Oscarhoney

Neither of you had to speak, not in this moment at least, simply content to sit across from each other while the fuzzy scratch of a vinyl played.

Cherry pie and fizzy cola sweetened the air. Ruffled hair then a pair of gentle brown eyes belonging to Pedro swept over you, bringing out the warmth in your cheeks. 

He’d come over for dinner tonight, and though you were distracted more than a couple times with the inevitable shoulder bump rotating around your kitchen as you prepped ingredients together, there wasn’t a moment you weren’t smiling—or in a fit of laughter, god only knows who started it by now. 

You liked these moments best, when it was just the two of you getting to enjoy each other’s company. Something about his presence was so deeply calming you could feel everything slowing down. 

There was no rush, no urgency to do or be anything but yourself around Pedro and it never failed to thrill you. 

That’s how you felt now, watching him clear space on the table, dessert plates and that bottle of his favorite wine moved out of the way, making room for your hands to stretch out, the tips of your fingers meeting his before you’re passing lazy circles over the warm skin of his knuckles.

“How are you so beautiful? I could look at you for hours.” Pedro sighs and you’re beaming. 

The look on his face is soft and warm and you want to curl up against his chest, stray thoughts sparking at the thought of his arms around you; how lately his hold on you, the grip, the heaviness of his hands was stronger and you were more enticed by it than you realized. 

So you shrug, trying to hide the way your chest feels flush at his compliment, “Guess I do it without even trying…I never get tired looking at you either you know.” 

You tease back but there’s a little suggestion in your tone, making him shift in the chair, head tilting to the side while you watch him cross his arms, hands clasped and resting on his chest. 

Now with more relaxed posture your attention was drawn to his lap instead of his hands, right to the way his shirt had ridden up. Just a peek of his tummy under the fabric reminding you of how badly you’d been thinking of and wanting him all day. 

“Nah, this face? I think I have the best view by far.” He scoffs but his steadily widening smile matches yours. 

“Yeah that face, which by the way is depriving mine of kisses right now and I think that’s kind of mean.”

It’s the fake huff and pout you do that really sells it. His grin turns playful before leaning in, warm and steady hands finding a familiar home against the curve of your jaw. 

His nose just barely brushes yours before your mouths meet with a soft hum and suddenly you’re getting swept up in the way his lips taste like sugar and wine and how it lingers even after he pulls back.

“Can I help you clean up and you can pick what we listen to this time?” He coaxes you sweetly but you don’t need any convincing, his words are snagged just a second behind in your mind, however, still occupied with thoughts of him and only him. 

“Yes, please! Hope you don’t mind a little Lust for Life.”

—

Now it’s Pedro’s turn to be distracted, watching when you weren’t looking as you dried and put away dishes, your “concentrated on the current task” face so endearing he can’t help but sneak side glances as he finishes up washing the last few plates in the sink. 

He was happy that you looked at ease and took note of all the things about you that took his breath away, a whole list unending. 

The slope of your nose and those brown eyes, brown skin, the sound of your laugh like an anchor in unsteady waters, nevermind the caress of your hands, your skin on his, always reaching for him, it all made him feel like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.   

It’s not hard for him to find things about you he adores and especially tonight, it all bubbles up in his chest and he wants nothing more than to press you against him and kiss you dizzy. 

Nothing compares, nothing and no one can light that fire that burns so molten just for you, flashes of sunset on your features and the aura of love everywhere feeling like home. 

There’s flowers in a vase by the window, the same ones he stopped by to give you earlier that week, just a simple effort to brighten your day when he knew you’d been stressed. Reds and oranges pop as the sun bathes the sweet smelling blooms in light and Pedro smiles again, reminded of how your eyes lit up when he showed up at your door, your body melting into his when he scooped you up for a hug. 

Now, you’re speaking to him again and his focus is renewed, indulging in your suggestions for things to do with the rest of your evening together, knowing already that it didn’t matter what transpired, as long as he was here with you, he was happy.

Afterwards, your head is in his lap and the rest of your body is curled up close while a movie plays but neither of you are really paying that much attention to what’s happening on the screen. 

Pedro’s fingers brush across your shoulder and down your back while his other hand was draped across your hip had you once again distracted and restless, his hold is gentle but the sureness of his hands and the weight of his arms only made your core ache. 

You wanted him so bad and weren’t sure if you could keep it to yourself any longer. 

The couch is almost too comfy underneath you to shift from the position you’re in but the sight of his hands gives you the final push that you need, turning so you were facing him, cheek resting on his thigh. 

Looking up at him steals your words, caving when he notices and glances down at you with the softest expression, the one that’s especially soft for you. 

You almost don’t register him whispering hello to you, caught up in the streaks of gray in his beard and the ones peppered in his hair that are your favorite, down to his neck that you can’t ever seem to stop yearning to leave a trail of love bites over and the broad edges of his shoulders that carry so much without wavering. 

A million things race through your mind and you’re flustered when you whisper back, hoping he won’t be able to feel the way your cheeks tingle with heat but the pad of his thumb is already sweeping over your temple. 

“You know I’m really impressed with how patient you’ve been tonight. I’m trying to keep up but, baby,” his amused hum brings relief, “You’re making that a challenge.” 

He knows what kind of mood you’re in and it’s been mutual the entire night and even you’re surprised at the thrill that runs up your spine at this realization and at his praise for your restraint. You want more. 

“I just wanted to savor it.” 

“And now how bad do you want me?”

“More than anything..” 

It sounds like a plea and you’re not ashamed to beg but you are a bit shy about having your desire so displayed. 

Though there wasn’t any need for worry, Pedro always encouraged and nourished any of your wants, so leaning into the tension felt easy, just as easy as it was for your heart to quicken automatically at the sound of his voice. 

Watching him then, breaths shallow and the very center of you aching to be touched before you’re holding back a gasp, big hands hauling you to sit up, then nudging you across his lap. 

“I need you too. C’mere.” 

You’re already pressed close but he says it with so much love that you wrap yourself around him further, not needing to be told twice. 

There’s hunger in this kiss, pulling you in, knocking something loose inside you that pushes you to sink right into the affection you knew had no end. 

Hands roam, his, sweeping down over your neck and shoulders and yours bracing against his torso. His tummy is soft and toned and you can feel the way he hums in his chest when your touches move further up, just itching to rest on those strong shoulders of his. 

Your living room felt like a hundred degrees with each well placed kiss to your lips and then across your jaw, so searing even when he’d given you a second to catch your breath. Not that it mattered because your next breath came as a whimper when his mouth found a sensitive sliver of skin at your neck. 

His responding grunt and laugh make you squirm without thinking, rocking against the thickest part of his thigh, both of you sighing in relief at the contact and you find yourself chasing that jolt of pleasure with another unconscious circle of your hips.

Pedro helps you then, both hands keeping a steady pressure on your waist to give you some leverage while you find the right rhythm. 

It made you whimper seeing how much he wanted you to do what felt good, encouraging you to go the pace you wanted which only drove the sound of your little whines and huffs of breath to desperation. 

Pedro can’t decide what’s better, those sweet little sounds or the sight of you riding him looking so grateful for it or if it’s how you’re clinging to his shoulders with the same desperation that’s laced in your moans. 

Either way you made him throb, god if you knew just how much you affected him on the daily. 

As if you could tell what he was thinking you reached a hand down to steady yourself against his waist and the low gasp you let slip said everything. 

He’s hard and his jeans are strained and it makes you smile to yourself proudly, working your hips down on him a little harder thinking about how deep he’d be if you were riding his dick instead.

“Yeah there you go…so fuckin pretty, baby.” he praised you again and again, leaning his head back against the couch so he could keep watching. 

He coaxes you to look at him too and you can barely keep eye contact with how adoring and filthy his gaze is but you try, for him you try and you swear you can feel just how soaked you are from this alone. 

“Please, I need more.”

It drives you crazy still having all these clothes on and you can tell he feels the same, helping you take his shirt off when you tug at it. His hands then find their way underneath the hem of yours and pull it up and over your head swiftly. 

You move off him with some reluctance after that but your skin is still tingling and you’re being spun around just seconds later to face his knees. 

Catching on is easy despite your state of arousal; it’s haziness. You follow his lead, bending over a little and sticking your ass out, waiting patiently for him to scoot forward on the couch and slip your bottoms off. 

He’d never make you wait long, even if the seconds feel like minutes. Your feet shift in anticipation when the last scrap of fabric drops to the floor, heart racing.

His breath fans across your skin and you bite your lip when he kisses the curve of your ass, thick fingers grabbing and kneading flesh before tugging you open so he could see. A hushed string of curses make their way to your ears and you’re arching your back just a little more, hoping he’ll do what you think he’s gonna do. 

You peek back over your shoulder and watch too, his eyes flicking up to yours and you notice the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lips like he’s making sure he really has your attention when he moves in to bury his face in your pussy. 

The resounding groan from both of you is loud, wanton and you’re already reaching back to slide your fingers into his hair while he tastes you further, his tongue dragging the sweetest circles over your clit, paying close attention to the way your body responds. 

If you were soaked before you’re a complete mess now. 

Prickles of heat skitter across your spine and settle in your abdomen with each pass of his tongue over your folds and his nose nudging against you unabashedly.  

It’s enough to bring you to your knees, you can feel the way your thighs start to tremble but you keep grinding back, your grip on his hair balancing the tilt of your hips while his hands keep you spread open for him. 

He’s obsessed with how you taste, how you shudder when his mouth closes around your clit, how he can feel you clenching when his tongue presses against your entrance, greedy only for what he can give you. 

You’re so good for him, always so good and he can’t help but reward you, spoil you, content to eat you out until you tell him otherwise. 

Savoring every bit of this, you don’t realize how worked up you really are until you’re whining, needing more, needing him to stuff you full and make you forget where your bodies begin and end. 

Chants of “please” leave your lips in whispers, until the words are choked out moans. “Please, please fuck me. I want you so bad, Pedro…just please…” 

“Mm I will, honey. Turn around for me, I want you right here.” his voice is deep rasp now and you’re moving immediately. 

The air feels charged now, your blood singing, every part of your body feeling every bit of the tension coursing through you. 

Your knees dip into the cushions and you tilt your hips up high again, laying your cheek on the back of the couch, smiling as you watched him position you how he wanted and then finally, slip out of his pants. 

Something about being on your knees, perched over the couch like this while he stands so tall and broad over you makes everything feel so much hotter, your hips swaying a little, trying to be seductive and inviting now that he was stroking his cock, coming closer and closer until the tip was sliding across the slick puddle between your thighs. 

“Is this what you’ve been wanting? Just wanna be fucked already, huh?” he grinds against you, slicking himself up and you’re nearly panting now, nodding your head. “I’ve got you, baby.” 

You reach down to help him find the right angle as he presses against your entrance, pushing in slow and steady, letting you adjust to the stretch with every inch he gives you. 

“Ohh…” the rest of your moan is muffled but he can hear it, the slight strain in the symphony of your pleasure when his hips sit flush with yours. 

Pedro takes in the sight of you again, grinning when you look back at him, craning your neck.

He knows exactly what he has to give you, making sure you can see the flash of his length shiny with your juices as he pulls back just to push into you again, not holding back as much now that he knew you were ready for more. 

He loves that you can’t help but watch, proud of you for taking him so well and begging for more already, a hand smoothing down your back, massaging the curve of your hips before he grips you tightly. 

Your eyes flutter closed when he leans down so you’re caged by his chest, the only thing you can see or feel is his body now, moving against yours just how he knows you like it. 

It feels so good, every bounce of your ass against his hips, the way he peppers kisses across your shoulder and over your neck, fucking you just a little deeper each time. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groans against your ear and you’re whimpering again, letting him hold you where he liked, taking what he gives you, gasping each time he knocks against that spot that makes your muscles tremble. 

“Oh my god! Don’t stop, don’t stop!” your breaths are strangled, pushed from your chest with deep thrusts.  

His lips graze over your shoulder again and you think he’s going to leave more kisses but this time you feel teeth graze over the soft spot between your neck and your collarbone, biting down gently but enough to make it ache. 

It makes you push your hips back into him, crying out when his mouth stays there on your neck. His hips drop to grind against you giving you nowhere to squirm to and you’re sure you’re seeing stars when he snakes a hand around to your front, first pressing against your tummy before his fingers are circling your clit in tight motions. 

