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theetherealbloom · 10 months ago

Text

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work,

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees.

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer.

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand.

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have.

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

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cillians-sweetheart · 2 months ago

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hello hon, how are you doing? if you're taking requests please i need to read a slow burn about jim tds x reader. large age gap, smut, whatever you wanna add!!!

Hello, I’m going great thank you :) and of course!! I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you were expecting but I hope you like it!! 🤍

The Teachers Possession- Jim TDS

Teacher!Jim(45) x Student!Reader(18)

Plot: When starting a new high school English class Y/N has been looking forward to, she meets a teacher who overtime begins to grow intensely obsessed with her. He craves every little of her, and daydreams of her to an unhealthy extent… which later leads to him risking everything to have her.

Content: age-gap, smut, extreme obsession and possessiveness, perverted and addictive thoughts and behaviours, masturbation (m), leg kink, kissing, unprotected pv, oral (f), desk sex, dub-con, online stalking, semi-public sex

(Because we don't know Jim's last name in The Delinquent Season, we're just gonna say his last name is Murphy in this scenario.)

Starting my final grade of highschool and second semester, I was placed into the advanced english class I’ve been meaning; and was excited to do.

The first few days were normal as they were just introductions and getting to know the classroom. The teacher had an unusual way of teaching and introducing. He was older, tall, fit, and uncomfortably observant. Eye contact felt like your eyes were melting when you looked at him. They were eyes so gentle, yet so terrifying.

I always found him quite alluring looking–different for sure–unlike others who either are all the way or not at all for him. I thought he was quite interesting with how he taught and talked.

After those few days, He stood in the front of the room with a paper gripped in his hand, and his eyes scanning over the room. Everyone became quiet and turned forward.

“Okay,” He pulled the paper up closer to his face. “I have made a seating arrangement.”

Kids groaned and complained to their friends sitting next to them. And Mr Murphy began pointing to seats, assigning them to peoples names. I sat waiting for him to call on me, and when he did, he held a long stare and pointed to the table directly across from his.

I grabbed my bag and moved to the front of the room at that one desk where you were so close you could read every sheet of paper on his desk. His eyes followed me to the desk, glued to my legs.

At first I did not like sitting so close to the front, or to the teacher, but as a week passed I hadn’t cared anymore. I was first in line to get the assignments, and always the first hand, and person he saw. To others it appeared I was the only person he saw. I personally had not noticed how much our eyes would meet during class, or how filthy his thoughts of me were.

When class began, he added to the lecture he gave yesterday. But his gaze would continuously turn to me and my sweet legs. Beneath the desk he would watch as my thighs shuffled and lifted. Deep in his mind–behind his knowledge of literature–were thoughts and fantasies of how good my little legs would look wrapped around his waist, and how my soft, pink lips would feel on his skin…

Nearing the end of the class while everyone began to pack their things, I took my time in finishing my assignment. I hadn’t been too worried about packing up before the bell as I hadn't had anywhere to be during my lunch break, nor anyone to meet up with.

When the bell did ring, kids ran from the room and crowded in the hallway. And before I was about to leave as well, Mr Murphy stopped me and called my name with a friendly smile.

“Y/N, stay for a moment.”

I paused with my bag on my shoulder and stood in front of his desk. “Oh okay” I grinned back at him and looked down into blue eyes.

My Murphy leaned back into his chair and exhaled, “How are you finding the class so far?”

“Good, good. I love writing so,” I chuckled.

He nodded, “That’s good… I’ve read some of your pieces, you are very talented.” His eyes trailed from my eyes, to my bare legs, “You have a gift.”

I blushed and my legs crossed while standing before him. “Thanks…”

His stare didn’t move from my legs as they shuffled, and as my dress slightly ran up my thighs. He nearly groaned to himself as his mind, and imagination ran into a vivid thought of me beneath him.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your writing,” His eyes snapped back to my face and he cleared his throat. “Your style… is so different. It goes against the normality of basic literature, but flows much better than the rest.” I smiled, flattered by his praise, “Incredibly unique you are. But definitely in a good way.”

“Thank you sir,” My cheeks went hot and pink, “I try.”

“You’re welcome,” His voice was gentle but firm. “You can go now.”

I nodded with my lips flattened and turned towards the door across the classroom. He stared, admiring the back of my dress and body. His sigh was heavy as he fell back into his chair, still his eyes not being able to pull away from my legs, thighs, and the little bits of my plushy bottom peeking out from underneath.

