I think about doing nasty things to him too," she sighs dreamily and you gasp dramatically.
"Ramona! Does your boyfriend know you're fantasizing about my Creative Writing professor?"
"Y/N, I'm convinced even Dean fantasizes about him!" she scoffs, making the both of us laugh.
Professor Harry Styles is definitely by far the hottest teacher on campus. But he would be the best-looking even if you took the students as well. Beside Creative Writing he teaches Language and Linguistics, International Fiction and your absolute favorite, the class women basically kill each other to get into: Women Writers.
He is nothing like the macho men in town that think they can get any woman they want. Because Professor Styles could actually get any woman he wants. With his six feet, fit figure, rocking several tattoos and probably even more under his oddly styled outfits, painted nails and many rings he sports every day, he surely has every women on campus wrapped around her fingers. Walking around you often catch conversations between girls, daydreaming about the professor and you can always relate to them, because you tend to do the same.
If any other male professor were to teach Women Writers, females in school would be rioting against it, but not when it comes to Professor Styles. The man is basically part of the females which kind of just adds to his unbearable sex appeal. You didn't exclusively decide to take one of his classes just to stare at him for one and a half hours every week, but it's definitely a plus.
"Alright, what do you have so far?" Ramona asks, grabbing a pack of crackers from the cupboards as she leans onto the kitchen island across from you. Opening your laptop again, the screen comes to life and you clear your throat.
"In all the seas, in all the world, there has never been a land quite like the isle of Eroda. Shaped unmistakably like a frown, it is home to an all but forgotten fishing village that has had perpetual cloud cover for as long as anyone can remember."
You stop and look at Ramona who is waiting for you to continue, but there's nothing else. This is all you could come up with in the past two hours. Pathetic.
"Go on," she nods, popping a cracker into her mouth but you give her a tight-lipped smile.
"This is it. This is everything I have."
"You've been sitting here for hours."
"Thanks for making me feel so good about it!" you huff, pushing the laptop away so you can lay your head onto the counter in front of you.
"Sorry! I'm sorry. Okay, so... how long should it be?"
"At least ten pages," you breathe out desperately.
"Shit," she sighs, putting the crackers away. "I wish I could help, but you know my imagination is on the level of a brick."
You snort at her comment, sitting up straight again to look at her. She gives you an apologetic smile just when the front door opens and your second and last roommate strides into the apartment. Kostas has one arm full of groceries as he kicks his shoes off and changes them to his cute slippers his mother sent him all the way from Greece in a care package along with all of his favorite Greek snacks that are still taking up half of a cupboard in the kitchen, but at least he shares them with all of you.
He beams at the two of you with his usual upbeat mood, but upon seeing the two of you his smile falls.
"What's this sourness I'm tasting in here?" he asks as he joins you at the island, setting down his bag to unload.
"Y/N is trying to write her assignment for Professor Sexy," Ramona files him in and his head snaps around right away.
"God, I always forget you have a class with him! He is too hot, I can't think straight when I'm near him in the cafeteria." He grabs his veggies and puts them to his shelf in the fridge before looking back at the two of you. "Not that anything I do is straight," he adds, making you both laugh.
"You guys are not helping me with all the sexy talk about him, it just makes me want to write the story even less," you sigh dramatically.
"Just... offer him to suck him off for an A," Kostas shrugs and you roll your eyes at his suggestion, not even taking him seriously, though the thought of having Professor Styles down your throat... you shouldn't even go there right now.
"I think he's gotten some offers like that before," Ramona scoffs, stuffing her hands into her hoodie's pocket.
"Definitely," Kostas agrees as he moves to the cupboards to put the pasta and canned food he bought away. "But the real question is, has he ever accepted the offer?"
"No way," you shake your head, pulling your laptop back in front of you, disappointed that no words magically appeared in the document in the meantime.
"But he surely got tempted at least a few times," Ramona muses.
"Who doesn't get tempted when they get offered oral sex?" Kostas chimes in, finishing up with his groceries before he joins you on the other stool, taking a look at what you've got so far, but he grimaces at the very few lines typed out.
