#FORBIDDEN LOVE

[lectiophileee]

✨️ I Breath You Endlessly ✨️

[jazzy96scorpio]

Teacher's pet

Chapter 1 My teacher is a DILF

Description: This is a story about a girl [You] who's super into her hot, older history teacher. You got a whole notebook full of fantasies about him. Things get steamy between you two and even though it's kinda taboo, you fall hard for each other. It's a rollercoaster of secret hookups, jealous moments, and eventually, you end up together. It's a bit naughty, a bit sweet, and definitely a story about going after what you want, even if it's a little scandalous.

Pairing: You / Mr Ben Miller Teacher

Warnings ⚠️: adult content, dirty talk, phone sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), first time sex, reader is virgin, fluff, age gap (legally 😉), unprotected sex, teacher kink, SMUT.

Word count: 7,200

The early morning light is breaking into your bedroom. Your mom's voice, a forceful crackle in the otherwise peaceful silence, startled you awake.

"Get up! You're going to be late for school!"

You mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "I'm awake," hoping it would be enough to appease her. But the warmth of your pillow and the lingering scent of sleep were too inviting. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you drifted back into the sleep.

You knew you should get up. You knew you'd be in trouble if you were late. But the allure of sleep was simply too strong.

You jolted awake, the sound of your mom's voice still echoing faintly in your ears. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. "Shit!" you exclaimed, scrambling out of bed.

Panic surged through you. You were already late! You threw on the first clothes you could find, brushing your teeth, and quickly combed your hair. Grabbing your backpack, you rushed out the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

You hopped on your bike, the cool morning air whipping through your hair. You pedaled furiously, the school looming closer with every desperate stroke. Your phone rang, and you saw it was your best friend, Sarah.

"Where are you, girl?" Sarah's voice, laced with a hint of panic, crackled through the receiver. "Class is about to start! Hurry up!"

"I'm on my way, I'm on my way!" you gasped, your voice breathless. "I overslept!"

You hung up the phone and pushed harder on the pedals, your legs burning. You could almost see the school gates now, a beacon of relief and dread. You were late, but you were going to make it.

You skidded to a stop in front of the school entrance, seeing Pedro, school janitor. He was busy fixing a wobbly leg on one of the benches, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"You're late again, miss," he chuckled, his voice gruff but friendly. "You're losing the bet."

You grinned, still catching your breath.

"Okay, Pedro, you win again."

You were almost at the door, your heart still racing from the sprint. As you glanced at Pedro, a figure emerged from the shadows. BAM! You collided with him, the impact sending a jolt through your entire body.

He caught you, his arms instinctively wrapping around you to prevent a nasty fall. You stumbled, dropping your phone with a clatter. He dropped his suitcase with a thud.

"Whoa there," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Where are you rushing off to?"

You looked up, your breath catching in your throat. Standing before you was a man who looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine. Handsome, with a touch of gray at his temples, he exuded an effortless charisma that left you speechless.

Your mind, however, was anything but.

"OMG," you thought, "DILF, DILF, DILF!"

Oh dear. He was still holding you. You quickly realized the absurdity of your inner monologue and blushed furiously, trying to pull yourself from his surprisingly strong grip.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, sir!" you exclaimed, your face burning. "I'm late for class."

You quickly bent down and picked up his suitcase, then scrambled to retrieve your phone. As you handed him the suitcase, your fingers brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You swore you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

"Apology accepted," he said, his voice a low chuckle. He gestured towards the doorway with his left hand, a silent invitation for you to enter first. "Ladies first" he says.

"Fuck," you thought, He's a gentleman too.

Your face felt like it was on fire. You mumbled another apology and slipped past him, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You glanced back at him, and he was watching you with an amused glint in his eyes.

You burst into the classroom, sliding into the seat next to Sarah.