“That’s it, baby. My good girl, go for it.” he encourages when he feels your walls start to clench around him, knowing you’re so close you can almost touch it. 

High moans and curses bubble up from your throat as you’re sent crashing into your orgasm, your mind already floating listening to him talk you through it, tethering you to him and grounding you in your body as you rode out the waves of pleasure racking your body, his thrusts only slowing but never stopping. 

It takes a second for you to feel like you can breathe again but as you look back at him, this time it isn’t so hard to keep your eyes on his, your mood even filthier now than before and you knew he was picking up on it too.

Slick sweat covers your bodies and you’re aching for more when you reach back to touch him, your fingers pinching his skin just as he started to pick up pace again, never tiring of the slap of skin and how you clutched at whatever part of him you could. 

He hoped you knew just how much he desired you and cherished you always and if you didn’t, he was about to spend every hour he could reminding you. 

Dusk was settling on the horizon now and you were buried in the cushions, telling the man you loved just how much you needed him, just how much you wanted to cream around him again and again and it is exactly where you want to be tonight and every night.

Right at home.

———

A/N: Peep the Lust for Life Lana album mention 🍒🥰 I was listening to Cherry and then Cola pretty much all throughout the writing process and well here we are! Also wanted to say that I approached this fic with it being RPF with as much respect for Pedro as possible and hope that comes through in my words. I wanted this fic to have a ~passionate and loving but hot and dirty~ feel to it and I think it’s giving that so !!! I had a lot of fun with this!

Thank you so much for reading <3

you're mine (smut, angst, dark)

Steve loves showing off what’s his, you. What does eh do when he sees someone staring at what is his?

i need more (fluff, smut)

You’d been off all day and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Steve. He’d do anything to make you feel better so when you started begging him to help you have some release, he didn’t hold back.

ruined orgasm - kinktober (smut)

He had given you one rule: do not interrupt the meeting. So, of course you had to walk straight into the meeting that had all of America’s most noterious gangsters

steve's birthday wish (P.1) (fluff, smut, angst)

It was approaching Steve’s birthday and you had no idea what to get him. Bucky suggests just asking the Mafia boss what he would like, but would you regret your decision when you hear what Steve truly wants.

When Two Become Three (P.2) (fluff, smut)

It has been a few weeks since Steve sat back and watched your be pleasured by his best friend Bucky, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Especially, the part where Steve confessed his fantasy to have a threesome, but would you ever agree to it?

one more meeting (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

For all of the years that you had known Steve and Bucky, you had never seen them lose control of their anger. All of the murder and violence always being calculated, calm, and dangerous. But today, that all changed and for the first time in years, you were truly scared of the boys you loved.

repeat after me(fluff, smut, angst)

It wasn’t often that you had to attend a party with your boyfriends but today, you found yourself at one, filling you with anxiety and dread. How will the boys react when they find you close to a panic attack and starting to doubt their love for you?

how many?(fluff, smut)

Steve had finally found time to take you and Bucky on holiday. What he doesn’t tell you however is that today, he wanted to see just how many times he and Bucky could get you to orgasm.

i can’t lose you (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers but for years, you'd never had to experience this. Until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger?

no touching (fluff, smut, angst)

You blatantly ignored their instructions and now you had to suffer the repercussions for your actions.

i don’t care (fluff, smut)  

'The reader having a menstrual cycle, this one just a little worse than others, and Steve and Bucky worrying and helping her through it.'

the one weakness (fluff, smut, angst) 

It wasn't often you were by yourself so when you quickly go to the coffee shop, what happens when the enemy is watching and waiting nearby.

overwhelming (fluff)

It had been your birthday a few days ago and both Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party followed by intense, long nighttime activities. However as you lay in bed on Monday morning, something just didn't feel quite right.

the fun game  (fluff, smut)

Steve and Bucky had forgotten about your date, leaving you waiting for two hours in the restaurant. How will they react when you decide to play your own little game as payback and, how far can you go before they finally snap?

harder, please  (fluff, smut, angst)

Your mind was clouded with lust and pleasure, as you begged repeatedly for more from Bucky but, what happens when you get hurt in the process?

protect and forget  (fluff, smut, angst) 

Life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing, everything did not always go to plan. Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. What happens when Steve and Bucky begin to push you away as they search for the threat?

All Eyes On You  (smut)  

“Do you know what we would have done if we had turned up to that restaurant and seen you all dolled up like that? We would have bent you over the table in front of everyone and shown them exactly who you belonged to". - Steve Rogers

you belong to me  (fluff, smut, angst)

These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why is it that they thought it was ok to have their hands all over them?

dont fall asleep  (fluff, smut, angst)

It was supposed to be a normal day, but not in fate's eyes as you and Sam are hit by a drunk driver. How will Steve and Bucky react when they hear their girls been hurt?

rule number one.  (fluff, smut, angst)

It was Bucky's birthday but even a surprise party won't stop Steve and Bucky from punishing you for not looking after yourself.

Last Hope (CH. 1) (CH. 2)  (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

Before dating Steve and Bucky, your life felt like a steel cage that you couldn't escape from because of your family business. There was no happiness or hope but, what happens when the infamously heartless mafia leader, Steve Rogers, finds you alone?

our little bean  (fluff, angst)    

You stared unblinking at the Doctor who had just told you the news you couldn't quite comprehend. You were on birth control, so why is the test in his hands saying that you're pregnant?  Accidents happened but is this a happy one? (Yes it is).

the limit  (fluff, smut, angst)

Everyone has a limit, this includes Steve and Bucky. What happens in different situations where each of you felt compelled to use your safewords?

sick day (fluff)

Bucky had warned you that dancing in that rain without a coat would lead you to be ill, maybe you should have listened more to his warning.

accident’s happen (fluff, smut, angst) 

You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

everyone is breakable  (fluff, smut, angst)

Steve and Bucky were invincible in your eyes. They'd never been injured or in a situation where you thought they weren't the ones in control. That is until one day Bucky doesn't return from meeting with a client.

winter soup  (fluff, smut, angst)

There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

something new   (smut)

The mafia leader was known to be possessive and enjoy showing off his girl but what happens when he wants to do this by being intimate in front of his gang?

pegging - kinktober  (smut)

Steve had once instructed bucky how to pleasure you but what happens when you’re the one being given the instructions?

cockwarming - kinktober (smut)

You’re feeling needy and restless so Steve offers you something to suck on, much to Bucky’s amusement.

double penetration in one hole - kinktober  (smut)

You were adament to prove Steve wrong and do something you’ve never done before.

fear play - kinktober (smut, dark)

You woke up to darkness, your phone was missing and, all you could was silence echoing around the house but, you knew you weren’t alone.

role reversal - kinktober  (smut)

For once, you were the one shouting at the enemy, demanding that they leave your office. Steve and Bucky were in awe so you tried to keep up this confidence and burn off some energy with them.

Duke, Duchess and Knights  (fluff, angst)

You get so lost in the fantasy dream that when it turns into a nightmare, you're not sure what reality is when you wake up screaming.

Merry Christmas (fluff, smut)

It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

Safety Measures (Angst, Smut, Fluff)

It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.

Drabbles

The first to give their jacket when reader is cold

Mad & Sad moments

Saying the wrong thing

TikTok trend: no kissing

Who is more protective?

safe space in your new home

“Well that was quite the interview, babe,” you said with a smirk when your husband came into the living room.

Henry chuckled lightly. “You saw that, huh?”

“I got 30 text messages from family and friends with links to the video literally 10 minutes after it aired.”

He blushed. “Sorry, sweets. I didn’t know how to respond and I panicked.”

You laughed warmly. “Well you didn’t lie…”

He grinned. “You’re my favorite cardio.”

“I think I prefer running,” you teased.

His expression darkened and he gave you an almost predatory look. You felt wetness pool in your panties and you bit your lip as you stared at him.

“You sure you wanna tease me right now, (Y/N)?”

You shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s kinda fun.”

He took a step towards you, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah? You know the rules, sweets.”

“Rules?” you asked, tone light. “I can’t seem to remember any rules.” You knew exactly what your bratty behavior would do to him and you couldn’t wait for your reward.

He crossed the room in a moment, bending down to pin you against the couch, arms on either side of your body. His pupils were blown with lust and desire oozed from every pore in his body. “It sounds like you need to be reminded, princess.”

You nearly moaned at the pet name. Whenever Henry called you princess, you knew he was going to dominate the hell out of you.

Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by your husband. “You want me to remind you? I’d be more than happy to put you back in your place.”

“My place?” you teased.

Henry let out a low growl. “Get your ass into the bedroom so I can fuck the brat out of you.”

You loved when he spoke so harshly to you. Your pussy was dripping and you had to rub your thighs together as you stood up, desperate for some kind of relief.

Once again, Henry noticed. “Already desperate, baby? Such a sweet little slut,” he murmured as he slapped your ass.

You gasped in surprise at the intensity of his smack. You turned to look at him, eyes filled with intense need. “Only for you, sir.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Bed. Now.”

You ran into the bedroom, tearing clothes off as you went, Henry not far behind you. You flopped down onto the bed, completely bare, as your husband entered the room in nothing but his tie and boxer briefs.

Your mouth watered as you took in his gorgeous body. Your entire body pulsated with need and you wanted to drag the man on top of you and use him for your own pleasure.

“Hands on the headboard,” he said firmly as he came up to the head of the bed.

You did as you were told, watching him secure your wrists to the headboard with handcuffs. He took off his tie and used it to blindfold you.

You whimpered softly, earning a much softer tone from Henry. “You okay with this, sweets?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He grinned. “That’s my good girl.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss to your forehead. “Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Words, pretty girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect.”

You hated not being able to see what he was doing, but you couldn’t deny that you were more turned on than you’d been in ages. Henry was usually a pretty soft dom, but in moments like these, you weren’t sure what he would do. He could be deliciously brutal when he wanted to be.

You could hear Henry moving around, and you were dying to see what he was doing. You whimpered softly and tugged at the handcuffs, trying fruitlessly to escape them. “Henry,” you whined.

“Patience, my love.” His voice carried to you from the other side of the room and you once again wondered what he was doing.

You were soon informed by a light tickling sensation on your feet. You giggled lightly, unable to contain the sound as the sensation traveled up one leg and down the other.

You knew without being able to see that Henry had pulled out some of his favorite items from the sex box in your closet. The current one was a feathered tickling wand that he just loved to tease you with.

“You know there is absolutely no need to torture me, Hen. I’ll be good, I promise,” you say softly.

“Oh my sweet girl, we are past the point of promises. You behave like a brat, you get treated like one.”

With that, Henry went back to teasing you relentlessly with the feathers, never once giving you the firm touch you really needed.

After several minutes, you heard the telltale sound of a vibrator being turned on. Moments later, you felt the cool silicone against your burning pussy, eliciting a gasping moan from you.

Instead of giving you what he knew you wanted, Henry slowly inserted the vibrating dildo into your dripping hole and left it there.

You whined and shifted your hips, trying to get more friction where you really needed it. “Henry, please,” you begged.

You felt a harsh slap against your thigh. “What did you call me?”

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to, I just want you so badly.”

"It's okay, baby girl, I know you do." You felt his hot breath against your ear. "But I'm gonna take as much time as I want."

He nipped at your ear gently before once again pulling away. You groaned in frustration, but kept your thoughts to yourself to avoid further punishment.

To your surprise, you felt a sharp swat against your inner thigh. You gasped loudly as another smack hit your thigh. You whimpered softly and desperately tried to close your legs, but Henry's large body was wedged between them. He chuckled lightly and gently rubbed your thigh.

You felt a pinch on your left nipple, followed by a pinch to your right, as Henry secured his favorite nipple clamps to your breasts. Before you could say a single word, you felt the riding crop smack against your thigh again.

You loved the way he tortured you, the pain a welcome feeling, but you were begging him to give you some relief. "Sir, please," you whimpered.

"Please what, pretty girl?"

"I need you, sir, please."

"Aww, my sweet girl needs me to touch her sexy little body?" he teased.

"Please," you whimpered again.

