requested! thank you. ♡
content: anxiety (mild), insecurity about dating a celebrity, mentions of paparazzi & fame, very soft comfort, forehead kisses galore.
---
You hadn't meant to cry in the car.
But you also hadn’t meant to be photographed coming out of the bookstore either — hair in a messy bun, hoodie too big, hands full of books and snacks you definitely didn’t want analyzed by strangers on the internet.
You’d only gone out for an hour.
And somehow, that had been enough.
Enough for pictures to be posted, your name trending with his, comment sections flooded with everything from compliments to brutal, bitter takes. Some were kind. Some were cruel.
All of them made your stomach twist.
And now, you sat beside him in the car, silent tears slipping down your cheek, your phone screen face-down in your lap.
Pedro hadn’t noticed yet. He was talking to the driver, telling a story, laughing softly. But as soon as the red light hit and he glanced over…
“Baby,” he whispered. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
You shook your head quickly, wiping at your eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re crying. You’re not fine.” He unbuckled, twisting toward you in the seat. “Talk to me.”
You hesitated.
Because you didn’t want to make it a thing. Didn’t want to sound ungrateful or dramatic.
Didn’t want him to think you couldn’t handle it.
“I just…” you said quietly, “I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this.”
Pedro’s brows pulled together. “For what?”
“This.” You gestured vaguely. “The photos. The comments. The speculation. I feel like I’m… under a microscope all the time.”
His jaw clenched a little. “Did something happen?”
You swallowed. “They took pictures. Of me. Alone. Just walking. And people online—”
He didn’t let you finish. He reached across the seat, took your hands in his.
“Hey,” he said gently. “Look at me.”
You did.
He looked heartbroken.
“You don’t have to be cut out for it,” he said. “It’s not your job. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“I signed up for you.”
Pedro exhaled slowly. “And I love you for that. But I hate that you’re hurting because of something I can’t control.”
His thumbs brushed your knuckles.
“It’s okay to not be okay with it,” he continued. “It’s okay to struggle. But you don’t have to struggle alone. You can tell me when it’s too much.”
You looked at him. Warm eyes, messy curls, hoodie with a ketchup stain on the sleeve.
A man. Not a celebrity. Not an image.
Just Pedro.
And he was yours.
“I love you,” you whispered.
He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I love you more,” he said. “Even if you wear that ridiculous hoodie to Whole Foods.”
You laughed through a sniffle. “It’s your hoodie.”
“Exactly. You’re lucky I don’t post you in it.”
You rolled your eyes, but the ache in your chest loosened.
“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging you gently across the console so you could curl into his chest.
Synopsis: You always knew you would be queen one day, but you didn’t think the title came with an arranged marriage. Sir Pascal, offers you a way out.
Genre: fluff, angst
Warnings: Y/N insert, mentions of blood and war, fantasy settings, contract marriage, age gap, fake marriage
Gif credits to owners!
The kingdom of Adéla was a small but strong one. It had a long running monarchy and a prospering army. Your family had been ruling for over five generations and soon it would be your turn.
The earliest memory you had was one of your father sitting you down on his thrown and telling you of the great things you could do for your country. His speech had made you feel empowered, you had never forgotten that moment.
Although you were a princess, your life wasn't all ballgowns and parties. It was also duty and study. When you were not in the library reading any book that was shoved towards you, you were sat beside your father learning the ins-and-outs of politics. The next moment you were learning to ride or keeping the peace in town. It seemed like there was never a moment to relax. You were stuffed into corsets and powdered with makeup. You were rushed to taste all the new offerings of the kitchen. You were...exhausted.
And when you were finally in the solitude of your room, you would think but to your earliest memory. It would make you sigh, eyes shutting, as you attempted to rub the strain out of your worried brow. You knew you had to be the queen everyone needed. You knew you had to follow your duty and keep the strength of your kingdom alive.
Your twenty-fifth birthday was arriving rapidly. Although you wouldn't become queen until your father passed (long live the king), this was the year you were to take on more responsibilities and start making decisions on your own. It was tradition. You were prepared, yet admittedly nervous.
You usually wouldn't make a fuss about your birthday but your mother insisted on it.
"This year is special." She would say. You nodded in agreeance, knowing you would never be able to get her to back down.
Preparations for your birthday party caused everyone to bustle around the palace more than usual. Your father, knowing you didn't really care, set you up in the library with a few study materials and left with a wink to deal with your stressed mother.