"It's so dirty that maybe some of our teaches have thought about having sex with us, don't you think?" Ramona smirks coyly and you know she is thinking about her Economics professor. She is known to have a crush on the man even though he is in his late forties and has two kids and a wife.
"When is Dean coming back to town? You need to get laid," Kostas asks her, making you laugh.
"Shut up," she rolls her eyes. "We make up for the loss on the phone," she then adds smirking pleased with herself.
"Oh, we all know, Honey. The walls are not that thick," Kostas replies and that evidently shuts her up, her cheeks and ears turning red. Dean lives alone, so they are usually at his place when they want to be alone, not putting you and Kostas through the trauma of having to hear them fuck here, but you've also heard them on the phone the other day and it made you wonder how good of a call girl Ramona would be if she ever needs extra cash...
"I wish I could just write something else," you sigh, changing the topic from Ramona's sex life as you purse your lips, staring at the screen.
"Do you have something you'd want to write about?" she asks, leaning onto her elbows on the counter top.
"The easiest thing to write would be definitely a steamy story about the professor," you breathe out, half joking, half seriously.
"Oh, like a fanfiction?" Kostas' eyes light up at the idea. "What would it be about?"
"Mmm," you think, fingers lingering above the keyboard before you smile up at your roommates and start typing while saying the words out loud.
"The professor sat in his leather chair behind his desk, paper piles stacked neatly on top of it, his piercing green eyes boring into me as I stood at the door in my uniform..."
"Uniform?" Ramona questions.
"You know, like a... school girl uniform. Short skirt, white shirt that's unbuttoned at the top, knee high socks," you add and her eyes widen.
"Oh, nasty!" Kostas laughs, but he is clearly enjoying it.
"How can I help you?" He asked, his tongue slowly running over his lips, wetting them at the sight of me as I took a few steps into the office. I made sure to sway my hips more than usually, the movement definitely caught his eyes that roamed down the length of my body."
The document is starting to fill up with your words, even though these shouldn't be the ones taking up your mind.
"I was hoping to talk about my grade, Professor. Do you have a moment?"
You imitate a low, sexy voice and your roommates are drinking up your words as you go along with the story.
"Come on in," he nodded and I closed the door behind me for some privacy.
"I know the grades are decided, but I was hoping there was something I could do to earn some extra points and get an A, what do you think?"
"Depends on how far you're willing to go for those extra points," he hummed as I walked closer to his desk, pushing some of the papers to the side so I could sit on it, my short skirt barely covering my ass, baring the whole length of my thigh. The professor's gaze snapped down at my leg, taking his sweet time staring at the smooth skin. When his eyes returned to mine, they were dark and filled with lust, they almost made me launch at him over the desk.
"Holy shit, Y/N, do you secretly write erotica novels?" Kostas snaps, fanning himself with his hands as you shake your head chuckling.
"I just have a wild imagination."
"Okay, now go on, I need to know the rest," he urges you, so you return to the document in front of you.
"There's nothing I wouldn't do, Professor," I said, running a hand down my throat and over my breasts that were pushed so tight against my shirt, the buttons were threatening to pop any moment.
"That's a dangerous thing to say, Miss Y/L/N," he answered, eyes following wherever my hand was going on my body. They stared as I undid the first button of my shirt, giving him an even better sight of my breasts, the red lacy bra I was wearing now peaked out from under the white fabric and I noticed a hitch in his breath as he leaned back in his seat. My eyes fluttered down to his crotch and I finally noticed the delicious bulge that was growing by the moment. He caught my wandering eyes, but didn't say a word, just let me gawk at him as we stared at each other for a few silent moments.
"I like dangerous and risky things, Professor," you told him, undoing another button on your shirt. At this point, you could just get rid of the whole thing, your chest was fully on display.
"For real, do you do porn behind our back?" Ramona gasps, making all three of you laugh.
"How do you think I'm paying rent?" you play along.
"Can you get me a few gigs? But only if I can choose my partner," Kostas places a hand to your knee, most likely already fantasizing about who he wants to work with in the industry.