You felt his large hands rest against your hips. "How could I possibly deny you, my love?" His voice was low and affectionate, but you knew he would be as harsh and as rough as he liked.

Henry got off the bed and you whined again, already missing his touch.

"Be patient, love," he insisted.

You heard him removing his boxer briefs and your mouth began to water involuntarily. Your hips jerked up, seeking any kind of friction, but there was none to be found.

"You're so needy," he teased as he grabbed your left ankle.

To your surprise, he wrapped a soft rope around your ankle and secured it to the end of the bed. "Can't have you moving around," he said as he quickly secured your other ankle.

By the time Henry actually got back on top of you, your entire body was on fire with a desire so intense that you were finding it very difficult to think.

When his large hands gripped your thighs, you whimpered softly. He ignored you and slid a single finger between your folds, collecting a large amount of slick.

"You're so wet for me, sweets." You felt his finger against your lips and he said, "Open up."

You did as you're told, and he slides his finger into your mouth. You moan softly as you taste yourself on your tongue. Henry gripped your jaw and held you still as you sucked his finger clean.

"That's it, baby. So sexy."

When he removed his finger, he pulled the dildo out of your pussy and shut it off. You whimpered at the loss of contact, desperation to feel him touch you threatened to overwhelm you.

"Shh," he whispered. "Such a needy little thing."

Your hips jerked up, your body desperately seeking relief anywhere it could be found. You couldn't see him, but you were certain Henry was purposefully shifting to avoid touching you where you needed him most. It was driving you crazy, and you started begging in earnest.

"Please, sir, touch me. Just do something, anything. I'll do whatever you want sir, just please...please," you whimpered.

Henry's large, warm hands gently caressed your thighs. "I could never deny such sweet pleas, my love. You clearly need me, so I shall oblige."

You could hear the movement, as well as feel his body shifting around, but no matter how you shifted your head, you couldn't see what he was doing. Was he about to thrust into you? Finger you? Eat you out?

Seconds later, you found out as he licked a thick stripe up your pussy, moaning at the taste. You gasped at the sensation, your body overly sensitive from all the teasing.

He moved slowly, taking his time licking you and sucking at your clit, ignoring your pleas to speed it up. It was obvious he was in control and he wasn't going to give it up that easily.

As he continued eating you out, your brain was filled with blinding pleasure. All you wanted was to grab his hair and push him into your pussy...but you couldn't move. You wriggled against the bonds on your legs and arms, struggling to free yourself so you could touch him.

Henry felt your movements and lifted his head to look at your face. Even with your eyes covered, he could see how desperate you were. "What's wrong sweet girl?"

"I--I wanna touch you, sir. Need to. Please."

Henry hummed approvingly, but made no move to untie you. "Beg for me, pretty baby."

You started rambling, words pouring from your mouth almost nonsensically. "Need touch you please can't take it please sir I need you wanna feel you please."

He laughed at your garbled words. "I love it when you beg, baby, but I'm sorry. I'm just not ready to untie you yet." Without another word, he dove back in, eating you out with renewed vigor.

You cried out in pleasure, your climax building within you. Somehow, not being able to touch him only made the pleasure more intense. It took him no time at all to have you falling apart on his lips, his tongue lapping up your juices as you came.

Your body jerked beneath him as he continued to suck on your clit, even after you'd come down from your high. Your whimpers of "too sensitive" fell on deaf ears, but they quickly turned to moans of pleasure as your second orgasm began to near.

After you came a second time, Henry finally relented, head lifting from beneath your thighs to kiss your skin as he moved up your body. He kissed your lips, allowing you another taste of your release, and you moaned desperately.

"Baby, please," you whimpered. "Please let me touch you."

Henry had actually been considering releasing you up until that moment. "Sorry, sweets...but you didn't call me by my title, so you're gonna have to wait a while longer."

"Nonononononono please, sir. I'm sorry, please. Please just untie me, sir, please."

The desperation in your voice made him pause for a moment, his dominant demeanor breaking for a second. "What's your color, my love?"

"Green," you responded instantly.

He grinned and kissed you softly. "Good girl." He sat back up, admiring your body as it writhed beneath him, begging to be touched. "Now...where was I?"

"About to let me go?" you tried.

He chuckled. "Nice try, baby." You felt him shift so he was back between your legs. "I think I remember now."

You felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance and you gasped at the feeling. Even after years of fucking him, his cock still stretched you to an almost painful level, but there was no better feeling in the world.

"Please," you whispered.

Henry wanted to keep teasing you, to deny you some more, but he was finding it more and more difficult by the second. He needed to fuck you and he needed it now.

Normally, he would give you a moment to stretch out, take his time, go slowly, but tonight he was simply too far gone. He couldn't wait.

His cock slammed into your pussy in one quick thrust, eliciting a sharp gasping moan from your throat. He instantly set a brutal pace, hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew there would be bruises tomorrow.

"Fuck, baby girl, feels so good. You're so fucking tiny," he groaned.

You were too far gone to formulate any coherent words, moans all you managed in response.

"Tight little pussy squeezing me so well," he mumbled. "Makes me wanna stay here forever."

His cock was hitting all the right spots, making the pressure build in your abdomen. He could feel how close you were, so his pace never relented. "I know you're close, baby girl."

You hummed in response, silently begging him to never stop.

He thought about it for a moment, but decided against making you wait. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but he wanted at least two more orgasms from you before he came. "Come for me, baby," he whispered.

His command shattered you, orgasm pulsating through your body with such force that you screamed his name.

He had to slow down his thrusts as you came, pussy clenching him so hard he almost lost control. "Shit, baby. You gotta stop doing that or I'm gonna come."

Your body shook with aftershocks as Henry gently rubbed your aching muscles. "Sir, please," you whimpered.

"What is it, darling?"

"Let me touch you," you practically sobbed.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. You've been so good." Henry moved to uncuff you, quickly releasing your hands from their hold.

You grabbed at him immediately, wanting to feel his skin against yours. "Can I see you?" you asked softly.

He smiled and slowly removed your blindfold. "Hey beautiful," he whispered.

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes fluttered open, landing on his incredibly handsome face. His curls were wild, his chest shone with sweat, and his cock was still inside of you...it was easily the sexiest image you'd ever seen.

He grinned, noticing your expression. "See something you like?"

"Mhmm...You're pretty cute," you teased.

He chuckled warmly, preening under your appreciative gaze. He shifted slightly, causing you to gasp as his cock moved inside of you. His eyes darkened and his hands slid up your body, tracing the curves he found along the way. "I'm not quite finished with you, my love."

Your eyes widened. You knew he hadn't come yet, but you figured he would let you off the hook, having come several times already yourself.

He saw your slightly panicked expression and grinned wolfishly. "Just one more, baby. You can do that for me."

"I'm not sure--"

He cut you off with a particularly strong thrust. "You were saying?"

"Don't stop," you gasped.

"That's what I thought," he said smugly, hips once again setting an intense pace.

Your legs were still tied to the end of the bed, which only heightened your experience...you couldn't get away from him if you tried, not that you wanted to. He was pounding into you with such force that you would have been slammed into the headboard if your legs weren't secured.

It didn't take long for you to be so far gone that all you could do was cling to his body, nails digging into his flesh. "Close," you mumbled.

Henry grinned. "I know baby girl. I can feel you squeezing me."

He reached between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with ease. He gently teased the sensitive nub as he continued to fuck you into the mattress.

Your moans shook the walls, mixing with his deep groans of pleasure. Through your haze, you could see that he was close. His eyebrows were weaved together in concentration, eyes focusing on a spot just above your head.

He'd been teasing you relentlessly since he got home, so you decided it was only fair to get back at him. "Look at me, baby," you whispered.

His eyes dropped to yours and you immediately clenched your pussy tightly.

"Fuck," he growled, body straining with the effort of staving off his orgasm. "What do you think you're doing, (Y/N)?"

You smiled. "Giving you a taste of your own medicine."

He raised a single eyebrow, eyes still glued to yours. Normally he would have corrected you, reminded you that you were his to command, but he secretly loved it when you took the reins.

You slid your own hand between your bodies, knocking his out of the way and taking over massaging your clit. "Keep your eyes on me handsome, and don't come until I tell you to."

His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded his agreement.

"Henry," you warned.

"Yes, ma'am. I won't come until you tell me to."

You smiled. "Good boy. Now, fuck me like you mean it."

Henry renewed his pace, quickly bringing your orgasm closer. You matched his pace against your clit, pussy clenching every few seconds to urge him on.

He was beginning to truly struggle, body so close to the edge he could barely breathe. His eyes closed as he thrust into you, but fluttered back open when he felt you grab his jaw.

"Eyes. On. Me," you said firmly.

The intensity of your gaze nearly pushed him over the edge, and he found himself begging you for permission to come. "Can't take much more, baby. Need to come. Please."

You enjoyed the neediness in his voice, and even though your own orgasm was impending, you decided to prolong his pain just a while longer. "Not yet, handsome. Be patient."

He groaned and his hand snaked up your chest, landing directly at the base of your neck. He might be letting you have some control, but he wanted you to know that you were still at his mercy.

He also knew exactly what that action would do to you, even without any pressure. You gasped in pleasure, the feeling of euphoria mere seconds away. "Come with me baby," you ordered, finally allowing yourself to orgasm.

Henry's hips stuttered as he came, filling you with his spend. He thrust a few more times as he emptied within you, voice hoarse and broken, a mixture of curses and your name falling from his lips.

When he was finally spent, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. You immediately wrapped your arms around his large frame, entangling your fingers in his curly hair.

The two of you laid like that for some time before he broke the comfortable silence. "I think we need to do cardio more often, I'm exhausted."

You laughed lightly. "You're exhausted? I came...three times? Or four? I can't remember."

He shifted, lifting his torso off you, angling his head to look at your pretty face. "It was four," he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head good-naturedly. "My apologies, sir. I shall endeavor to count next time."

His eyes lit up. "Oh that's a good idea, sweets. I should make you count them."

You groaned. "I regret opening my mouth."

"You love me," he teased.

"You know I do."

He kissed you sweetly before sitting up completely and dragging himself off the bed. "Not as much as I love you," he said softly.

He disappeared into the en suite, returning a few moments later with a warm, wet towel, which he used to clean you up. He took his time, admiring your body and all the love marks he'd made on your skin. He liked the idea of you walking around with the evidence of his adoration adorning your body.

Once you were clean, he laid down beside you, pulling you close to him. You laid your head on his chest and let out a sigh, "I love you, Hen."

He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you tightly. "I love you too, sweets."

“Just…Just do it; I can’t take it, I promise. Please, sir!” Each word you sobbed seemed to stumble into the next as you begged so quickly, wiping your tear-stained face on the muscled shoulder. The man beneath ran his fingers over your scalp to try and calm you, ignoring the fact that his cock was still pressed so deep inside of your cunt that he was knocking into your cervix with each breath, let alone thrust. Bucky was holding you tightly from where you lay draped over his muscular body, both of your chests rubbing against one another, and from this position, it meant that the Brunette gang member could look over your shoulder to the other man on the bed.

“Oh baby girl, you sound so pretty when you’re begging like that”, Steve mocked with an air of arrogance, loving that your reactions were becoming more pathetic. One of his big hands was wrapped around his cock, pleasuring himself as he squeezed your arse cheek with the other. He had the perfect view from where he knelt in the centre of the bed, with Bucky and you led out in front of him; even though your back was facing him, he could see where your face was turned to the side, see the tear tracks down your cheek.

He couldn’t blame you for having this reaction; this had been going on for hours, and you’d been so good for him, but sometimes he and Bucky wanted to play, push you to your limits. In doing so, you became increasingly more pathetic and submissive, whimpering and needy for more until either Steve or Bucky enough was enough.

“You’ve done so well for us, Doll”, Bucky praised with a smirk as he kissed the back of your head, which, in turn, earned an eye roll from Steve as he knew his best friend was just trying to give you all the compliments so you’d cling to him more. “How many times has she orgasmed for us now, Stevie? 5? 6?”

Steve couldn’t help himself as he spanked your arse cheek, watching the jiggle of the muscle and the way you initially cried and jolted at the action but then moaned and perked your arse up to receive another one. Bucky also groaned at the impact as your walls had clamped down around his cock so tight that he almost came. Steve chuckled under his breath at the glare from Bucky, who had been trying to edge himself for the last half an hour and knowing what Steve was like, he wanted to see just how good his will strength was.

