“You do understand I’m only here to help with your assignments, correct?”

Abby’s voice is sharp, but not scolding. The hand on your hip squeezing almost painfully hard whenever you get a question wrong. Forcing you to erase it and try again. Like a punishment of sorts.

Her nails bite into your skin, pulling you back against her chest to readjust you in her lap. Feeling her thighs begin to ache from your weight on them. But hey, she’s not complaining.

“That’s the wrong formula, try again.” barks out your professor, her leg bouncing in irritation. “You’ve got the right idea. Do it, again. Now, please.”