"Of course, of course," you nod chuckling.
"Okay, you can't leave us hanging. Go on!" Ramona urges and once again, you return to the document.
The professor stood from his chair, taking his time as he walked around the desk until he was standing in front of me. I was still sitting on the top, one foot on the ground, the other one hanging in the air, legs parted enough that I flashed him a peek of my matching red thong underneath my skirt. My hands were aching to get on him, but I wanted him to make the first move.
"In that case, I have a few ideas how we can settle this," he growled lowly, one hand moving to his erection that was bursting through the seams of his pants. My mouth watered at the way he gripped himself, my pussy drenched just from the sight in front of me. I needed to be touched and it had to be by him. I was ready to give him anything he wanted from me.
"Don't hold back on me, Professor," I moaned, a hand moving down to between my legs to touch myself, desperate for the slightest friction, but just when I could finally help myself, he grabbed both my wrists and stepping between my legs he yanked me against him, kissing me hard, his tongue down my throat in a blink of the eyes. I could feel his cock pressed against my wet, slick pussy and—
Ramona's phone starts buzzing in her pocket and it snaps all three of us out of my fantasy.
"Oh, it's Dean. I have to take this," she breathes out holding up the phone in her hands. "And I'm totally not gonna get him to do phone sex with me after what you just planted into my head," she chuckles as she heads towards her bedroom before shutting the door behind her.
"I really hope Dean will be back next week, because her libido is absolutely off the charts," Kostas huffs, making you chuckle as he stands from the stool. "Anyway, I hope this little erotica break brought inspiration to you to finish the actual assignment. I have to start on one as well, so I'll lock myself up in my cave. Good luck, girl!" He sends you kisses as he disappears in his own room, leaving you alone.
Turning back to your laptop you see the story still there, you scroll up and run over it again. It's hot and spicy, you can see it happening so clearly in your head. It would be a shame to just abandon it. Grabbing your laptop you leave your spot in the kitchen and go back to your bedroom. Turning on the fairy lights wrapped around the headboard of your bed, you make yourself comfortable on the mountain of pillows and put your headphones in to start some music in case Ramona gets a little too excited and loud in the room next door.
The story has definitely made you horny and you think of grabbing your trusty pink vibrator from under the mattress, but you're aching to finish the story, so before helping on yourself, you get back to writing.
An hour later you have thousands of words worth of your wildest fantasies about your Creative Writing professor and how you'd want him to fuck you in his office. It's dirty, kinky and definitely unlikely to ever happen. You're convinced you'll never be able to look him in the eyes like before, but at least he will never any of the shit you wrote into this piece.
Getting it off your chest actually brings you inspiration for the real assignment, so after saving the dirty story, you open a new document and start typing. An hour later you're almost halfway done so at last you decide to stay up until you're finished. It's Sunday tomorrow, you can sleep for as long as you want and at least you'll have it done and turned in.
It's around two in the morning when you finally finish and give it one last read to correct any mistakes. You edit it, make sure it's just the way you want it and then open the online site where you have to turn assignments in. You feel exhausted and half asleep as you get to the page where Professor Styles is expecting the assignments to be uploaded. You export it and watch as the loading bar fills up and the file appears as an attachment. You type your name into the text bar before clicking upload and shutting the laptop closed as soon as it's sent. You put it aside and just doze off right away, pleased with the work you've done.
Creative Writing is your last class on Wednesdays, starting at four and ending at five thirty. After the weekend when you turned the assignment in, you end up almost being late, barely making it on time because your last class was dragged longer than it should have. The professor and the majority of the class is already in the room so you just sprint to your usual seat. When you look up you see that the professor is staring right at you and it makes you freeze in your spot, all blood rushing out of your head.
It's not the kind of mindless staring when you're just too deep in your thoughts to realize your eyes are boring into someone. No, he is looking at you with a purpose, and judging from the furrowed eyebrows and darkened eyes, this purpose is not too pleasant.