“She’s came so many times that she’s made a mess over the bed, haven’t you, Baby? And yet, you still want more? I don’t think you can handle any more, especially both of us”. Steve licked his bottom lip as he eyed your pretty hole, even wondering himself if this was even possible; yes, he’d seen it on porn, but two cocks in one hole? “We’re so big anyway, Honey; there’s no way you’ll be able to take both me and Bucky.” Steve taunts and earns even more of a desperate cry, more tears streaking down your cheeks.

“Pl-Please, Sir! Just try; I can take you both; I know I can”. To try and prove some kind of a point that you were not done with the fucking, you pushed yourself up slightly on Bucky’s chest and began to ride his cock. However, you were exhausted, and your cunt was puffy and sensitive, so it was more of a gentle roll than a harsh ride.

“That’s it, feel so good on top of me, Sweetheart”, Bucky groans, both hands on your hips to try and guide you slightly, completely forgetting about the double penetration idea for the moment all thoughts turned to the steadily moving wet warmth that moved around his shaft.

Steve’s arm wrapped around your chest from behind so that his hand secured around your jaw, pulling you flush against him; his mouth dipped to the shell of your ear, teasing with his teeth and causing a gasp to escape your lips. “If it hurts, what are you going to do?” he asks, his voice full of authority that was usually just saved for when he was at work.

“I’ll say my safe word”, you immediately answer, clarity clearing in your mind as your movements slowed, knowing that this discussion was necessary.

“Good girl. Now if my cock doesn’t fit next to Bucky’s, you’ll continue to be good, aren’t you, and not complain. We’ll just continue playing like we have been, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir, I understand”, you say without any sort of whimper or stutter noted as your eyes finally blinked open. Bucky smiled warmly up at you, which caused your hole to clench at just how handsome he was, but before he could react, Steve was releasing his hold on your face and pressing against your shoulders until you were lying flat against Bucky again.

You stopped rolling your hips and waited patiently for the next steps, which were Steve’s fingers. He didn’t need to use lube just yet as the blonde leader gathered some of your fluid from where you and Bucky were connected onto his index and middle finger. Ever so gently, he ran his fingers around the rim of your hole, near your perineum, as this was the area presented to him and where he was hoping to slip his cock into eventually.

With Bucky still inside, Steve ended up teasing him and stroking the two of you. Adding extra pressure, Steve slipped his fingers into your hole, following Bucky’s length until he reached the first knuckle. You were snug around his fingers as he managed to push in a couple of centimetres further until nearly to the second knuckle.

Steve pressed his hand on your lower back as he observed you taking a deep breath to keep all the muscles between your legs relaxed, which made it easier for the man to continue to stretch you.

“That’s amazing, Baby, you’re taking my fingers so well. Look at that! Taking two of my fingers and Bucky’s cock, aren’t you our special girl”. Steve’s praises helped to keep you relaxed as you smiled and warmed at the words he was saying like he was stroking the happy part of your mind.

Bucky bit his lip at the sensation, which was difficult to explain. As Steve stretched your hole, it made everything feel tighter, and just as he pushed deeper, he also had the stimulation of Steve touching the sensitive part of the underside of his cock.

“Just going to stretch you a little bit first, then I’ll add another finger”, Steve explained as his eyes trained between your face and pussy. He moved both of his fingers in semi-circles, trying to see how far your walls were willing to stretch.

Holding back a groan, he could feel how much you were trying not to clench and knew if they did succeed with this, he would lose his mind. He just hoped he didn’t cum as soon as he penetrated, which was a similar thought that Bucky had.

Scissoring his fingers around Bucky’s cock, Steve shifted closer so that a third finger could be added alongside the other two. You desperately moaned in Bucky’s chest, fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving nail crevices in his one fleshed shoulder.

Steve remained still for a few seconds, allowing you to adjust before moving in and out slowly. “Fuck Steve!” It wasn’t you who moaned but Bucky who had closed his eyes to try and concentrate on not cuming before the action had even begun. It felt so good to have his cock inside your puffy tight hole, but then to have fingers as well stroking along his shaft was unlike anything he’d experienced before.

Looking over your shoulder, you took a deep breath and tried to sound as confident as possible, the tears having now stopped as you remained calm. “Please, Steve, I can take it, just try”.

Steve ignored your pleas to hurry up and continued to stretch your pussy, twisting and spreading his fingers to give his cock extra space. Even though he was three fingers deep, he and Bucky were not exactly small in the cock division. This was why this fucking session had been going on for so long because they spent so much precious time making sure you were adequately stretched to take one of their cocks, let alone two at the same time.

There had been plenty of times where one of them had been fucking your cunt and the other in your arse but nothing to the extent of two cocks in one hole.

You sighed as Steve finally pulled his fingers out and reached for the lube, coating his cock thoroughly before wiping a generous blob onto your pussy. Moving his entire body closer, Steve began to prepare for the insertion.

“Remember: Safeword”, Steve said loudly enough that you glanced over your shoulder and nodded. “Take a deep breath for me, Baby”.

You did as instructed, filling your lungs to the brim with oxygen before slowly breathing out of your mouth, which is when you felt considerable pressure between your legs.

As Steve was so thoroughly lubed, his cock nearly slid in the wrong direction, so he had to push the tip of his cock hard against Bucky’s shaft and then knock his hips with a deep thrust. At first, he wasn’t sure he would get it into your pussy with how much resistance he was met with, but then it nudged beneath the rim and was welcomed into the dangerously tight warmth of your cunt.

You had expected it to hurt in some way, but to your happy surprise, all it initially felt like was the deep burn that came with stretching your cunt for a cock, just with increased intensity. It was an odd sensation to experience, like you were going to break at the first stretch, but as your body relaxed and more of his cock pushed in, everything was just thigh highest level of pleasure imaginable.

The screaming moan you released echoed around the bedroom as Steve’s cock penetrated until he, too, was caressing your cervix with the mushroom tip of his dick.

Bucky's hands were massaging over your arse, hips and back as he tried to keep himself under control. Having Steve’s cock moving against his but pressing hard with the limited room, the difference in textures between your gummy walls and the solidness of the shaft. The tightness was another experience, almost like a pretty vice trapping his cock to perfection.

“Holy shit, Baby! That’s it; stay nice and relaxed for us. I'm just going to let you get adjusted for a moment.” Seeing his and Bucky’s lengths fitting into one hole, Steve was mesmerised. He even contemplated reaching for his phone and taking a picture to show you the wondrous thing your body could achieve.

With your cunt stretched so far, Steve and Bucky were adamant that they could feel your pulse fluttering through your walls. Not only this, but you’d squirted over Bucky from just the stretch.

You knew that you were too squished between them both to take over right now and ride their cocks and also the exercise that your body was going through; you weren’t sure you even had the energy to push off of Bucky’s chest to find a good position.

Thankfully, Steve was more than prepared to fuck for the three of you. His two meaty hands joined Bucky’s over your hips as he ever so carefully began to rock his hips in the smallest of motions so that only an inch of his cock was moving in and out of your cunt.

As more of his length edged out before being pushed in, your entire body seemed to just give up with the tension running through it with the anticipation of the double penetration. Your limbs went slack, as well as your jaw, as your mouth opened in a perfect circle to allow the animalistic grunts and moans just to seep out.

“You sound so good when you moan like that”, Bucky gasped as he tried to fuck up with Steve, causing your body to jolt with the movements.

Soon, they were both fucking your pussy, Bucky, at a slow pace that allowed his cock to brush over all of the hyper-sensitive nerves of your g-spot and with the pressure of Steve’s cock pushing on him, you could feel every since ridge of Bucky. Steve, on the other hand, was able to fuck you with a bit more intensity, sweat beginning to drip down his temple, but he couldn’t give a shit about that right now, not when his girl was taking him so well. 

“I’m so proud of you, taking both of us so well; you feel so fucking good”. Steve’s voice sounded almost as desperate as your begging did earlier as his eyebrows knitted together with the pleasure taking over his body.

Bucky was watching Steve, feeling his length fucking against his, the tightness of your pussy, the moans you were all sharing; he knew his orgasm was impending. Steve could see this from how Bucky’s hands slackened, and the grunts stopped as he tried to concentrate on not orgasming.

To be truthful, Steve was also near his orgasm, and you’d been in a constant state of cumming since both cocks had slipped inside, the coil in your abdomen tight and fluttering with involuntary contractions around their cocks. Releasing the hold on your hip, Steve reached over to grab Bucky's jaw, forcing him to look up at his boyfriend and boss.

“Cum for me, Bucky, I know you want to. Let’s fill our girl up together, yeah? Make her drip with our cum, that’s it, fucking cum for me, Bucky”.

Steve tightened his hold on Bucky’s face and slammed into you with an increased pace that your eyes rolled back just in time for Bucky to cum, hard.

“Fuck! Holy-Shit-” Bucky cried out, his body withering beneath you like he wanted to arch his back but couldn’t be with you on top. You could feel the wetness and warmth of his seed as he spilt deep inside you.

“Good boy, look so pretty when you cum. Don’t you think so, Baby?” Steve asked you, but you weren’t paying attention, not when you were deeply lost in pleasure. Steve’s pace increased further as he fucked his way to orgasm a few seconds later. More cum filled your pussy, mixing with Bucky’s as it began to drip out of you. Steve’s head tilted back as he thrust through the orgasm until the shivers ceased, and he could take a minute to catch his breath.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve’s cock slipped out of your cunt first, swiftly followed by Bucky’s, meaning the blonde had the perfect view of your pulsing, gaping hole as it leaked with their seed, dripping out onto the sheets below.

Your obsession with your English professor was no secret to your friends. Elio, your long term best friend and dormmate, has had to interrupt you from your delusions on more than one occasion which was already one too many -- whether that be purposefully failing a paper to see him after class, wearing a skirt far too short and dropping a pencil in a calculated manner in front of him, or staring at him a little too intently during lectures -- it was becoming a problem.

In the professor's multiple classes of forty-some-odd students, there really were only a few that were delusional enough to believe they could sleep with their teacher. The difference between you and them was that you were patient with your actions and the effects it had on him.

Ultimately your patience paid off, as one Friday you received an ominous email with the heading titled 'Make-up Work' from a particular '[email protected].' In the details, he simply requested your presence at a disclosed location only ten minutes from campus on Sunday. It was not an office nor a dorm, but a house.

It wasn't long before his intentions were made clear when you arrived; his eyes dark with lust and a half buttoned shirt upon opening the door.

"(Y/N)," He welcomed, cocking his head and shutting the door behind you. "Lovely to see you."

"Pleasure's mine," You reply, never breaking eye contact. You slide your coat off and he takes it in his hands, hanging it up for you. You knew where the night was going to end -- inviting a student to talk not just outside of office hours, but in the professor's home, is not something usual.

"I thought we could discuss an appropriate way to help get your grade back up in my class," He begins. His eyes look down for a moment, observing your obviously risqué attire. "Do you have an idea as to what way that might be?"

He was going to make you say it. There was no way around it. Still, you decided to entertain his antics until it was made painfully and obviously clear he was trying to get you to say what you know he wants you to say.

"I think," You start, voice beginning to shake. The confidence you had starting this endeavor was suddenly challenged. "I think one-on-one time is certainly needed." You press your lips together in a line.

He hums, taking an agonizing step closer. He looks down into your eyes, furrowing his brows and letting out a soft laugh. "I'm not dumb, (Y/N)," he retorts. "I know you're a smart girl. You're excellent, actually -- some of the best writing from all of my classes combined." The professor stops, taking a step back to his original position. "So why are you really here?"

A moment of silence.

"You know why," You sheepishly croak out.

"Flatter me by saying it, then." He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting for you to speak.

"I want you to fuck me."

With the words already said, there was no going back. Your chest sunk, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up and beginning to eat away at your skin. All of those feelings were put to rest the second your professor spoke: "Was that so hard to ask, love?"

Professor Hiddleston turned on his heel, two fingers signaling you to follow him like a lost puppy. He led you down a long hallway in painful silence, finally twisting the knob to a door that revealed his bedroom. It was sleek and clean, covered in shades of black and gray with no mess dared to be left out.

