He's not sure why he thought this would be a good idea or why he agreed to this, but Tadashi sits at his desk, alternating between fidgeting and squirming to forcing himself to freeze immediately once he realizes the rest of the class must be a tad leery at this point. Hopefully, its just his paranoia.

Tadashi's book bag rests on his lap—resting isn't the right word, more like planted firmly against his thighs. A free hand presses down on his tote for dear life because if it slips or falls for whatever reason, he'll expose the bulge protruding from his jeans to the rest of the world and that's just not a pleasantry he'd like to exchange.

Professor Callaghan reigns full control over Tadashi's predicament. The toy's remote control dial is hidden behind a stack of text books and graded papers on Callaghan's podium. Every so often, as he pauses his lecture to switch to the next slide on the powerpoint, Tadashi notices that the corners of his teacher's mouth twitches ever so slightly.

Today, they're covering an introduction to circuit board engineering and its nothing Tadashi isn't already well versed in but every time he loses focus, he remembers how much college tuition costs and his eyes snap open again.

It was an honest mistake. Tadashi had to care for his fever-ridden little brother because he didn't want Aunt Cass to get sick and infect the customers in her cafe. He was running late the other day, prioritizing Hiro's health above all. Tadashi missed the first ten minutes of Callaghan's lecture. Callaghan's "Meet me after class, Mr. Hamada," should not have sent such violent chills down his spine but he found himself in his professor's office at the end of class, squirming in his seat, both terrified and aroused by the fact that no one else knew of their…well, what some would consider 'unethical' relationship.

"It was just ten minutes sir," Tadashi pleads. "Really, its not that big of a deal. I can just copy my friend's notes. Not that much could have happened in ten minutes."

Not that any of this mattered, of course. Callaghan was just looking for an excuse to remind Tadashi who was in charge here and the young innovator stupidly opened up a wonderful door for opportunity— not that he didn't absolutely love every minute of it. It didn't take much for Callaghan to learn which buttons to push. One day, Callaghan just shoved his protégée into the wall when they were making out. Knees buckled, limbs turning to putty, Tadashi politely asked Callaghan to manhandle him like that again. And again and again until his professor pulled his hair, bit down hard into his neck, and then eventually pinned him onto the mattress. It was extraordinary; Callaghan grabbed Tadashi by the back of his neck and forced him face first into the downy bedspread while he fucked him. Hard.

"You know I don't tolerate slackers," Callaghan chides, pulling Tadashi from his thoughts.

"I know," Tadashi had tried to reason. "But it won't happen again."

"It won't and I'll personally see to it myself that it doesn't."

The glint in Callaghan's eyes told Tadashi that the conversation they were about to have wasn't concerning academia. Not in the slightest.

Alas, here is, attempting to write notes with a small toy inside him, rattling, prodding him in places that have no business being titillated in a public setting. Callaghan takes another pause, absentmindedly sipping from his coffee cup. He knows he can't stare at Tadashi for too long because other students will grow suspicious, so Callaghan opts to fiddle with the dial as he prepares the next few slides.

Grinning to himself, Callaghan sets the dial on the lowest pressure available and then he turns it up to the highest level. And the highest level is very high.

Very, very high.

And intense.

And powerful.

Tadashi lunges forward, hands gripping the edge of his desk. Sweat accumulates on his brow, down his neck. Every inch of his body tingles with approval. A squeal echoes within the otherwise silent classroom. Callaghan doesn't need to look up from his syllabus to know which student of his is responsible for the disruption.

"Looks like someone's excited to learn more about schematics," Callaghan jokes.

Everyone laughs but Tadashi is far from amused. His friends eye him, worriedly.

"Tadashi, are you okay?" Honey Lemon whispers, leaning over to get a better view of his reddened and puffy face. "Are coming down with the same fever that Hiro has?"

"I'm fine," Tadashi winces, stifling his discomfort— painfully arousing, pleasurable discomfort— clinging to every last bit of composure he has left. "Don't worry. Thanks for asking, though."

His words are terribly strained and Callaghan swells with pride as he continues to speak, lowering the dial.

Twisting the dial higher. Lowering the dial. Twisting the dial higher. Lowering the dial.

Back and forth, nonstop. Relentless. Vibrations quicken then lessen, tickling his prostate with always the right amount of pressure and speed. Warmth pools in Tadashi's lower belly. His feet scrape and tap helplessly against the floor. Fingertips drum impatiently against his laptop. His t-shirt is now too tight: it wraps around his neck, choking him. The cotton material brushes against the hardened peak of his nipples.

Shifting in his seat was a horrible decision. All Tadashi wanted to do was sit upright but the fabric of his jeans rub against his erection and accompanied with the sensations gliding smoothly inside him—it's too much.

Tadashi groans, loudly. Swiftly, he shoves his fist against his mouth and pretends to disguise his mewl with a cough. This is fine. He can pretend to be sick. Whatever gets him through this nightmare.

"Mr. Hamada," Professor Callaghan calls out, softly, feigning concern. His brows are wrinkled in concern and Tadashi would love to call out his mentor on his bluff. "Do you need to be excused?"

"No, Professor Callaghan," Tadashi murmurs.

"Do try and minimize your outbursts, then. The class doesn't need any more distractions."

"Understood," Tadashi replies, teeth grinding together.

Checking the time recorded in the corner of his laptop screen, Tadashi takes a deep breathe, unable to discern if his body is shaking from arousal or from sheer anger and frustration. Still twenty more minutes to go until class ends.

Twenty more minutes of this prolonged, sadistic torture. He could honestly start crying right about now.

If you guys ever want to drop by and leave me prompts on tumblr, feel free :3

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