He starts the class on time and avoids looking at you for the rest of it, while you're basically falling apart in your seat. Normally you enjoy these ninety minutes, it's kind of the highlight of your week, but not today. This unsettling feeling in your guts keeps you on edge the whole time and you can't wait to flee from this room.
The last twenty minutes feel like an eternity and when the professor finally dismisses everyone you're basically the first one to jump to your feet. The tiny voice in the back of your mind is telling you to get out of here as fast as possible.
"Miss Y/L/N!" the professor's voice stops you in your tracks and your stomach drops. "Would you mind staying for a few minutes?"
Slowly turning to face him, you're met with the same bewildered, dark look in his eyes and you feel like a reindeer caught in headlights as you nod anxiously. So much for leaving right away.
You walk to the side so the students pass by you easily. The professor gathers his papers, obviously waiting for the crowd to leave before talking to you. By the time the last person wanders out of the room you're basically a nervous wreck.
Your eyes venture to the clearly fuming man just a few feet away and you watch him grab a stack of paper from his pile, placing it onto the desk before his eyes flicker up to meet yours.
"Would you mind explaining what this is?"
Stepping closer you take a look at the document in front of you, it has your name on it and the first few lines of your assignment you turned in, but the rest is not the story about the boy and the fish. You nearly faint when you keep reading and realize what it is.
The professor sat in his leather chair behind his desk, paper piles stacked neatly on top of it, his piercing green eyes boring into me as I stood at the door in my uniform...
"Oh my God," you choke out, grabbing the papers from the desk to see if it's the whole thing, though you already know the answer to that.
For some terrible and fatal reason, you must have ended up uploading the wrong document when you were turning the assignment in so late. You were half asleep, just happy to be done with it and you didn't double check if you've chosen the right file. The erotic, kinky piece you wrote about the professor and yourself is now lying in front of you, printed out and he has surely read it and the look on his face now makes perfect sense.
"Yeah, I had a similar reaction when I opened the file the other day," he nods furiously and you genuinely wish that you would just drop dead right then and there.
"This is—It's a mistake, professor. I-I didn't mean to, this was—oh my god, I can't believe this is happening," you stammer, hands shaking as you avoid to look at him. This is undoubtedly the worst moment of your whole life and nothing will even come close to topping it. You'll never be able to recover from this, you might even have to go to therapy, because you surely feel like you've lost your mind in this moment.
The professor sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a moment to calm himself down. You can only imagine how awkward it is for him. He must be aware how good-looking he is and the effect he has on women. He's been teaching here for years and you are surely not the first student to have a crush on him. There's no way he is oblivious to all of this, but he probably never had to directly deal with it like now. He can't control how other people feel about him or his look, but he should have never been put into the position where his professional work is crossed by some horny student's wildest fantasies.
"Professor Styles, I am so sorry for this, it was all just a mistake. This was written as just a joke with my roommates, I never meant to use it or post it anywhere, I promise! I accidentally uploaded the wrong file, I swear my real assignment is nothing like this!"
All you can do is ramble about how sorry you are. Because you definitely are. You've never felt more embarrassed of yourself before and you'll never live this down. But you have bigger things to worry about than your own haunting thoughts. What if he fails you for this stunt? Or worse, takes this to the dean and you get kicked out of school? You can definitely see it happen.
"I can only hope that it was just an honest mistake on your part," he says when he finally speaks up.
"It was, absolutely, one hundred percent," you nod eagerly.
"I'm not going to make a bigger deal out of this than it is. You're lucky I'm the one it happened with, because I know some other professors would have taken it way more seriously. I'm willing to forget about it however if you promise not to be this careless in the future."
"Learned my lesson, won't happen again," you shake your head, your heart hammering in your chest from the adrenaline.
"Great. Make sure to keep your... personal works separated from your school work. The assignment's due date is tomorrow. I've already deleted your attachment from the system, but I think it's better if you turn the real one in printed. I want your work on my desk by four pm tomorrow."
"Understood," you nod and hesitate whether you should place the printed copy of your shameful fiction back to the desk.
"Take it with you," he tells you and you clutch it to your chest quickly.
"Again, I'm very sorry, professor. And thank you for... not punishing me for my reckless actions."