He shut the door behind you and immediately began unbuttoning his shirt, holding your gaze with his light eyes. "Quickly," He commented. "I don't like waiting."

Your face flushed, embarrassed at his demand. You looked away and lifted the hem of your shirt-

"You will look at me," He orders, finishing the last button. "With how bold you are in my classroom I would've thought you'd take more control," He pokes, smirking. "Who would've thought you're just a shy little girl desperate for attention from her professor?"

Your thighs squeezed together, you're sure it doesn't go unnoticed as he grins the moment it occurs. You lift your top off as he watches, simultaneously beginning to unbuckle his belt. The sound makes you shiver.

"Good girl," He praises. You shiver in response.

As he tosses his belt to the side, you begin sliding your skirt off, letting it fall to the ground and pool at your feet. Your professor mimics with his slacks, walking closer and caressing your cheek. "Bed."

You obey, laying down on his duvet as he crawls up your body, sending shivers down your spine. "Professor-"

"Tom," He corrects. "No need for formalities at this point, yes?"

You blush before continuing. "Tom, are you sure?"

"I've been sure since the first time you tried to tease me in class," He replies. "I don't think you understand that I think about you every fucking night in my bed, about the things I would do if I were just able to have you."

You smile, your confidence returning almost instantly. "You have me, sir."

Tom grunts in the back of his throat, his body towering over you as he tears your underwear off, the cracking of the seams startling you. Immediately his hands find your sex, running his hands over it and around your thighs. His hands diligently run under your back, you arch, giving him easier access to remove your bra.

"God, you're stunning," He whispers before connecting his lips to yours. He pulls on your face, his teeth making contact with your lips and bruising their pink color in moments. As he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your mouths and you squirm beneath him.

Tom sits up and begins removing his boxers. The tent in them is noticeable -- and horrifying. You can tell he's big even without seeing it.

Not like you've thought about it before, though.

Now completely undressed, he puts his hands under your waist and drags you forward with a grunt. His hands dig at the fat of your hips and travel along your plush thighs, a moan escaping your lips as his fingers dance on your skin.

"Does my little girl need her professor's cock?" Tom provokes, sliding his shaft between your folds -- up and down, up and down, up and down.

You whine, nodding eagerly in hopes to get him to just put it in already, but your meek noise wasn't good enough for him. "Use your big girl words, darling." He puts his thumb and pointer finger against your chin, urging you to look at him him; eyes burning through your skull.

"Daddy," You spit out too quick, back arching. "Please, need you inside of me so bad!" The sheer volume of your pleas and the new title takes Tom aback, yet his cock ached with every sultry word you spoke.

"Good girl," He praises, grinning at you beneath him. You watch as he inserts himself, pressing just the head into your heat. You let out a guttural moan, eyebrows furrowing in a lovely mix of pain and pleasure. He begins slowly easing himself into you further, inch by agonizing inch, until he completely bottoms out; releasing a groan as his head lolls back. "God, you feel so good princess," He praises, "Taking me so so well, yeah?"

His words struck a chord within you, forcing a smile on your face. You whimper, brain not being able to form a complete thought at how deep he was inside you and how just damn good it felt. He was much bigger than anyone you'd taken before by a longshot. Your walls clenched around him and he laughed, cock twitching inside of you. He slowly slides back, leaving just the head in, and then pushes forward quickly, earning a loud, needy, moan from your lips. "Look at you, so drunk on me, hm?" He says, pulling back and then ramming himself deep into you, bruising your cervix. "Tell me what you want, doll. What is it you need from daddy?" He teases, never averting his eyes from your gaze.

"Please," You whine, "Need you to to move, need daddy to make me come!" And without hesitation, he picks up the pace, rapidly fucking you while his hands grip the headboard. You can hear it hitting the wall, and suddenly you're glad he has a house instead of an apartment. The noises you're making are obscene, something any practiced Catholic would need to cross themselves after hearing. "Feels so good daddy!" You spit, earning a groan from him.

Tom turned almost animalistic during sex; his grunts sounding more and more like growls as he fucks you brainless. "Fuck!" He moans, taking a hand off of the wood above you. He quickly puts his free hand on your throat, squeezing and forcing your eyes to meet his once again. "Like being choked by daddy, yeah? Like daddy to make you feel powerless, hm?" He smirks, observing the visual pleasure and shock on your face.

You're so close, you can feel yourself on the verge of your orgasm, and his dirty talk was pushing you even closer. The hand on your throat squeezed, and you clenched down on him, causing Tom to curse under his breath. "Want your cum daddy," You squeak out, "Pleasepleaseplease!" You mumble in strands of pleasure.

"Feel so good," He praises. "Come for me, be a good girl and come for daddy, yeah?" He was fucking you hard, and fast, and he still managed to pick up the pace. His skin slapped against your skin, filling the room with hard smacks and grunts and moans; endless strings of 'daddy' and 'good girl' running from both of your lips.

"Want you inside me daddy," You choke out. Your head lolls to the side and bounces against the pillow, a lazy smile forming on your face. "P-please!" You whine.

That pushed Tom over the edge. He was too far lost in himself, leaning down and growling into your ear. "Ask and you shall receive," he teases.

As if on cue, you both come together, the wave of pleasure rushing over you both. You could feel his warmth filling you up, leaking down your heat and spilling onto his bed. "Fuck, Y/n!" He grunts, "Took me so so well little girl."

You couldn't think, let alone speak. Tom stayed inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, not wanting the feeling of your sweet sex to leave him. He took his hand off of your throat and stroked the site, soothing the redness with a sultry kiss. You hummed in response, letting your body fall limp. After a few moments, he pulled out.

About three things Tom was absolutely certain: One, he should’ve never become romantically entangled with one of his students. Two, engaging in this behavior put his entire career in jeopardy due to it being wildly illegal. Three, he was, without a doubt in his mind, unconditionally in love with everything about you.

As you laid on his chest, foreheads drenched in sweat and bodies stuck together, you felt more at home than you'd like to admit. One hand messaged your back, drawing figure-eights on your skin, and the other pet your hair, occasionally drawing his lips close to kiss the top of your head. You burrowed your head into him, clinging onto his body. He grinned.

"I should've never let it go this far," Tom said, his voice raspy and deep with post-sex clarity, "but I'm afraid I'm in too deep to give it up now." He let out a low laugh, your head bouncing with his chest.

You smiled. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to return to normal after this," You commented, "and, well, not to be dramatic but having sex with your professor twice your age does things to you." Tom chuckled, looking down at you and tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

"This is all so wrong," He mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows and pressing his lips together, "And yet I wouldn't have it any other way." He pressed a kiss to your lips, the kind of kiss that left a permanent stain of love and lust on your mouth. It was deep, meaningful, and romantic. Tom stared at you, taking in your features and basking in each and every one. "You are breathtaking, darling."

You hid your face in his neck, attempting to suppress the toothy grin you'd almost shown him, however he pulls your head up with his pointer finger and thumb, admiring your rosy cheeks. "Poor baby, so sensitive to my compliments," He jests, letting out a low hum.

You roll your eyes at him. "It's not my fault that daddy somehow knows all of the words that light a fire in me," You emphasize on the word 'daddy,' which forces what sounded like a groan from the back of his throat. "I don't want to go," You admit, falling back into his embrace.

"I know love," He says calmly, stroking your hair and pulling you into him tight. "We can stay like this as long as you'd like, but eventually I'll have to bring you back."

You hum into just chest. "Just a little bit longer," you say to Tom. "I'm still recovering."

⟡

When you arrived back at your dorm, much later than you anticipated, Elio looked at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. "Back so soon?"

"Shut up," You laughed, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking off your shoes. You wobbled into the dorm, legs still sore and threatening your balance. Clearly Elio had noticed this, as the first thing he said after greeting you was "Well aren't your movements suspicious," and your cheeks flushed red. "I do not need to explain my late night endeavors and my later night actions," You began, "But,"

"But..?" Elio lead, leaning forward in his seat.

"But." You ended, pressing your lips together with a hidden grin and nodding your head.

"No!" He gasped, smiling widely and clasping his hands, putting his chin on the top of his fingers. "Please tell me everything! Not that I need to know the gory details of your sex life but, like, was he..?" Elio put his hands in front of him, fingers forward, and spread his arms apart.

"Shut up!" You giggled, swatting his hands. "But yes. Yes he was. Very."

"I knew it." He said, shaking his head. "I knew he was packing."

"Not to ruin our gossip but I need to lay down with a heating pad or something because standing is hurting my body," You laughed. "I think that man busted my cervix."

"Okay, TMI," He said, rolling his eyes. "But honestly go get some rest, lord knows you need it for seeing him tomorrow."

You were confused at first, then realized that tomorrow you had Tom for English, and you had absolutely no idea how you were supposed to face him when the night before he had you moaning 'daddy' and railed you into oblivion. But that was an issue you could deal with tomorrow. Probably. Hopefully.

ⓒ THEFAEFICTION, 2023. DO NOT TRANSLATE, REPUBLISH, OR CROSS-POST WITHOUT EXPLICIT CONSENT.

“A passionate encounter, one that has never been replicated since. That is what I want you to write about.”

He rolls the sleeves of his cardigan up to his elbows. The few students scattered throughout the small auditorium. He knows they’re not listening, but he continues nonetheless. 

“It can be with a spouse, a stranger, anything really. I’m giving you the freedom to express a feeling only you have felt so incomparable to anyone else.”

The electronic bell he’s grown to despise rattles. His students billow out into the side door, to their next seminar. He plops into the wheely chair with a long elongated sigh. He hopes it came across well, the prompt of their final. A feeling twists in his gut, not even half listening to him. He wants to help them prosper. He’s a lenient professor, one of the most laid back on the board. But there’s only so much he can brush past. Late work that’s a month overdue, students pleading for him to turn an F into a B- is exhausting. He takes his glasses off, hanging his head into his palms. He’s trying desperately to wipe away the misery that's clinging to his features. The soft sounds of shoes patting the ground. The loud chit-chat of the pupils communicating through the corridor. He fails to hear you sneak up on him. 

“Professor?”

His head whips upwards to the chirp of your elegant voice. Your hands tied around your school bag. A gentle smile creasing your cheeks. Hair flowing like a drape of a veil. Easy going on his aging eyes. His brain inputs into hyper drive, admiring you. You’re the only student who cares about their work. Who asked questions, who listened intently to the subject he taught. He’s taken a kindness to you that he has given no one else. Rounding up those fives into one hundred.

Giving you that plus you didn’t need, but makes your transcript look more polished. You never spoke to him about subjects outside of education. But you always came to him to broaden your knowledge to keep your work proficient. You’re smart and charming. Pulchritudinous even. (A word that he came across in your work that means beautiful.) He feels immense guilt. Pushing his blurred gaze to the side of his desk. More suitable for the atmosphere. He shouldn’t think of you in such a way. He can’t help it now matter how hard he tries. 

“Yes? What is it?”

His voice is short and snappy. Cutting the rope that he’s tethered to. He punches himself for how your smile drops to a vacant expression. 

“I was wondering how uhm,”

You pause. Brows knitted on your smooth forehead. You look for the words that aren’t immature in the phrasing. 

“How much vulgar use you would allow.”

There's that sheepish smile again. He chokes on his saliva, blind eyes widening. The long curve of his nose is where he pushes his glasses back. He sees your unmasked beauty, and he’s sputtering. An unknown speech impediment develops as he racks his dumbfound skull for an answer. He loses the suaveness of a preceptor and the eager man he truly is comes to play. 

“I-, as long as it’s a salient contribution to the plot. As much as you’re comfortable with, I suppose.”

He applauds himself for coming off the slightest bit as composed. What do you mean by vulgar? Maybe you wanted to include paraphernalia or explicit language. But what if- you wouldn't, you are too put together to even indulge. But what if? You nod swiftly. Brightness swims in your eyes. 

“Thank you, pedagogue.”