"You made it on time!" she exclaimed, noticing your flushed cheeks and the way you were trembling slightly. "What happened out there? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "OMG, girl, I just ran into a DILF!" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"And shit, he was holding me!"

Sarah burst out laughing. "Lucky you!" she giggled. "He must have been quite the sight."

Then she leaned closer. "We got news girl," she said, "They say we have a new history teacher today. Old Mr. Downey is sick. He retired."

"Thank God," you muttered, shuddering at the memory of Mr. Downey's peculiar odor. "That man smelled like a combination of old gym socks and pickled onions."

Sarah laughed again. "Well, let's hope the new teacher is an improvement. Maybe he'll be young and handsome."

You couldn't help but think of the man you'd just collided with. "Maybe," you murmured, a mischievous glint entering your eyes.

"Maybe he'll be even better than young and handsome."

And just as you were thinking that, the classroom door swung open, revealing the new history teacher.

To your surprise, it was him.

The man you'd collided with.

The man who had sent your heart racing and your mind reeling.

The man who, you now realized, was far more than just a "DILF."

He was breathtaking.

And he was your new history teacher.

😲 💓

Your heart plummeted to your stomach. "Shit," you whispered, "I'm fucked up."

Mr. Ben Miller entered the classroom, his gaze sweeping across the room as he placed his briefcase on the teacher's desk. He introduced himself with a calm and confident voice, his gaze lingering on you for a fraction of a second longer than on the others. You ducked behind Sarah, hoping he hadn't noticed you.

"Let's open our textbooks," he said, his voice a soothing baritone. "We'll continue with the lecture from where Mr. Downey left off. I'll be calling on each of you to introduce yourselves."

Your stomach did a flip-flop. He was going to call on you. You were going to have to speak to him, look him in the eyes, after that… that… accident.

The introductions went by in a blur. You watched with a mixture of dread and fascination as your classmates introduced themselves, some shy, some confident, some downright bizarre. And then, it was your turn.

"And finally," Mr. Miller said, his gaze sweeping across the room until it landed on you. "Miss…?"

You stood up, your legs trembling. "Miss… uh…" You couldn't seem to find your voice.

"Miss…?" Mr. Miller prompted gently, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Miss… [Y/N]," you finally managed to squeak out, your voice barely audible.

"Oh, hello Miss Late to the Class," Mr. Miller said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

"Shit… shit…" you thought.

"Nice name," he continued, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I hope you won't be late to my classes again, Miss [Y/N]."

You mumbled a quick "I won't, sir," and quickly sat down, feeling utterly humiliated.

As you sat down, Sarah nudged you with her elbow. "Gurrrrl," she whispered, her eyes wide with amusement, "You bumped into Mr. Miller! You are SO fucked up this year."

You groaned. "I know," you muttered, "He's going to hate me."

But then, a mischievous glint entered your eyes. "At least I'll enjoy the view," you whispered, a sly grin spreading across your face.

Sarah burst out laughing. "You are so weird," she giggled. "I don't know why you like older men."

You shrugged, a dreamy expression on your face. "Darling, look at those arms," you sighed dramatically. "Those big hands…FUCK, his neck and jaw… OMG, what he would do with those lips… that gray beard…" You trailed off, realizing you might have gotten a little carried away. "Okay, okay, I'll stop," you mumbled, blushing furiously. "I'm crazy, I know."

Sarah continued to giggle, shaking her head. "You are something else," she said, but a mischievous glint entered her own eyes. "I wonder if he'll notice you too."

You felt a blush creep up your neck. "Don't even," you muttered, though a small part of you secretly hoped that maybe, just maybe, he would.

As class ended, you rushed out of the classroom, escaping Mr. Miller's lingering gaze. You were a little flustered, but also oddly excited. You had never felt such a strong attraction to anyone before.

Outside, you found Sarah waiting for you. "Ready to go?" she asked, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Actually," you said, a blush creeping up your cheeks, "I was wondering if you'd like to come to my place."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Pizza?"

