"Your grades are dropping terribly low again."

His voice cooed, warm and lively like it always was in the classroom with everyone in it; but it felt colder today. More pissed off.

"And I can't possibly do anything about it, they'd get very suspicious if you just somehow got a higher grade. Your participation isn't the highest either."

he muttered, more the last few parts to himself than to you. Those fingers that always moved smoothly against your shoulder, chin, and anywhere else he pleased moving against papers upon papers of those damned assignments.

it was horrible to think about how'd they feel against your skin, wouldn't it?

ashamed? Maybe. Disgusted? Definitely. Regretful?.. Who knew.

but now wasn't time to dread on that. It was time to dread on Mr. Emily being mad at you-

"Are you even damn listening?"

his voice sounded colder than usual. God, you'd rope yourself up into something you wouldn't dare try to get out of.