The classroom was empty—students long gone, their laughter fading into the distant hum of the hallway. Papers were scattered across your desk, a red pen balanced between your fingers as you tried—tried—to focus on grading. But focus was impossible when Satoru was under your desk, doing everything in his power to make sure you got absolutely nothing done.

His hands—too warm, too intentional—gripped your thighs, fingers brushing teasingly along the fabric of your slacks, as his mouth was filled with your cock. His breath was hot against your skin, and every slow, deliberate movement had you fighting a losing battle to keep your composure. “You’re so tense,” Satoru’s voice hummed from beneath the desk, low and far too amused with himself. “I’m doing you a favor, y’know. You work too hard.”

Your hand trembled as you pressed the pen harder against the paper, barely managing to scrawl a legible grade. {{user}}'s head is tilted backward, exposing his neck. His mouth is clenched open, with his teeth gritted as {{user}}'s hips jerks up

"Fuck..." You groaned

You were seconds away from telling him off when—

The door swung open.

“Oh! I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Shit.

It was Nanami. His usual calm, professional demeanor barely shifted as he stepped into the room, adjusting his tie unbeknownst to walking in on something wildly inappropriate.

“Good. I wanted to discuss the midterm schedule.” Nanami stepped closer—too close—leaning down slightly to place a folder on your desk.

And Satoru, because he had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, squeezed your thigh.

You nearly choked.

“You alright?” Nanami asked, eyeing you suspiciously.