"Of course," you replied, a smile spreading across your face. "Pizza and a movie. Just the two of us."

Sarah hesitated for a moment, then a mischievous grin spread across her face. "Deal," she said, "but only if you make the pizza."

You laughed. "Challenge accepted," you said, and together, you walked towards your house.

Chapter 2 Dreams

You both arrived at your house, soon after the scent of pizza filling the air. While you busied yourself in the kitchen, Sarah settled down at your desk, seemingly engrossed in your homework.

After a delicious pizza dinner, you retreated to your room, settling onto your bed. You chatted for a while, catching up on the latest gossip and sharing funny stories. Then, Sarah let out a startled gasp.

"What's this?" she exclaimed, holding up your notebook.

You felt your heart sink. "Oh no," you muttered.

Sarah was staring intently at a page filled with… well, let's just say your "admiration" for older men. "DILF's?" she read aloud, her eyes widening. "Really?"

You groaned. "It's just a list of men I like." You mumbled the last part, feeling your cheeks burn.

Sarah's eyes widened. "You have a whole list of them?" she asked, her voice dripping with amusement.

You buried your face in your hands. "Don't judge!" you pleaded.

Sarah burst out laughing, the sound echoing through your room. "Oh my god," she gasped, "You are so weird!"

"Come on," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye, "Let's play 'Smash or Pass'."

"Smash or Pass?" Sarah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "With pictures?"

"Yep," you grinned, pulling out a magazine you'd been collecting. "I've got some… interesting choices."

Sarah opened the notebook and began flipping through the pages. "Okay," she said, "Let's see…"

The first picture was of George Clooney. "Pass," Sarah declared without hesitation.

"Smash!" you exclaimed.

Next was Robert Downey Jr. "Smash," Sarah said decisively.

"Smash baby!" you cheered.

Then came Pedro Pascal. "Smash!" Sarah exclaimed, grinning.

"Double Smash!" you declared, earning a laugh from Sarah.

"You know," Sarah said, a thoughtful expression on her face, "You should add Mr. Miller."

"Oh yeah?" you asked, a playful smirk on your lips.

"Smash," you said confidently.

"Pass," Sarah replied, raising an eyebrow. "He's your teacher, remember?"

"Rules are meant to be broken," you teased, earning a playful shove from Sarah.

And so, the game continued, filled with laughter, playful banter, and a healthy dose of teenage crushes.

🥰

That night, you had a vivid dream. Mr. Miller was there, his arms strong and comforting, holding you close. You woke up with a start, your heart racing. You quickly checked your alarm clock, determined not to be late again.

However, despite your best efforts, you overslept once more. You rushed out of the house, your heart pounding. As you approached the school, you saw Pedro, the janitor.

"Miss, you're losing that bet," he chuckled, his voice gruff but friendly.

"Okay, okay, what do I owe you this time?" you asked, already anticipating the task.

"The library," Pedro said, "I need to fix some shelves. If you could help me move some books around, that would be a great help."

"Sure thing, Pedro," you replied. "But you better bring coffee."

Pedro chuckled and nodded. "See you there, miss."

You smiled. Helping Pedro always made you feel good. He reminded you of your grandfather, a kind and lonely man who had always shown you kindness.

You entered the school building, a little flustered from your late start. Mr Miller overhead your conversation while he was leaving his car.

He approached Pedro and asked him "Why does she want to help you?" Mr. Miller's voice, deep and resonant, cut through the morning air.

Pedro chuckled. "She's the kindest girl I've met in this school, Mr. Miller. We have a little bet. If she's late, she has to help me with something around the school. She hasn't won a single bet this year"

📖

After classes, you headed to the library, eager to fulfill your "punishment." You found Pedro already there, a steaming cup of coffee waiting for you. You spent the next hour working together, joking and laughing as you moved books and organized the shelves. You even stumbled upon some fascinating old books, losing yourself in their pages for a moment.