You tried to focus but it became difficult with all the noise from outside the large oak doors. With a sigh, you gathered all of your materials into your bag, and made your way outside to the garden. There was still some people out here but if you just went past the trees, you should be able to find some quiet.
Finally finding a comfy spot you placed your bag on the leaf covered ground. Sliding your jacket off your shoulders, you laid it out under a tree and sat down. You decided to take a breath and look up at the towering trees before getting enveloped into your books. Shutting your eyes as a gust of wind flowed over you.
Just for them to snap open at the sound of a blade slicing through the air and sticking to the tree inches from your head. You looked up at the assailant with a mixture of fury and confusion evident in your face. You couldn't see their face with the sun shining behind them.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" A man's voice asked.
"Me? I should be asking you that. Especially after almost slicing my head off." Grabbing the blade of the sword you pulled it out of the tree and away from your face. You ignored the pain from the cut you had inflicted onto yourself and stood to meet the man.
His face came into view as his brows furrowed looking down at the hand you had used to touch the blade. He was of good height and build with dark curly hair. A knight's badge glistened from his casual jacket.
"Why is an off duty knight carrying a sword?"
He ignored your question instead asking about your hand.
You rolled you eyes, "It's fine. Answer my question."
"I was on my way to bring it to the blacksmiths when I saw you."
"So you decided to use it?" You laughed out of shock. He nodded solemnly, still staring at your hand.
"I told you its fine. So, you thought I was trespassing into the palace?" Another nod.
"And what if I told you I lived here?" He finally looked up at your face.
"You live h-" He's cut off by someone calling your name. You both look towards the voice a maid coming into view.
"Ah, Princess Y/N, there you are. Your mother's been asking for you." She spoke up, glancing over at the man who was still staring at you.
"Princess?" The realization of his mistake flashing behind his eyes.
You laughed again, this time from amusement. "Yes, princess, sir..?"
"Pascal." He responded.
"Well Sir Pascal, it was very nice to-" your eyes glanced down to his sword "-meet you." Bowing your head slightly, you followed the maid back into the palace. Glancing back to still see him standing there in shock. What a strange man.
---- One Week Later, The Day Of The Party ----
Your wound was healing nicely, despite your mother had given you a lecture about going into the woods and hurting yourself. You hadn't returned to the woods and you hadn't seen Sir Pascal since that day.
Today was your birthday and the day of the party. Your mother had told you to stay in your room until tonight and not greet any guests. You weren't really sure why, but you agreed to her conditions anyway.
Your maids had been in and out of your room, getting you ready all day long. All of them convinced you had to look even prettier and more put together than usual. You just let them push you around and do anything they desired, knowing it was better to just sit still. A knock sounded at your door about an hour before your big entrance. Your maids were almost done with their preparations when your father walked into the room. Everyone stood and bowed in greeting, he smiled back.
"Ladies, can you leave us alone for a minute. I would like a word with the birthday girl." His smile now reached his eyes as you looked at you. You maids hurried out, leaving just you two.
"You look lovely, my dear." He father complimented, grabbing your hand in his. He turned it over in his hand and traced your veins.
"You know when your mother went into labor, I was so nervous. I knew one day I would have to have heirs, but when it was finally happening, I was besides myself. I didn't know how to be a father, let alone a good one. But the minute you arrived and the doctors had told me it was a girl, I felt like everything made sense. When I held you in my arms for the first time, I knew you would be a great leader. And as you grew it became more and more apparent everyday." He paused, as tears welled up in his eyes, yours mirroring his.
"Father..." You whispered.
He laughed and stood up straighter, dropping your hand. Breathing deeply to hold back his tears.
"Anyways, have a wonderful party my dear, I will see you down there." He moved towards the door and grabbed the knob. Turning it and opening it just a crack before turning back towards you.
"I'm sorry." He said before rushing out. Leaving you confused about what he was apologizing for.
Your maids finished getting you ready, after crying they had to touch up a bit of your makeup too. It was now time for you to join the rest of the guests down in the ballroom.
As you made your grand entrance down the large staircase, you scanned the crowd for any familiar faces. Your eyes locked onto Sir Pascal's, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked you up and down, you felt a blush rise to your cheeks before you forced yourself to look away.
The party was going smoothly, you were greeting dignitaries, eating, drinking, and dancing. Your mother had done an amazing job with the decorations, it was gorgeous. You kept meeting eyes with Sir Pascal but he never made his way over to talk to you.
You sighed finally deciding you would talk to him first. Just as you began to make your move towards him, your father called everyone's attention.