Your eyes snap up right as you talk about punishing and for a split second you see something even darker in his eyes, but you're not in the position to ponder about anything.
"I'll see you next week, Miss Y/L/N," he nods shortly before tearing his gaze away from you.
You sprint out of the room faster than ever and basically run the five blocks distance back to your apartment's building. When you burst through the front door you find Kostas in the kitchen cooking and he gives you a questioning look upon seeing how shaken up you are.
"What? Were you chased home?" he asks as he keeps stirring something in the pot that smells absolutely delicious. Dropping your bag on your way you join him, still shaking from the encounter you just had with Professor Styles. Your mouth is dry so you grab a bottle of water from the fridge and chug down the whole thing at once.
"I fucked up. Big time," you finally manage to speak up.
"You look like you just killed someone, what the fuck happened?"
"I wish I was the one to get killed," you cry out, burying your face in your hands.
"Just tell me already!"
"Do you remember the dirty story I wrote when I was struggling with my assignment for Professor Styles?"
"Oh, your fanfiction! Of course!" he grins.
"I, uhh—I accidentally... I turned that in as my assignment."
Kostas' eyes go so wide for a moment you think they are gonna pop out. He opens his mouth several times, but closes it until he finally speaks up.
"Jesus, are you out of your mind?"
"It was an accident! I turned it in so late, I didn't check if it was the right file!"
He stares back at you as if you really did just confess to killing someone and it's the first time he seems speechless, that's how you know you messed up really badly. Kostas always has a snarky, funny reply to everything, yet now he is just staring at you in silence and it's worse as if he was dragging your ass for being so stupid.
Then he finally snaps out of his horror.
"Okay, alright. It's not that bad, right? I mean, it wasn't that bad what you wrote with us last night, it only went until the kiss."
"I finished it later, wrote the whole thing," you admit as you feel the panic rising inside you once again.
"Oh my God, Y/N, you have a death wish or something?"
"Thanks, you're making me so good about it!" you snap back before dropping to the floor. Sitting you pull your knees to your chest as you lean against the cupboards underneath the counter. Kostas returns to the stove to check on the food while you question your whole existence.
"I'm sorry, but... it's not like you can undo it now. Did he flip? Are you in trouble?"
"He was pissed. Like, so pissed, I've never seen the man like that. But surprisingly, I'm not in trouble. I just need to hand in my real assignment until tomorrow, but this time printed so I don't fuck it up again."
"Wow, he went soft on you, girl. He is an angel," he huffs.
Rubbing your face with your hands you push yourself up from the floor, squaring your shoulders.
"I will never be able to look him in the eyes, Kostas. You have no idea what I wrote in that shit," you shake your head vigorously.
"Can I read?" he peeks at you and you give him a hard look. "What? Just want to know how bad exactly it was!"
"I'm deleting the file. I wish I could burn my laptop, but I can't afford a new one," you growl, running a hand through your hair. "Anyway, I'll go and make sure my real assignment is the best I can ever turn in. I'm surprised he is not failing me right away."
The next day you leave earlier than your usual, dropping by the copy place near the campus to print your paper. You read it through three more times on your way just to make sure everything is decent and there's no trace of your dirty fantasy in it.
You plan to drop by the professor's office during your lunch break. Your two classes in the morning manage to take your attention away from the disaster that your life is, even if just for a few hours. But when you head to the building where Professor Styles' office is, your nerves start to beat you up once again at the thought of having to face him.
You lied awake in your bed last night for a long time, thinking about it. He must think you're crazy, like right off the bats kind of crazy, a maniac, almost like a stalker. It's not like you wanted to use that story for anything, it would have rotted on your computer for eternity, probably getting deleted at some point. You had no plans to publish it or even just share with anyone, not even with Kostas or Ramona. They've heard enough of it and they surely don't have to know the nasty things you fantasized about when you were alone.
His office's door is closed, you see that from down the hallway. Taking several deep breaths you walk up and stop in front of it, staring at his name displayed on the wall next to the door. You can't just dismiss how ironic it is, that your fantasy started similarly, though you are definitely not wearing the same outfit, your jeans and sweater covering most of your body unlike the uniform from the story.