For the remainder of the day he was nothing but eager to be home, and alone. The tension from his fantasies and lust-filled thoughts soon became too hard to hide. His final lesson was spent sitting at his desk while he taught. He hadn’t dared let his secrets be revealed. Not until he could be alone.

And when he was, arriving to his house as soon as he could after that final bell, he slammed the door to his home and quickly walked up the stairs to his empty bedroom. His pants were eagerly kicked and pulled off, and his hard cock was held tightly in his hands.

Thoughts of my thighs around him, and my moans, filled his mind while he forcefully fucked his fist. He could just imagine the way my soft lips would feel wrapped around his thick cock; sucking him eagerly while on my knees.

He clutched tight and groaned as his cock rapidly twitched in his hand. With such vivid fantasies he couldn’t last more than 5 minutes. His breath came out hot and heavy making the air feel thick. He moaned deeply while his cum shot from his pulsing tip, the relief and satisfaction rushing over him from head to toe.

I on the other hand had not suspected there could be such tension between my teacher and I. I was completely clueless; naive to how he would act around me or while alone. An innocent mind as my own wouldn’t be able to comprehend such filth, and perversion that lived in Jim’s mind. And as time went on–day after day– the worse, and more obsessive he got. The sessions he had late at night became far more frequent, his phone filled with every photo of me he could find off social media, and his screen each night was soaked in his hot cum as he would finish on a photo of my ‘pretty, pretty face.’

It was an addiction he began to stop feeling guilty about. But it wasn’t just an addiction, he had fallen in love. A type of love he had never experienced, nor felt for anyone ever before. I was the one he wanted all to himself, the girl–if she loved him back– would do absolutely anything and everything for.

That next day at school while I entered his classroom, his eyes immediately darted from his computer screen to me, and my perfect legs that were hugged tightly by my thin leggings. I grinned to Mr Murphy as I came in front of both his and I’s desk.

“Good morning.” He spoke, and grinned in response to mine.

“Morning.” I set my bag down onto the floor next to my chair, and bent forward to dig for my books. I had not done it intentionally of course, but in his mind it really was.

Quickly his eyes glanced back to the kids who hadn't been paying attention at the back of the classroom, then while not being watched, he looked straight between my legs as I bent further and further to the deepest part of my bag.

Through the thin fabric he could see everything. My curvy butt and hips, and the outline of my plump pussy fully on display for him. He roughly grabbed at his pants and squeezed his cock beneath his desk. And before I were to stand back up he quickly grabbed his phone with his free hand and zoomed the camera in to take a picture. Just as he did I stood back up with my books and he was relieved to have been able to save this moment forever in his photo album.

As the class went on, in between his sentences I would notice his eyes meeting mine continuously. Like magnets being pulled closer and closer together. Again it was nothing I over thought about. I liked the attention, and thought nothing unusual about it. He would look at all his students this way, right?

But he hadn’t. No other woman, student, or being would ever be looked at the same as he looked at me. It was a look of adoration, and seduction; hidden beneath his pearly blue eyes. How truly alluring they were…

“Y/N.” He called on me.

“What?” I looked around the room, then to him.

“Tell everyone about your essay topic–and pay attention,” His gaze turned to the majority of the class. “This is what gets you a good grade on exams, and written assignments,” He pointed. “A real, intriguing paper.”

”Oh, um…” I froze while the students and Mr Murphy starred, awaiting my answer. Near the beginning of the class we were given the task to write an essay on how we believe that cruelness and discrimination can be cured within our society. Where, “I wrote about how though selfishness and tactlessness are unpleasant traits, they are what could reduce the amount of hate as people would be caring more about themselves rather than degrading and discriminating against others who are different.”

Mr Murphy shook his head and grinned to himself, “Brilliant…Different,” His tone got louder. “But new, different perspectives is what makes your study interesting. No teacher will find excellence in those who all say what they should believe, rather than what they truly believe.” He paused for a moment while his eyes scanned around the room to all the careless students. “Anyways, brilliant thought Y/N. Moving on.” He turned his back to the room and began to scribble onto the whiteboard behind him.

I was slightly embarrassed being called out in front of the class, but flattered to receive such praise from the teacher everyone called picky, and ‘hard to please.’ This class, being one I craved to do well in, and enjoyed, felt much lighter knowing I had the approval of my teacher. It made my stomach flutter.

After class, just as the bell rang, all the students ran from the classroom before Mr Murphy could say another word about. the homework assignment I hadn’t cared for so I didn’t try to escape it, or him.