"I feel it's only right if the father of the birthday girl makes a speech." He laughed, causing everyone in the room to join in. "Y/N, is my only child and I have always held her close to my heart. One day she will be your Queen, a very important position, that she is more than prepared for." He smiled towards you. Tearing his eyes from you he looked over at your mother who nodded.
"But the Queen and I felt she should never have to rule alone." Your brows furrowed in confusion as two men made their way next to your parents. One was short, middle aged, with red hair. The other young, tall, and blonde. You weren't sure if you had met them before.
"Your new husband." A voice whispered behind you, you turned your head to see Sir Pascal standing there.
"My what?" You whispered back, sure you had heard him incorrectly.
"Your betrothed, the blonde." He nodded his head towards the younger man.
You snapped your head back towards your father who was trying to read your face.
"We have decided to agree to a marriage between our two nations. The second son of Corenth, Prince Xavier to marry our Princess Y/N."
You couldn't hold back the shock from your face, as your jaw dropped open. You looked to the blonde, who you now knew to be Prince Xavier, he looked solemn. He must not like the idea either. Your eyes shifted to your father, he met them, a look of apology flooding his features.
Suddenly a heat rushed through you, your heart pounding inside your chest, as an applause erupted at the announcement. You were now acutely aware of the amount of bodies around you and the boning of your corset crushing your lungs, no longer able to breathe. You grasped at the lace of your dress trying to find some sort of relief but it was of no use.
Someone congratulated you from your left and it snapped you out of your stupor. You glanced quickly at the large glass doors that led out to the gardens. Without thinking, you grabbed the bottom of your dress so you wouldn’t trip and ran straight out the doors.
You kept running until you made it to a gazebo, where you feel to your knees and attempted to catch your breath. The night air had a slight chill to it, shocking your system into working again. As your breathing became more steady, you started to really process what you had just learnt. Suddenly a voice sounded behind you.
“So, looks like that wasn’t only an announcement to the kingdom, but you as well.” Out of anger you met the face that went with the voice. Sir Pascal was leaning against the banister of the gazebo. Your eyes bore into him.
“And you’re not happy about it either.” He deduced, more to himself than to you. A scoff was all you could muster.
He lifted himself back to an upright position and walked towards you. He bent down to a squat next to you and handed a glass to you. You eyed it suspiciously.
“Water.” He said with slight amusement. “Not like I’d poison you or anything.”
“You almost chopped my head off the first time we met.”
This time he did let of a laugh, “You’re right, but if I knew who you were I wouldn’t have done it.”
“So if I wasn’t the princess, you would’ve just done it, no hesitation.” You took a sip from the cup.
“No, if you weren’t so beautiful, I would’ve done it, no hesitation.” You choked at his response, quickly you covered it by clearing your throat.
“Sorry, I’m betrothed.” You said with an eye roll.
“But you don’t want to be.”
“No, I do not.” You looked down into the cup.
“What do you want?” He moved from his squatting position, fully onto the floor next to you. He rested his head on his hand and leaned in a little closer. You could almost feel his breath on your neck.
“I’m really not sure. My whole life I’ve been trained to rule. I always knew I was stuck in this box of being princess and later I’d be even more stuck as queen. But I never thought my choice of love would be taken away.”
He hummed in response. A silence washed over the two of you.
“Marry me.” He spoke up suddenly after a minute or two of the silence.
“What?” Now it was your turn to be amused.
“Marry me.” He repeated, it was a statement not a question.
“And how would that solve my problem?”
“We can say we got married in secret, I have a few friends who would be witnesses. Plus that maid saw us together the other day.” He pondered for a second.
“So your solution to me getting out of a loveless marriage is to enter a fake loveless marriage?” Your eyebrows raised in a mix between confusion and curiosity.
“Yes. We say we got married in secret and consummated it, I’m sure the King of Corenth, won’t want a daughter-in-law that’s been deflowered.” He said the last word like it was a curse. “He’s old fashioned. He’ll want the perfect, obedient wife for his son.”
“You sound so sure.”
“Well I’m actually from Corenth, my mother used to work in the palace. She told me many stories.”
You nodded.
“What about my parents reactions?” You had forgotten about them entirely.
“I’m a pretty high ranking, officer in Corenth, I’m sure they can still work out a deal with them.”
There’s a silence again as you contemplate his plan.
“So?” He spoke up.
“You’re not tricking me right?” You were suddenly aware of the distance between you. You were also now aware of the things he was implying.
A/N: I couldn't sleep so this came up while I stayed awake the whole night.