At last you knock on the door, your heart hammering in your throat and you listen carefully for an answer that never comes. You knock again, hoping you just missed his voice, but you hear nothing again, so you decide to try to open the door, expecting it to be locked, but it opens. Just when you're about to poke your head inside, a voice speaks up behind you.
"Are you looking for Harry? Oh, sorry, I mean Professor Styles."
You recognize Professor Alvarez, she is teaching Modern American Literature, Drama and Poetry, Ramona had a class with her last semester. She is probably the youngest member of the department, barely thirty and she always looks her best, as if she just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. You've never been sure how she can afford designer clothes and the expensive car you've seen her drive around campus from the paycheck she earns from the university, not that it's any of your business.
"Uh, yeah. I have to hand in my paper," you nod clearing your throat.
"He just left minutes ago to get lunch. I'm sure he'll be back shortly, wait for him," she smiles at you warmly, brushing her long, almost black hair over her shoulders.
"Oh, no. I'll just place it onto his desk, if that's alright."
"Sure, go ahead. Do you want me to tell him you were here?"
"No need. He'll see my name on top," you force a smile back and she just nods, walking away as you step into Professor Styles' office.
It's not your first time here, so you're not surprised by the massive amount of books lining along the walls and piling even on the floor in the corner. His desk is a bit messy, an empty coffee mug is set on the side, his laptop open, but the screen is black. The walls are a nice olive color and they match great with the vintage looking rug that covers the hardwood flooring that can be found in many of the classrooms as well in this building.
Crossing the room you step to his desk and pulling your paper out of your bag, pinned together with a paper clip, you place it to the middle so he can't miss it when he returns. Feeling like an intruder you are about to leave right away, but then something catches your eyes.
Peeking from under a smaller stack of papers, your name is written on top and you recognize the formatting of the document. All your blood rushes into your head as you pull it out without even thinking about it and your mouth hangs open when you see another copy of your little fantasy printed out.
It can't be the one he showed you yesterday since he told you to take it with yourself. That means he had it printed at least twice and this copy is different from the other one you have at home. It has some lines highlighted.
"What the..." You can barely believe your eyes, but the marking runs through the whole thing. The neon yellow color appears quite a few times throughout the whole text. You start going over the lines that caught his attention.
"My mouth watered at the way he gripped himself, my pussy drenched just from the sight in front of me."
"I begged to him, my knees bruising against the harsh bristles of the rub underneath me, but it was all worth it."
"My hands wrapped around his thick, throbbing erection and my lips parted."
"He took my erected nipple between his teeth, tugging on it just enough to make me whine."
"He dragged the glistening tip across my soaking wet pussy, circling on my clit before he pushed the head inside, the rest following right after."
"I screamed his name as his hand slapped against my ass over and over again, his hips pounding into me."
And there was many more. All through the whole thing, he highlighted parts that got dirtier as the story evolved.
You flip through it again as if you were afraid this was just a game your imagination played with you. But the more you stare at the papers in your hands the more evident it's becoming that it's there and you're not just hallucinating.
It doesn't make sense, it was very clear he had nothing to do with it, he said he deleted your attachment from the site as well, but if that was the case, why does he have another copy that's been evidently read thoroughly?
A laughter echoes outside of the room and you realize that you shouldn't be here and definitely shouldn't be snooping around your professor's desk. You need to leave before he gets back so you don't have to face him.
You're about to stuff the dirty document back into the stack when something unfamiliar washes over you. A sudden urge of confidence and hunger for dominance after the embarrassment you went through yesterday, you want to give him a hint that he was busted.
So instead of making it look like you didn't touch anything, you lay both your assignments to the table neatly next to each other, your dirty fiction of him and your real work you were supposed to turn in. When he'll look at the desk it'll be obvious that you did it and that's exactly the message you want to leave behind.
Taking one last look at the setup you can't help but feel excited and riled up as you walk out of his office and leave before he gets back to see your little surprise.