Again I took my time packing and getting myself ready to go. I felt an unusual, but pulling energy between Mr Murphy and I. I could feel his eyes glaring like he was looking through me. It made me feel as if I couldn’t leave; his eyes holding me hostage. And with the classroom now being empty, the tension was stronger than ever.

Before I was about to leave, throwing my bag over my shoulder, Mr Murphy stood from his desk chair and came around his desk to me. Slowly his tall figure began to overlook me, my head rising higher the closer he got. My body felt heavy, as though it became filled with sand.

I looked up into his eyes and his large hand reached out to me. He slowly stroked my hair, and his fingers intertwined with the silky strands. My body weakened before his touch and I saw the hints of lust hiding beneath his eyes.

I hadn’t known what to say, or if I should say anything at all. But the energy between us spoke louder than any word ever could. And when his hand went from my hair to the delicate skin of my cheek.

"You're so beautiful..." He whispered, but noticed quite quickly his secret had been slipping and pulled his hand off my face. He cleared his throat and grabbed his phone off his desk, "I have a meeting to get to. See you tomorrow." I watched as he quickly walked out of the classroom, and my eyes lingered as I saw him disappear into the crowds or kids in the hall.

I didn't know what to feel besides confusion. It took me several minutes to pull my attention back into focus to leave the classroom. And when I did I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall for the remainder of my lunch break.

The feelings running through my mind and body were too much to handle. I was overwhelmed with both feeling flustered and unsettled.

Jim on the other hand looked as though he was fine but on the inside while sitting at his meeting felt his blood going cold; feeling both terrified and aroused. He wasn't able, nor did he care to pay attention to what any of the other English teachers had to say.

As school ended and I was on my way home the image of Mr Murphy and I wouldn't leave my mind. It didn’t feel right, but it didn't feel wrong either. The best option I had was to ignore it; push it deep into the back of my brain.

I wish I could say it worked, but of course it had not. Both Mr Murphy and I shared the experience of not being able to get off of one another's minds. From the very moment it happened to late at night when we both lied in our bed with two completely different thoughts, and ideas of each other…

Jim lied on his back holding the phone screen close to his face. He stared intently at the picture of my plushy butt and round, beautiful looking pussy; roughly beating his cock. He groaned heavily as he imagined just how good it would feel to pound his cock deep into me. Shoving, and forcing in every inch until I stretched painfully around him. There was nothing he could ever want more, and nothing that could stop him from making me completely his. He made it his mission to get what he wanted. No matter what was to happen, I would be made all for him.

So that next day–when English was my last period–he gathered himself and patiently waited until that final bell rang and the school would be empty.

“Y/N.” He called out to me firmly as I was about to leave the classroom. I stopped just in front of the door and turned to him.

He stood by his desk, with his hands in his jean pockets; an unsettling look held deep in his eyes. “Close the door.”

I closed the door behind me slowly and my body felt cold in fear. “A-Am I in trouble?” I asked with my voice quiet and fearful.

Mr Murphy grinned and lowered his head. “No,” He looked back up to me. “Not at all.”

I felt relief wash over me and my blood returned back to my face. Still I was nervous as to why I was made to stay here, but how bad could it be if I wasn't in trouble?

“So why did you want me to stay?” I asked delicately while slowly walking towards him. His gaze lowered and softened the closer I got to him.

“I just want to be with you…” He paused, admiring me with his eyes. “Do you know how perfect you are?” He said suddenly.

I blushed; going a deep red, and my heart sank into my stomach. “N-No”

My Murphy took long steps towards me, and our bodies became just inches away from each other. His hand came down to my face, and his rough skin caressed my cheek lovingly. My eyes and legs fluttered to his touch. I couldn’t look away…

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…” He whispered while his thumb rubbed over my lips. “No one could ever love you more than I do.”

“Really?” My eyes were big, and filled with submission looking up to him as his other hand came to my face. He didn't say anything, but lightly rubbed my soft cheeks with his thumbs. I’d been so lost in his gaze that I hadn't noticed his face coming closer to mine. Not until he pulled my face into his and kissed my lips.

I froze as he kissed me, but the more he did, the more right it began to feel. I kissed back and felt the tension rising between us. My hands ran up his neck, and his glided down my sides to my hips. He pulled me tight against his body; not leaving an inch between us.

He lifted beneath me and sat me down onto the edge of his desk. Our lips had not separated, but became more sloppy and intimate. And his hips leaned in between my legs to press tightly against me. He groaned into my lips, and I felt a hard poke against my clothed pussy.