.
.
What if you are sleeping in your boyfriend's bed when you are woken up by Javi, who sits beside you, peppering kisses from your back to your shoulder and snuggling his nose in your neck.
"Buenos dias mi amor," he would whisper, carressing your shoulders as he pulls away your hair fron your shoulders so he can keep splashing your skin with his lips.
"Mmm Javi..." You moaned happily, leaning back your head to him like a cat who wants more strokes. "Que hermosa manera de despertar asi," you tell him. You know how much he loves your spanish. You can feel him smiling proudly as he kisses your right shoulder.
"You look so beautiful I couldn't help it," He purred in your ear as his body leans more against yours. "What if I want you to stay in my bed all morning, huh?" He breathed in your cheek, pulling up your chin so he can softly kiss your lips. "O quédate asi conmigo toda la vida," He traces more kisses from your chin down to your neck.
"You have a deal, mi cielo," You replied softly, turning around as you wrap you arms and your legs around his body, never letting him go way from you.
.
.
Buenos dias mi amor : Good morning my love
Que hermosa manera de despertar asi : what a beautiful way of waking up like this
O quedate asi conmigo toda la vida : or stay like this with me my whole life
It wasn't soft by any means, but it was indeed warm. The warmth spread quickly and burned slowly. The pleasant feeling lingered and neither of them dared to moves a muscle.
The peck stayed longer than it was planned. It was never even planned in the first place but hell, no regret could pull him back to where he should be right now. She had to be the one who pulled away from him and brought him back to the present. By the time both of their lips parted from one another, he saw her eyes stay closed. Brows furrowed in something that he couldn't quite put a finger on.
It was a silence plea, stay.
When she finally opened her eyes, he put his forehead on top of hers. This time, he's the one who closed his eyes. Calloused thumbs gently stroke her cheeks. He can feel the strokes on her smooth warm skin underneath his thumb soften, her tears aiding it. She put a hand on his, squeezed the firm tensed muscles there and slowly looked up to him.
Maybe It was easier if he had already left. It was going to be a heck lot easier if she never found out in the first place. She used to feel like a big girl, a woman even, with nothing that can get in her way in this horrible horrible world.
She never even realized how much he matters. And only when he's about to leave, every ounce of courage leaves her as well.
Knowing this could be their last timeㅡtheir only time, and mostly, it would be. She drags him by his jaw, her thumb caresses the spot where his facial hair refused to grow, and put her soft lips on top of his warm flushed cheek. His eyes fluttered close and even more when he heard her shaky voice tells him:
What Love is Supposed to Feel Like. - Pedro Pascal.
requested! hope u really like it. and remember: to be loved is to be respected.
The film set was buzzing with quiet activity as the crew prepared for the next scene. You sat in a chair off to the side, scrolling through your phone mindlessly, until a notification lit up the screen.
Your stomach dropped. It was a DM—from him.
"I cheated on you two times and you keep coming back. Do I need to do it a third time for you to develop some self-respect?"
A sharp inhale caught in your throat. Your hands trembled as you stared at the message, disbelief warring with the dull ache of betrayal. You thought you had gotten past this. Thought that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But no. He had done it again. And this time, he was mocking you for staying.
"Hey."
Pedro's voice was warm, gentle. You hadn't noticed him approaching, but now he crouched down beside you, his eyes flicking between your face and the phone in your grip. "What’s going on?"
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words lodged in your throat. Tears blurred your vision as you exhaled shakily. Without thinking, you handed him the phone. He read the message, and the softness in his expression hardened into something else. Anger. Concern.
"You don’t deserve this," he murmured, setting your phone down on the table next to you. His hand found yours, grounding you. "You hear me? No one deserves this. Especially not you."
A tear slipped down your cheek. Pedro sighed, squeezing your hand before tugging you into a hug. It wasn’t rushed or awkward—just warm and steady, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. Like safety.
"He's an asshole," Pedro muttered into your hair. "And I swear, if I ever see him—"
A watery laugh escaped you. "You’d fight my ex for me?"
"Absolutely," he said without hesitation, pulling back just enough to look at you. "But more importantly, I’d remind you every day that you deserve better."
Months later, you realized just how right he was.
You sat curled up on Pedro’s couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders as the soft hum of music filled the space. He absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, his touch soothing and familiar. The past felt like a distant memory, a chapter closed.
"You seem happy," he mused, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You turned to him, heart swelling at the warmth in his gaze. "I am."