Your idyllic body pivots walking through the big twin doors. He lets out a heavy heave exit his lungs, one that he didn’t realize he was holding. He leans down, pressing his febrile forehead onto his desk. He’s stupefied by the title. Pedagogue, really? He praised himself for being benevolent and you thought that he was austere? A new, fresh hoard of scholars enter his domain. He groans, wanting to bash his cranium into the wood. He doesn’t know how to feel. But the only thing he can think about while teaching his course is feeding you grapes in a lavish room in Israel. 

~~~

A week and a half later, Jonathan is sprawled out on his couch. A wine glass in hand, shitty cable on demand playing some nonsense. A pair of grey joggers low on his hips, a dark earthy tone sweater on shoulders. All wrapped together with a thin white chain with the Star of David draped on his sternum. He doesn’t really know why he wears it anymore. He doesn’t feel like he treasures his faith, cast from the religion. He doesn’t hold the practice to his heart. Especially not after the occurrences with Mira. The exact reason he sits alone in this big empty house.

Longing for Daughter’s presence. A distant glow of his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, pleading for him to do something, anything. His heart torn from the absent wishes of wanting his life to be different. Filled with artificial happiness. Loneliness puts him in a corner with no escape. He’s grown accustomed to the feeling, throughout his failed marriage, he knows it all too well. Ridden by the pain of it, something unfamiliar takes its place. Something stronger than isolation. Desolation. He’s felt like this for so long that he’d forgotten that there are other emotions. Like jouissance, similar to having a penchant for something. To have it for you. He knows deep down that it’s wrong.

Fuck he knows, he does and it will kill him. Shouldn't think of his student in such a desirous manner. But he can’t stop. Ever since you walked yourself into his class, he hadn’t gotten you out of his head. Daydreams he's living in with you. Different past lives he could’ve had with you. Every waking moment you’ve plagued him. Every off hand hungry exchange with Mira, he imagines you. He can’t get away from you. A deep breath emits from him. He scratches his forehead, lost in the thought of you. His laptop pings with a buzz. It seems that the universe has answered his prayers. He straightens his posture, setting the glass on the table before pulling the computer on his lap.

He adjusts his glasses; the glow glares off the glass spheres. His house is pitch black other than the distant television and the radiance in front of his face. He sets it flat on his lap, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. He uses the track pad and finds his notifications. You. You’ve sent him something, your email in his inbox. A pdf. Your semester final. You work his schedule like clockwork. It wasn’t due for another week and yet you’ve already finished. He’s already gotten a few messages from other disciples needing the date pushed back, but you’ve completed it. His heart soars, resembling something along the lines of being proud? No, appreciative. He remembers the words you spoke to him the day he gave the prompt. Vulgar.

How lovely you looked that day, but in his opinion you always looked like that. Somehow you looked even better that day. Chipper and gleaming like a morning dew. The cursor hovers over the link. He clicks, opening the document. The black words on a white sheet were gifted to him. Your introduction and citations at the top corner. The title in the middle. Lover’s exchange. He scrolls to the first paragraph, with a heavy heart and high hopes he begins. 

Act I

It’s midnight when they meet. A dark sky with twinkling stars. A lamppost with a spotlight they run through. An older man and a younger woman trailing after him. It’s forbidden among the laws of society because of the taboo. The way they dance through the night to his house. The two disregard the dirty looks. They only existed with each other in their world. They lied to one another, saying that the energy shared is just an exchange. An exchange of passionate encounters.

The feel of his salt and peppered beard on her skin, the marks he gives her after the exchange. In the end, it’s what they both wanted- needed. His prolonged fingers tied around her wrist, tugging. She sees his house. White picket fence almost as much as her tuition. In a diverse neighborhood with economic growth. The older man modeled an image of what an established man should be. Bittersweet. Reminds her of a family of four with a dog. Stability isn’t what this was. Unbridled lust is all it was. They go against the formal casualties of dinner. They run up the stone onto his porch. He fumbles with his keys to unlock his door. He’s nervous, twitching with excitement. He inserts the key, then he’s tugging her again. Into his home. The smell of spring and hominy hits her.

He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it into the distant living room. Turning to throw keys into a bowel. He pivots, his glasses glimmer with the faint light of the dark night. Concealing his dark eyes from her. He smiles, big and toothy. Imperfect teeth rewarded her. He curls a finger under her chin. His other resting on her shoulder. He tilts his head to the side, slotting his lips into hers. Rhythmic and precise. Walking her up into a wall, hands slithering under the jacket and peeling it off. He moves his head back, the coat that dwarfs her in hand. Long feathered lashes fan across his crimson cheeks. He puffs. His hands leave to discard her jacket. Only for one of them to wrap around her wrist to pull. Long strides bound her up his stairs, to the landing. She’s amazed how he didn’t trip and fall face-first into one of the steps.

He’s running up them and she’s trying her hardest to keep up. He barely opens his door before he pushes her inside. There’s no time for delicacies. He’s pulling at a ravenous pace at her clothes, her the same. They scatter like leaves throughout his bedroom. It wasn’t the first time this has happened and sure to be the last. But the way he looks at her is like a groom looking at a bride. Dopey eyed and filled with emotion. His fingers run up her arms, the hair standing up as he goes. The skin is as soft as velvet. She reaches, fingers touching his temples before removing his specs. He hates himself for gazing at her breasts. Watching the flesh, crease and undulate. The color of her nipples easily begins to fight for his favorite. She leans up on her knees, the bed pulling inwards by his thigh. She kisses the space between his brows.

His heart picks up at a speed a horse would gallop, and he begins to question everything. Such a pure girl is with him to do unspeakable things. She’s his first after the split. So why is he starting to develop feelings if all of it is just raw fucking and emotionless? But what if it wasn’t, what if he wanted something a little dangerous? Something he can’t bring up at those shitty dinner parties Mira dragged him to. The conferences among the board asking his marital status, he can’t and he won’t. His dirty secret in the hands of a younger untouched girl. In all honesty how can he not get attached? He remembers reading something years ago. An article about how the chemicals match and sync with the counterparts.

How it’s simply science to get attached. He shakes his head, dark curls painted grey moving on his head. He rids himself of his thoughts. One night a month, he has to make it good. The moon shines through the big window in the middle of the room. He lays her down, peppering kisses on her neck. Finding the places he knows she likes. She was so easy to him, he knew her like the back of his hand. Yet, he always seems to find something that he never knew. There were never fights or grudges between the two. They fuck like they actually like each other. His large hands grope at her sides. Making her squirm in his grasp. His knees pinch at the bottom of her thighs. Her legs wrapped around his long waist. His semi hard erection laid in the crevice between her thigh and mound. Her hands tied in his curls. Twisting and pulling at the follicles. She didn’t have to tell him what felt good, he can tell by the pulls. His nose skims across her skin, tasting and lapping at the saltiness.

Worshipping each inch with the utmost delicacy. He kisses down her sternum. Purposely avoiding her peaks. Down her stomach and there. He parts her thighs, crawling down her body. Wedging his broad shoulders between her thighs. His beard burning caresses into the inside. His curls are a soft contrast. His plush lips press a kiss on the few scars he can find. His hands go to the sides of her hips, under her thighs. He wiggles on his chest to grow closer to her wet heat.

She’s glistening, poor thing. He flattens his tongue from where her entrance is to her clit. Over her slit, not entering her folds. Oh. So he’s going to be a tease tonight. She can’t complain from the whimpers he’s getting from her. The jut of her hips grinding on his face. The soft shake of her thighs on the sides of his face. His hands come back to her cunt. His thick thumbs, coming to either side of her lips. Pulling them apart. He’s enamored, watching her contract then dampen. His breath fans over the expanse and she’s shivering.

Her grip on his hair tightening. His tongue snakes out from behind his lips. His nose brushed along the hood of her clit. He pushes the tip of his tongue onto her bundle of nerves. Kitten licking the bud. It’s so meticulous and thought out for no error that she knows he's planned this for a while now. This encounter was planned to a t with no spontaneity. His tongue pulls back and she whines. But his mouth doesn’t move, he shakes his head to plunge his head into her. He sucks through his teeth, pulling her clit up. The sharp pain makes her yelp, her back arching off his mattress. His chin digging into the lower half of her cunt. The wiry hair of his beard tearing into her sensitive folds. The hair most definitely being soaked with her arousal.

Her stomach churns and hot pleasure pools into her lower back. Her knuckles turning white, she’s only half sure that she’s pulling clumps of curls from his scalp. It’s just so thick and full of hair that she doubts anyone will notice. She’s close, too close. Been waiting for this moment since the last time she had seen him. Those tight khakis and the fucking cardigan she knows that are hiding stretched muscles. Toes curling into his sheets. One of his hands leaves, shifting his body to accommodate. Two fingers enter her rigid hole. She’s moaning high in her throat. Jerking her hips up into his stupidly sculpted face. Trying to leave his face only results in him lapping more feverishly. He just moves with such elegance that she’s hurting. Just from his mouth.

She’s bruised from his teeth never leaving her clit alone. He curls those protracted fingers in her cunt and she’s seeing stars as he pumps them. Her legs are tightening around his head. The thickness, the stretch of it all has her crumbling. Spasming on the coarse hair of his face, he coaxes her through it. Even if his jaw is cramping she doesn’t know, he just continues to drink from her. Spreading her open to devour farther. His fingers leave only to be replaced with his mouth. His tongue intruding her hole. Plugging her up with the muscle. He stays there until it seems she has calmed and she’s not scalping him. He shifts to pull up on his knees. His hands leave soothing circles on her hips.

Her eyes are closed and she almost looks like she’s sleeping but her panting chest he knows she’s in the sky right now. Like an angel, his angel. He lifts her, flipping her on her stomach. He lowers on his stomach. Pushing her legs apart. His fully hardened cock pushed into the mattress. He spreads the globes of her ass. Listening to that keen gasp. His lips part and a string of drool falls on her puckered hole. When his saliva meets the ring, she clenches and he’s groaning. His face meets between her cheeks to lick at the flesh. His nose went into the divot. His beard scraped her. The smell of her heavenly.

The feeling of being suffocated by her has him thrusting into the plush mattress. She fists her hands into the pillow by her head. Enthralled by the foreign feeling of his tongue digging into the forbidden part of her. He moves his face down to lick at her slit to bring it up to the dry hole. His tongue moistions his lips. He huffs before delving in once more. One of his hands is coming to knead her cheek. His thumb slowly pushed into the hole carefully. Drool runs down her face. She’s too tired to even move. The intrusion has her thighs slicked. He feels his cock pulsing when he has her take the first knuckle. He doesn’t care if she cums again, he's just eating to devour. Eating from the purest of fruits. His sac tightens up. A couple of shallow thrusts and he’s done. The stickiness caught between the sheets and his paunchy stomach.

He moans, his mouth leaving her. During his onslaught he didn’t realize that his thumb was fully inside her. His palm pressed flushed to the curvature. He’s amazed at the sight. Saddened when he pulls the digit out of her. He lays on his back by her, on his side of his bed. Skin damp with sweat. Dark skin filled with precipitation. He knows that he just committed a crime. That if someone finds out he’d be in a penitentiary. That he couldn’t go back to whatever the fuck normal was in his life. He couldn’t go back into the comfortable life of not sleeping with his student. So he ponders the question as to why it feels so good if it was such an incriminating thing. He comes to the conclusion that being a saint only lasts so long. And he has to admit that this feeling of being a sinner provides so much more exuberance. 

Interlude I

Jonathan has to take a step away. He can feel his lungs closing in. He’s wheezing, his face buzzing under his glasses as he grows light-headed. Fuck. Why is his mouth so dry? He pushes his laptop to the cushion beside him. Lifting with the crack of gas between his bones. He walks into his kitchen, standing tall to grab a clear glass. He returns to his fridge, pushing the lip into the fridge’s mouth. The dispenser spews cold water. His chest heaves as he can’t breathe. Not now, please, not now.