On the inside my heart was pounding against my chest, with anxiety but also the adrenaline of need and excitement. Mr Murphy’s rough hands squeezed at my hips, and his fingers dug into the sides of my pants. He pulled me in closer to him as he eagerly jerked my pants down over my thighs, and legs.

Once he began, he couldn't stop himself. Jim’s hands caressed every inch of my bare skin that he could. It made him painfully hard, feeling just how real and soft I was.

His lips kissed down to my neck while he desperately undid his belt, pulling it from his pants. It hit the floor with a clang, along with my panties that he ripped from my legs. He then pulled his lips away from me and straightened himself. I looked up to him with submissive eyes while he quickly took his cock from his pants. My eyes glared down at him, and I felt fear run through my body. There was no way that could fit in me.

He rubbed his wet, pink tip along my sensitive, virgin pussy. I looked back up at him and he groaned at the sight. It didn't feel real at all. He needed to give himself reassurance, something to prove that it was real and not again one of his fantasies.

With one quick movement he thrusted his hips and shoved his cock deep into my small hole. I whimpered loudly and my skin stretched. Mr Murphy groaned deeply, feeling me squeezing around him and he began to pull back. He looked me in the eyes while he forcefully thrusted his thick cock into me again. I bit at my lip and moaned with both pleasure and pain.

His hands gripped onto the desk and his hips began to pound faster, and harder into my tiny pussy. My whimpering and moaning got louder as I felt such things I’ve never had before. And Jim felt as though he was gonna finish already. With the obsession he's had, and the fantasies he's created, there was no way he could last alone, so how would he while inside my real pussy.

Mr Murphy couldn't pull his eyes away from between us. He moaned at just how good it felt and how cute my pussy looked, swallowing his every inch.

“You like that?” He huffed and grabbed my face. All I could do was moan and nod. “Oh you’re such a good girl.” He thrusted harder, making my eyes widen and my lips gasp. The look on his face was feral and demanding as he beat between my legs. “Fuck….I’m gonna cum,” He panted; I grew louder with high pitched moans. The sounds of both him and I, and the slapping of his cock in my wet pussy, filled the darkening room.

Jim grabbed beneath my thighs and pulled me in tighter against him. His cock sunk deeper into me and he held my legs up, spreading them as far as they could go. I couldn’t look away from what he had been doing to me. It all happened so quickly, but felt unbelievable.

My whimpers became more desperate for him, and my eyes returned up to his. With that, as his eye met mine he groaned and shot his thick cum into my cervix. I watched him, and looked deep into his eyes while he came in me. Something about it just made me crave more.

He gasped and panted, slowly thrusting and emptying himself into my tiny hole. And when he pulled out I felt a wave of emptiness… but it soon filled as he quickly fell to his knees, forcefully spreading me to fuck me with a tongue.

My whole body shivered as I felt his wet tongue overstimulating my sensitive clit and hole. I cried out a sweet sound that rehardened his cock. He could’ve never expected me to taste such a way, and the way those blue eyes looked up to me while he licked in such delicate circles made my legs shake.

I was soft on his tongue, and so sweet. Beneath the desk and began to again forcefully beat his cock in his hand. He moaned and whimpered into my pussy, while still managing to lick profusely.

My teeth clenched down onto my bottom lip and my fingers held tightly onto the wooden desk. I was so lost with my eyes disappearing into the back of my head, I hadn’t noticed Jim cumming again and again. And for me, I could feel my body becoming overwhelmed with the intense, tight feeling both his cock and tongue had caused me. My body grew hot and my legs shook and shot up. His tongue with a great speed licked, and sucked at my clit, and thick amount of wetness spread onto his face and my inner thighs.

Those beautiful lips of his glistened with my wetness as my stomach turned and ached with pleasure. He could feel me pulse against his lips, and his tongue slowed and eased with my orgasm as it faded away.

He pulled me through it all and it had been the best thing i'd ever felt and done. And for him, he could say the same as his cock dripped and fell weak. Mr Murphy stood back to his feet and tucked himself back into his pants. He leaned into me and kissed me gently, making me taste myself on his lips. “Oh I love you,” He moaned between breathless kisses.

And what felt almost instinct, I said, “I love you too.” And grabbed his hair pulling his lips down harder against mine.

”Why don't you let me drive you home baby,” He panted and just barely took his lips from mine. “And I’ll tell you just how much I need you.”

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