His smile was slow, teasing. "Think it has anything to do with me?"
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't deny it. "Maybe just a little."
Pedro chuckled, his fingers tilting your chin up before kissing you—slow and sweet, like he had all the time in the world to remind you how loved you were.
And for the first time in a long time, you knew you had found something real.
One evening, as you both sat on the balcony of his apartment, watching the city lights twinkle below, he turned to you with a serious expression. "Do you ever think about him anymore?"
You sighed, looking out at the skyline. "Not in the way I used to. There were nights where I’d lie awake, wondering what I did wrong. Why I wasn’t enough. But now... now I know it was never about me. It was about him. His choices. His flaws. Not mine."
Pedro nodded, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. "I’m glad you see that. Because you are more than enough. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you."
Tears pricked at your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from gratitude. Happiness. You leaned into him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. "Thank you," you whispered.
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "For what?"
"For showing me what love is supposed to feel like."
Pedro's arms tightened around you. "Anytime, mi amor. Anytime."
Pedro was lying next to you, his bare chest warm against the cool sheets. The two of you had been together for almost a year now, and despite the age gap, it rarely felt like an issue. Well, until moments like this.
You traced absentmindedly circles on his skin, letting out a dreamy sigh before joking, "You were the DILF I always dreamed of having."
Pedro’s body tensed slightly. His brows furrowed as he lifted his head to look at you. "What the fuck is a DILF?"
You turned your head to meet his gaze, already grinning. "Are you serious? You don’t know what DILF means?"
He shook his head, clearly unimpressed by his own lack of knowledge. "Should I?"
You bit your lip, enjoying the moment far too much. "It stands for ‘Dad I’d Like to Fuck.’"
Pedro blinked. Once. Twice. Then he scoffed. "I’m not even a dad!"
You laughed, rolling onto your side to face him. "It’s not literally about being a dad. It’s about… the vibe. You know, older, handsome, effortlessly sexy. Like, you’ve got that ‘seasoned and experienced’ thing going on."
He groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Jesus. You young people and your acronyms."
You giggled, prying his hands away from his face. "Come on, don’t pretend you’re not flattered. Also, this term isn’t even that new!"
He smirked, shaking his head as he looked down at you. "So, what… I’ve been walking around all this time exuding DILF energy and no one told me?"
You nodded solemnly. "Exactly. It’s honestly a crime that no one did."
Pedro exhaled, still processing the information. Then, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, he rolled onto his side, pressing his body closer to yours. "Well," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, "if I’m gonna embrace this whole DILF thing, I should at least make sure I’m living up to the name."
Your breath hitched as his fingers trailed lazily down your arm. "You know," you teased, tilting your chin up at him, "I think I can help you with that."
His lips curved into a knowing smile. "I was hoping you'd say that."
It was just another chaotic yet wonderful day at the kindergarten. She had spent the afternoon painting with the kids, which meant her dress was now decorated with tiny, colorful handprints, and there was definitely blue paint in her hair. To top it all off, one of her students had placed a pink princess tiara on her head, insisting that she looked "just like a real queen." Who was she to argue with that kind of logic?
By the time the final bell rang, she was exhausted but happy, making sure all the little ones were safely picked up by their parents. She barely noticed the sleek car pulling up to the curb until she heard a familiar voice call her name.
Pedro.
She turned, her heart immediately doing that ridiculous fluttering thing it always did whenever she saw him. There he was, leaning against his car, wearing that effortlessly cool look he always had—white t-shirt, silver chain, that lazy half-smile that made her knees weak. But as soon as he got a good look at her, his expression changed.
“Oh. My. God.” His mouth fell open, and for a second, she panicked, glancing down at herself. “What? Do I have something on my—oh, right. The paint.”
Pedro let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he walked toward her. “No, it’s not just the paint,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he took her in. “It’s the whole look. The tiara? The little handprints? The sheer dedication? I think I just fell in love with you all over again.”
She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were burning. “You say that like you didn’t already love me.”
“Oh, I did,” he said, placing his hands on her waist, completely ignoring the fact that he was now probably getting paint on himself too. “But this? Seeing you like this? Jesus, I don’t know if my heart can take it.”
She laughed, playfully shoving his chest. “Okay, Romeo. Let’s go before you start reciting poetry.”
Pedro dramatically clutched his chest. “You wound me.” Then, as she turned toward his car, he quickly reached up, adjusting the tiny pink tiara on her head. “No, but really. You’re actually the cutest human being on the planet.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, but the way her face heated up gave her away.