His head hurts, his temples tingling. His vision waved in and out. He placed the glass on the island. Hastily pulling open drawers. Panic brews in his stomach. A stone dropping his heart to the ground. Fuck, where is it?! He curses himself for never leaving it in the same spot. His ego was too inflated to believe he needed to know where it was. That he didn’t need it to live. His hands blindly pulled junk out, throwing it onto the tile. In the very back of the sinks cabinet he finds it. He pulls the inhaler between his lips. Pushing the top down for ten seconds, inhaling. Keeping it in for fifteen, then exhaling. His frame deflates with the small thing in hand.

He smiles with sharp pearls up at his ceiling. Trying to push the feeling of a hysteric laugh boiling up his throat. Down to his belly. How fucking absurd this was! He almost went into an asthma attack because of some erotica. Reading erotica that you wrote. His eyes fall to the open drawer that pushes into the bone in his hip. He cranes his neck, finding the pack of cigarettes. Now it makes sense. The inhaler and smokes shoved into the back so an eager eye couldn’t easily find them. Even himself. He trades the inhaler for the pack. It hits the back with a thud. He flips the tab open, only finding two white sticks and his lighter shoved into the side. Thank fucking god. Taking one of the cigarettes between his fingers, he slots it onto the top of his ear.

His curls are trying to push it free, so he pushes it down. Throwing the pack that he’d go back to later on the marble. He’s so warm. Almost burning with sweat. His fingers tie around the bottom of his sweater. Lifting it over his head and tugging off the sleeves. He hisses at the cold air hitting his bare skin. His chain hitting his chest. He tosses his sweater onto the island. He takes the cigarette back behind his ear to his parted lips. Grabbing the lighter, he cups the flame; the embers alighting. He shoves the lighter in his pocket. Inhaling for ten seconds, holding it for fifteen, exhaling. The taste and the scent makes him wonder why he’d ever try to stop. Mira and his kid, but now that they’re both gone.

Leaves him with no excuses. He doesn’t have to half step out the door because of the pungent smell. Doesn’t have to hide his habits. His stomach contracts with each breath. His mind slowly easing into standby. He’s thinking about emailing you back. Asking how you came up with this explicit idea. Did you experience it first hand? Did you want to? He smiles, he thinks of himself as more than a willing candidate. He wanted to say that he absolutely seethed the fluids that you explained so beautifully. But he couldn’t. The way you painted the actions wasn’t humanly, it was mystical.

He’s impaired with his way of thinking. He’ll never think of such acts as he used to. The cigarette burns the pads of his fingers. He takes one last breath in before flicking it into the garbage disposal. The flame dies instantly. He sighs out a gust of smoke. Grabbing the glass of now lukewarm water and sitting on his couch. Almost groaning as he spreads out. The tv plays some superhero movie that he’s never seen. One of the Wolverine ones. He watches the claws swipe through what only he can presume is a villain. Taking a swig of the water his chest erupts into shivers. He places it by the wine. Rubbing his palm on his sweats, he attempts to regain his consciousness. With a deep sigh he grabs his computer by his thigh and reads. 

Act II

The call rings on his computer. A loud pinging noise with an incessant buzz fills the room of his study. He nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s going to get caught by her invitation. Soon he accepts. It’s in the middle of the night and Mira is up in his room, his Daughter fast asleep. She was a mess that one, not willing to sleep if he didn’t act out her stories. He was a knight in tonight’s redemption. His heart hurts. Fuck, he’s going to have to be careful. Since Mira came back from her trip, he has been paranoid. He honestly didn’t give a shit about her relations.

He was too invested in talking to his inamorata. Because of Mira’s arrival, he hadn’t gotten to in half a month. Missing their encounters. Yearning for them. It’s driving him insane, losing contact. She smiles up at him through the viewfinder. It’s pitch black and he can only make out her face. The light from her screen is the only one emitting luminosity. She’s under a surface. A blanket? He smiles. How perfect. Such a rellrounded girl hiding like a child. Although, he pouts solemnly, craving to see her beauty forthright. 

“You’re like Batman brooding in his cave.”

He stifles a laugh, biting his lip. Smiling wide he nods. 

“Maybe I am. You can’t debunk it.”

She smirks, eyes lighting up at the playful banter. He’s missed this, missed the poking at each other to receive a reaction. He’s always surrounded by chaos and fighting. Being around her, it seems that such things don’t exist. Their world is a utopia, and he’s happy if it’s only them who survive there. 

“Pretty sure that Batman isn’t a professor.”

He nods. She’s as quick as ever, keeping him on his toes. It’s a battle to make her not quirk a response. There’s always a reply. She’s just so responsive. He licks his lips, throwing in the bait to see her riposte. 

“Pretty sure that Batman’s cock isn’t as big as mine.”

Ah, yes. He brings out the grotesque themes of their relationship. The meaningless fucking that has blossomed into a desire to see her. Kiss her lips and cheeks. Cradle her head into his chest, wondering if she can hear his heart soar. He needs to remind himself that he can’t mingle with her. Be treated like he's twenty years younger. Maybe his response is ludicrous and she will be turned off from the bluntness. She’s so detached from it all that she doesn’t even blink an eye.

She barks out an electronic laugh before clamping a palm over her mouth, eyes wide. Now he wants to know why his cock is growing at the sight. A fetish he didn’t know he had, most likely. He wonders if her roommate is there. The idea has him hardening instantly. Trying to keep quiet for him, like he is for her. He sees her shift, leaning over the camera to retrieve some earbuds she’s used in his class. Her breasts were hidden under a baggy shirt. He can see the outline however and he’s filled with out righteous lust to find that she’s not wearing a bra. She sits back on her thighs, inputting the wire into her laptop. Two white wires lead into one connected source. 

“So dirty, old man.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Forearms broadening. His white tee hugging his muscles. The Star of David necklace wrapped around that thick neck. He quirks up a thick eyebrow on his forehead. Questioning her status. He takes quick notice of the way her eyes flick downwards on her screen. She’s never had a problem with his age before, and now she has something to say about it? He’s taken aback. He remembers her saying something that him being older was alluring. That she values the intellect he holds. He turns it onto her. 

“Should be worried about what this old man is going to do to you, little girl.”

He says, voice dipping an octave lower. His arms uncross and a hand goes to cup himself over his clothed cock. Teasing himself. His hair pushed back carelessly. Not in his pristine style. It’s nice seeing him in such a way. Laid back and careless. Only wanting to talk to the girl he’s interested in. She bets he smells so divine. Like honey and milk. Her thighs seared with ripples of pleasure forming. The domestic life he's letting her glimpse into. It’s been too long since she’s last had him. She hasn’t even looked in any other male presence since him. She needs him to let her release the pent up frustration. But she can’t, not without his help. 

“Such as?”

She pries. Sitting cross-legged on her twin bed. She moves the monitor up her body to her face. His mouth waters. One of her hands plays with the loose shirt she has on. She’s toying with him and he’s not stupid. He knows how the younger woman plays but he bites, anyway. 

“I had this dream about you.”

She tilts her head to the side, hands skimming flat up to her breasts. 

“Oh?”

She whispers and he wettens his lips. The hand that was cupping his length runs up his torso. Under the loose waistband of his sweats. Toying with the ribbon like ties. 

“Yeah, thinkin’ about it a lot, actually. We were in Israel,”

“Israel?”

She asks, shocked. Eyebrows rocketing across her forehead. His hand follows downwards to the expanse of his plush thigh. Close to where he needs, but sweeps the thumb by the side of his sac. He refrains himself from rolling his eyes in the back of his head. 

“Mhm. In Israel, in a mansion.”

“A mansion?”

She questioned again. And there’s that quick thinking he loved. Her lips perk into a smile as she rolls a bud in her fingers. A frown deepens on his face. His fingers scratched at the base of his cock. 

“Yes, now shut up so I can finish.”

He spits out sternly. Not an ounce of jest in his words. Her mouth closes immediately, hips bucking at the tone. Similar to the one he uses at work when a student did something wrong. Fuck, she should do something bad that would make him use it more. He cups his balls, and he’s stretching the elasticity of his joggers. The head of his cock pushing up at the side, begging to be let free. He doesn’t reprimand himself. 

“In Israel in a mansion. I and you, on the silk sheets of a bed. However, I was on my back and you were,”

His lips part as he pants. His hand wraps around the base, holding himself. His head leans back, and he sighs. He builds up suspension with his little groans. He knows that she’s hanging on every single breathy moan. On every word he’s ridding her of. 

“You were dripping on my lips.”

His hips thrust up into his hand. Her eyes widen and she pulls at her nipples. Breathing fastening to where she’s gasping for breath. Oh. Then a thought runs through her pretty head. What if he was sleeping next to his spouse. Dreaming of her while he rests. Shivers run up her spine. 

“I could smell and taste you, your thighs around my head. And pretty girl, fuck-“

As he starts to fist himself, finally jerking himself off at a rapid pace. He’s lost for words, utterly and completely. His thumb traces over his head and he’s almost crying. God, he misses her. Not just her cunt that’s too tight, but the smell of her. The softness and linen smell of her. The taste he can’t have. He lifts his hips up, pushing his sweats down his broad legs. Encompassing her a view, he knows she’ll be appreciative of. She always praises his cock. Always wants to have it in her, near her. He didn’t know if he corrupted her to be such a filthy girl or if she already was. He doesn’t know, but he mumbled praises about how good she looks. 

“I miss you.”

He moans heavily, almost where his scrupulous voice lives. One of her hands travels under her panties. Quickly rubbing short little circles on her clit. Her head hits her wall with a soft thunk. He wants to know why he wants to kiss it, to say that she’s okay. Treat her like a child. The muscles in his thighs draw up and he’s whining. 

“I miss you most. Making me stay in this hell.”

She gripes. He should’ve known she would say something like that. The college was below par, to say the least. The people were insane. People desecrate in the halls, let alone fornicate. She was close to finishing, about a semester off. So she shut her mouth and lived through it. He made it less horrible, worthwhile. But without him there, it hurts more so than she wished to admit. He was her saving grace, and he wasn’t here, so who was going to save her?

As much as she hid the yearning feeling, he knew and felt similar, if not intensified. If he could do it without being expelled from the system of education, he would take her away. Move out of this godforsaken place and start fresh, with her by his side. But the world wasn’t promising. His eyes soften from the cold black coffee to a warm, hot chocolate. Swimming in remorse behind the clouds of glass. His throat tightens up as he yanks languidly at himself. He feels like shit and it was hard to tiptoe around Mira. He wants better for the young girl in front of the screen. She deserves better than him. He swallows the boil down his throat. 

“I’m sorry. I really am, sweetheart. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

He sees the way her body grows stiff. The way she usually does when she is close to her orgasm. The calm before her thrashing chaos. His hips buck instantly at the sight. He can feel his cum rolling down his fingers, getting caught in the webs of his fingers. 

“Oh, yeah? How’re you going to do that, old man?”

He sighs, shaking his head. Hiding a smile. She tears him up through and through. Done to the bone. That sharp mouth of hers makes his skin crawl. Every time he lives in fear of her response. He thinks of his answer. How was he going to make it up to her? Before he knows it, he’s babbling. 

“Next weekend, the paperwork will be served. You can ngh-“

A specific tug has him on the verge of flying head first off into his peak. The fantasy of her in his house parading around in one of his sweaters that is no doubt too big for her has him rolling. He pants furiously, in need of his inhaler. 

“Y-you can stay with me until graduation.”

Time freezes as his voice gravels out those precious words. Her heart picks up and the world swirls around her. Such a funny thing, this occurrence. Her huddled under a blanket, laptop sat on a tiny bed that barely fit her. Earbuds tangled, and her voice was barely audible trying to keep quiet to not awaken her roommate. But she’s fingering herself, hand grabbing at her tit. Her shirt rose on her waist. And him. Hiding from his not so secret family. In his den, half curled over, biting his fist as he cums so hard it’s spurting onto his white tee. Her saving grace has offered her salvation. Out of this horrid place. For a limited time. She can’t think straight, but she’s jumping on the promise. 

“Deal.”