As they got into the car, Pedro leaned over and kissed her cheek, his lips lingering just a little longer than necessary. “For the record,” he murmured, “I’m never getting over this. Ever.”
She huffed, crossing her arms. “If you mention the tiara even once after today—”
“I’m buying you a whole collection,” he interrupted, grinning as he started the car. “Different colors. Maybe one for every day of the week.”
She groaned, hiding her face in her hands as he laughed, the kind of deep, warm laugh that made her stomach flip.
Before driving off, Pedro pulled out his phone, aiming the camera at her. “Wait, wait—don’t move. I need to capture this masterpiece.”
She gasped. “Pedro, no—”
Click. Too late. He grinned, admiring the photo. “This is going to be my new favorite picture of you.”
And as they drove off, Pedro kept sneaking glances at her, looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
Genre: smut!!!!! (a bit of fluff at the end), tbh this is a bit of a tease than full smut...my bad
Synopsis: When you agreed to become Professor Pascal's temporary Teaching Assistant, you never expected to stay more than a week. You especially didn't expect to fall in love.
Warnings: 18+ smut, just pure smut, Y/N insert, kissing, age gap, cursing, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, spanking, teasing, praise kink, please tell me if there is anything else!
Gif credits to owners!
Alright, you were kissing your boss. Actually you were making out with your boss, in his office.
The kiss was desperate, you could feel the months of pent up lust finally coming to the surface.
His hands met your waist, lifting you up onto his desk. He nudged himself in between your legs. He pulled away his eyes meeting yours.
"I need you to tell me this is okay, baby." He breathed onto your lips. You nodded.
"Words, baby, words."
"I want you to take care of me, use me, do whatever the hell you want to me." You answered. He chuckled and motioned towards your shirt.
"Take this off then." He said with a peck to your lips.
He stepped back to watch you unbutton your shirt. Shrugging it off your shoulders, leaving you there in your bra. You looked up at the professor to see his eyes staring at your half naked form.
You stepped towards him hands reaching for his belt buckle. He grabbed your hands before they could do anything. He shook his head at you.
"Nuh uh, you first." He walked you back into the desk, kissing you again.
His lips moved down your cheek to your neck. You could feel him leaving a hickey causing you to moan. He pulled back, seemingly satisfied with his work and continued to kiss down your body. He reached the top of your skirt.
He glanced up to see you totally entranced in his actions. He smirked to himself and got down onto his knees. Pushing your skirt up to your hips.
"Goddamn, this tight skirts you wear. You don't know how many times I've fantasized about you in these skirts."
Professor Pascal slowly pulled your panties down, leaving kisses on your thighs at the same time. He continued to kiss towards your core. He reached your center and left a kiss there too. Your body reacted to this involuntarily and in response he quickly licked across your slit. This caused you to gasp.
"Sir, please." You begged.
"Mmm, I like when you call me that."
He gave into your plead and attached his mouth to your clit, licking it slowly. The professor's tongue circled it and then dipped into your entrance. You moaned out.
He continued his licks as his hand moved up your thigh. He brought his index finger to your entrance and teased it. He entered the tip of his finger into you and then pulled it out again.
"Please, I need you inside me."
He obliged and inserted his finger into you. This made you a moaning mess, clenching your hands on the desk for any type of support. He quickly fucked you with his finger as he still sucked on your clit. After several harsh thrusts he inserted another finger.
"Sir, I'm...I'm so close." You moaned out.
He thrusted his fingers even faster, licking your clit in circles, helping you chase your high.
"I'm-" You were cut off by your orgasm crashing over you. You almost screamed out before his hand reached up to cover your mouth. The professor worked you through your orgasm before standing up.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and brought his lips to yours.
"Sorry-" He motioned to the hand that had been covering your mouth, "couldn't let anyone hear you cumming for me. You're mine."
You slung your arms behind his neck, smiling at him. "Oh is that what I am?"
"I mean if you want to be. I really want you to be..."
"Then I am."
He smiled and kissed you again. He lifted you off the desk and spanked you.
"Now bend that ass over my desk, I want to see how much of a good girl you can be for me."
You began to move to bend over the desk when a knock was heard at the door.
"Fuck, put your clothes back on darling."
You quickly found your shirt and buttoned it up again. He unlocked the door but didn't open it. He moved back to you, giving you another peck.
"We'll finish this another time." He pecked your lips again and glanced at your shirt. "Your buttons are done up wrong." He laughed.
You sighed and began to fix them. God this man would be the death of you.