His heart grows too big for his chest. His tawny cheeks burned red. He only half thought she would agree. The haven he's going to reside in with her has his cock twitching. A few pearls leaving his tip. He watches her face turn into a masterpiece. Eyes closed, mouth open, fingers curling. Legs parted wide. He tugs off his shirt. Careful to not let his face touch the dampness on the surface. Brown skin with defined lining, tufts of dark hair across makes her cross-eyed. Legs spasming closed and a harsh bite onto her bottom lip to stifle the too obscene whimper. He wipes himself off with his once white shirt, tugging up his sweats. He smiles, a crooked grin. His index points at her half-lidded eyes. Her fingers pulling out as a pool forms under her hips. He pushes an eyebrow on his forehead. Pointing a finger at the screen. In his authoritative panty dropping voice he says. 

“Under one exception: you can’t call me old man unless it’s under adulation.”

Act III

The first night was torture. He didn’t even cum, just toyed with her body into the multiple she’s given him. She’s a rag doll at this point. Her body is limp to where she can’t even lift a finger without her pussy fluttering. After she physically could not give him anymore of the high. With eyes dumb and cunt sore, she laid there.

He kissed her forehead, whispered sweet words, and left. Leaving to grab a washcloth, made sure the water was warm, not hot. Pressed it between her thighs that had dark sores where his beard had been. Carefully swiping up and down to capture the essence of her. He threw it into the hamper beside his bed, opening a drawer to grab a fluffy blanket. The soft material made his palm tickle. He guided her to lift her hips up so she wouldn’t have to lay in a puddle. He didn’t have the heart to make her stand on wobbly legs. If she could stand. By the way, she’s wincing at his touch. He’s not so sure. She turns on her side, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Whining when he leaves but shortly falling asleep after. Her face to the side of the bed.

Mouth parted, eyebrows pinched as she dreams. He raises the duvet onto her scorching hot skin, tucking the hem under her chin. There’s nothing sexual about it but his heart bursts. He smiles to himself before walking into the bathroom. Shutting the door the quietest he possibly can. He opens the shower door, turning the faucet on. The pellets hit the tile with a heavy splatter. He takes his glasses off; the steam fogging them up, anyway. Putting them by the sink before stepping inside. He closes his eyes, basking in the warmth. The dampness on his skin exudes now being cleansed. He doesn’t know why he feels like it’s necessary, why he’s obligated to bathe after. He just feels the need to. He can’t have her lingering on him; it'll drive him crazy. Even the aftershocks he gets after eating her cunt stay in his beard for weeks after. It’s almost haunting him. Taunting him with her absence. But if he could, he would live between her thighs. The cloth in his hands starts to soak up the grime off his chest. The suds of his soap coats him, making him glimmer with bubbles.

After he’s imagined what he’d do if she was occupying the small rectangle with him, he turns the faucet off. Stopping to grab a towel, dabbing over the falling droplets. Running the fabric over his crevices. He wraps it around his long torso. One hand holds it in place, while the other grabs his glasses. He pushes his wet hair off his forehead, a few straggling curls stay sticken to his face. He looks fucked, to say the least. Streaks of red run down his chest, to his lower stomach. Just a few inches away from his cock. He knows it’s worse on his back. He can feel the welts as he moves. His beard glistens with the water that’s still captured there. He’s enamored by how lean he’s gotten. The muscles in his body are growing taut. He’s astonished since he hasn’t done anything out of his regimen. The only thing he has change was the amount he’s been fucking her. With his now ex spouse out of his house he can do whatever he pleases whenever he wants.

The only thing stopping him is himself, the salt in his hair isn’t just for the looks. His libido is high but his body can’t keep up with him. With one more quick glance he strides out of his bathroom. Seeing the soft inhale and heating her snore does something to him that’s inexplicable. That thing makes his cock harden. A tent forms in the towel and he rolls his eyes. Maybe his body was intact with his drive. His grip on the towel grows. The fucking things this girl makes him do will be the death of him. He walks to the side she’s sleeping on. Cherishing her beauty to mind. A strange idea comes to his head during this viewing. He slips his glasses off his face, precipitation stains the glass. He pauses, thinking momentarily before slotting them onto her face.

In his opinion the thin wired frame with the hazy specs suits her better. They’re awkward with how they’re perched since she’s asleep but he likes the look of it. She shifts and her mouth falls open wider. He’s a bad man, he tells himself as he drops the towel to the floor. His cock in hand, he works himself. His eyes blurry without his prescription, nonetheless he focuses on her face. He runs his thumb over the tip and he’s groaning. He leans forward slightly. Positioning himself over her lips. He rubs the ruddy head over them. Smearing his pre-cum on the bow. He bites his lips, brows furrowed as he pushes in. He’s only sitting in her mouth, unmoving. So much for that shower.

He ruts his hips so half of his length is laid out on her tongue. She’s asleep, he reminds himself. But with the way her lips are curling around him makes him think that he’s wrong. His hand remains wrapped around the hilt. Trying to restrain himself. He pushes small thrusts into her mouth, half in, half out. His other hand pushes her hair from her face. He loses himself and finally pushes his length fully into her mouth, and down the back of her throat. She gags around him and pulls back startled. But surely she’s awake by now. She’s sputtering around him and pulls his sloppy wet self out of her mouth. Her eyes blink dreamily up at him under his glasses, her eyes magnified. He smiles, only one of the sides of his mouth peaking up. 

“Mornin’ pretty girl.”

She looks at him, still disoriented. Her head whips to the window. Dark as ever. 

“It’s not?”

His head tilts downwards as a nod. Agreeing with her. 

“I know. Just go with it, yeah?”

She bows her head. Smiling up at him. He walks over to his side of the bed, laying down by her. He scoots until his chest is pressed against her back. She can feel how hard he is on her ass. His arms wrap around her waist, under her breasts. Hands flat and fingers spread. She pulls a hand up to his hair, scratching her nails lightly on his scalp. Her fingers damp from how saturated his curls are. She wonders if he’s making a wet spot on his bed, similar to hers. He nuzzles his face into her neck, his beard brushing her. He kisses along her shoulder, craning his neck. 

“I honestly don’t know how you can see.”

He snorts a laugh. He can’t really. Without them, he can barely make out distant shapes. 

“With practice makes perfect.”

She scoffs as one of his hands travels down her stomach. Playing with the short hair on her mound. 

“Do you honestly believe that?”

He thought about his answer for a moment. Before nodding into her shoulder. His fingers cupped her thigh to lift it over his hip. 

“Can I kiss you?”

He asks softly, almost a whisper. She grants him his wish. He lays flat on his back, pulling her to his chest. Her legs were on either side of his waist. Her face to his. Noses brushing. 

“Hi.”

She smiles widely. His hands cup the side of her face before kissing her. Long and slow. Full of insecure thoughts and emotions. He still hasn’t come to terms with how he feels about her, but all he knows is that he cares deeply about her well-being. And if he makes her happy, then he’s glad to be of use. He doesn’t want to say he loves her, because the word doesn’t match with how strongly he adores her. What he thought was love with Mira was the complete opposite of his flower. Every breath, every beat of his heart, belongs to her. He’s not a sap, but if it were to ever come to it, he’d die for her. His beard scratches against her face.

He simply lives for her. He feels her fingers in the wefts of his hair, massaging the thickness. He pouts everything he feels about her into the kiss. He hopes that she’ll understand, and the grinding of her hips. His work is being taught. As her tongue touches his, she can taste him. Marlboro cigarettes and coffee that he probably brews himself. The scent floods into her. Cinnamon and lavender, she wonders if that’s from his soap or his cologne. His hands flatten over her back, pushing her down to him. Her breasts are full against his chest. He’s kicked into a part of his brain that’s primal. Eyes locked on her nipples that barely peek out from beneath her. She pulls away, both parties huffing for air. The glasses slipping off her face. 

“How do you do anything with these?”

She pulls herself up on his chest to slide them up the bridge of her nose. He tilts his head to the side, admiring her. She’s just so alluring. The way she holds herself to the divots in her skin. He loves all of it. She lifts an eyebrow, confused. 

“What?”

She asks, and he shakes his head. Wet curls swaying. 

“Nothin’, you just look beguiling.”

She rolls her eyes, scrunching up her nose. She slaps his chest, laughing. He smiles.  

“You think I’m deceptive?”

He blinks cluelessly. Her face snapping into a pout. 

“That’s mean, ya know, calling someone a liar.”

His lips twitch up into a ghost of a smile. He tries to hide it but she’s so adorable when he gets under her skin. 

“Remind me to never compliment you.”

He mumbles, he pokes fun at her, and she groans. Exaggerating an eye roll. 

“Could've said gorgeous or something.” 

He shakes his head. In an instant, she’s on her back, and he’s hovering above her. His cock seated over her core. It quivers by the touch. She’s more stunned at how hard he is. It seems that he’s never soft. 

“Those don’t suit you, little cherub.”

His nose nudges into her jaw as he kisses her neck. Sucking the marks he wanted for the past half year so she can’t hide it. What spurs him on is the thought that when the questions arise as to how she got them. She can’t say the older professor who fucks her until she can’t walk. He wonders what her answer will be. He kisses down her neck. 

“I enjoy beguiling. Bewitching even.”

He kisses her collarbone, nipping. Before licking the skin. 

“Body and soul.”

He grins when she hits him on his shoulder. 

“What a fraud! Stealing from Austen.”

He sighs, laying his head between her breasts. He wraps his arms around her. She massages his back. His breath fanning on her chest. 

“I can’t win, can I?”

He sighs, kissing the side of her tit. 

“Afraid not, poet.”

He leans up, his forearms on either side of her head. She pulls her legs up and over his hips. 

“If I’m a poet, then you shall be my muse.”

She nods, agreeing.”

“So it shall.”

The end of her sentence turns into a breathy whine as he enters her. The ruddy head splitting her open. His length is halfway before he moves out, then pushes more. His face pushed into the side of her neck, continuing to mark her, then soothe her wounds. She’s crying, loud yelps and pleas for him to fuck her. To use her. He rolls his hips subtly, long languid strokes. Never pushing into that spot deep inside her. He doesn’t need to with the way she’s contracting around him. Her cunt gulped him up with the loudest squelch. The hair around the base of him scratches along her folds. 

“So noisy, neighbors are going to hear.”

She cries louder, and he smirks. Slotting himself fully into her, all the way down his shaft. His balls up against her ass, her legs crushing him. And then he moves. His hips lifting back, the only thing in her pussy the tip. He rams his hips back into her. Pushing her up the bed. She yelps, clawing at the bruises on his back. It was hot and electric, bounding the two. Emitting a currency shared. Pulling and taking. He lifts himself on his hands, flat by her head. Pulling his knees under her thighs. He pulls her ankle to his shoulder. Holding it between his shoulder and neck.

His hair hides his eyes, but she’s sure that they’re wild with lust. His hand wraps around the bones in her ankle. He thrusts deeper and shallow into her. He can feel her walls convulse around him, signaling that she’s close. The cacophony of the clap and shared moans has him nearing, too. His mouth was hot and soaking on her ankle. When she cums, her already abused cunt pushes his cock out. He stills, sitting back on his calves, waiting for a reaction. He lets her leg fall. He watches her cum pour onto the blanket and between her thighs. She pushes a hand to his abdomen, telling him to wait. Her pussy fluttered. 

“You want me to stop?”

He asks, running the crown of his cock over her folds. 

“No.”

She whimpers, and he growls. His glasses on her face a-skewed. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?”

“For you to cum.”

He pistons his hips into her in one fluid thrust. Buried himself in and out of her rapidly. He bends her leg to her chest. He kisses her as he floods her pussy. His lips leave as he pants for air. He mouths at her jaw, his eyes closed. He fixes the position of his glasses on her nose. Letting your leg to fall to his side. He doesn’t pull out; he lets the fluids sit in her. Marinating in her womb. He lays his feverish forehead on hers. Breathing her in, basking in the feeling of her. Afraid that if he moves, he won’t have her anymore. So he stays, cock inside her. Body collapsed like a weighted blanket on her. She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. As he kisses the bruises on her neck. He knows he is a sick man, hoping that her reproductive system takes. 

Interlude II

Jonathan takes his glasses from his eyes. Staring blankly at the last sentence. Trying to wrap his head around. What exactly did he just fucking read? There’s an italic at the end at the bottom. His stomach churns and twists disturbingly. There’s no way you didn’t write this about him. Most of it was unnervingly accurate, things he hadn’t told a single soul about. But you did. You knew everything. Was he really that easy to read? Before he can even recoup, his fingers are typing in a three digits of one hundred. In the suggestions, he writes:

“Meet me at the coffee place on Broadway at ten am. I’d like to discuss your afflatus.”

And with that, he shuts the brim of his computer. His head tilted to the ceiling. Dreaming of what he was going to talk to you about in the morning.