Suddenly, the library door swung open and Mr. Miller stepped inside. "Good afternoon," he greeted you both, his eyes twinkling. "I was hoping to find a particular book here. Perhaps one of you can help me?"

You looked at Pedro, who shrugged.

"She's the history buff," Pedro said, gesturing towards you. "She knows more about these old books than I do."

Mr. Miller smiled. "Then I shall trouble you, Miss [Y/N]. I'm looking for information on…"

He paused, searching his briefcase,"…a local historian named Elias Thorne."

You felt a surge of excitement. "Elias Thorne? I know a bit about him! He wrote a fascinating book on the history of this town. Let me see…"

And so, you spent the next few minutes guiding Mr. Miller through the library archives, helping him locate the book he sought. You felt a strange sense of satisfaction, enjoying the opportunity to impress him with your knowledge.

You handed the book to Mr. Miller, a small smile playing on your lips. "Here you go, sir."

He took the book, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. "You seem to know your way around these old books," he commented, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"I guess I do," you shrugged, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

Mr. Miller seemed intrigued. "You mentioned something about losing a bet earlier?" he asked, his gaze curious. "Why do you lose these bets every morning?"

You hesitated, then decided to be honest. "I'm not really a morning person," you confessed, "I'm more of a night owl. And… well, Pedro… he's a bit lonely. He doesn't have much family, and I enjoy spending time with him. So, we made a deal. If I'm late, I help him with something around the school."

Mr. Miller looked at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. He seemed genuinely surprised. "That's… very kind of you," he said quietly.

"It's no big deal," you shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious under his intense gaze.

"Well," Mr. Miller said, a slow smile spreading across his face, "I think I'll make a bet with you too."

Your heart skipped a beat. "A bet?" you echoed, your voice trembling slightly.

Mr. Miller leaned closer, his eyes twinkling. "If you're on time to class for the rest of the week," he said, "I will buy you a little gift every day."

"Okay," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. "No problem."

💓

The next few days were a rollercoaster of emotions. You were still prone to your occasional late arrivals to other classes, but you were determined not to let Mr. Miller down. You set multiple alarms, double-checked your schedule, and even resorted to sleeping with your backpack by the door.

Despite your best efforts, you almost tripped over your own feet rushing out the door one morning, convinced you were late for Mr. Miller's class. You arrived breathless, heart pounding, only to find him already there, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Made it," you panted, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

Mr. Miller raised an eyebrow. "Just barely," he observed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But you made it."

That was most exciting week of your school year. Each day, Mr. Miller presented you with a small gift. On Monday, it was a beautifully illustrated book of poetry. On Tuesday, a box of the finest chocolates you'd ever tasted. Wednesday brought a small, intricately carved wooden bird, a reminder of your first encounter with Pedro.

You found yourself anticipating his class more and more each day, not just for the lesson, but also for the small surprise that awaited you. You even started arriving to class a few minutes early, just to savor the anticipation.

Then came Friday. You arrived to class on time, of course, and eagerly awaited your gift. Mr. Miller smiled, pulled a small bag from his briefcase, and handed it to you.

Inside, you found a colorful assortment of lollipops. You couldn't help but laugh. "Lollipops?" you asked, a playful smile on your face.

Mr. Miller shrugged. "A classic," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Besides," he added, leaning closer, "They're a reminder to always keep things sweet."

You felt a blush creep up your neck. Mr. Miller's words, and the unexpected gift, made your heart flutter. This week had been an unexpected adventure, filled with laughter, learning, and a growing sense of connection with your enigmatic teacher.

Chapter 3 Lollipop

You were deep in concentration, swirling your lollipop around in your mouth as you tackled a particularly challenging history question. You were so engrossed that you didn't notice Mr. Miller watching you.

When you finally looked up, you found him standing right in front of you, his eyes twinkling. He tapped his fingers lightly on your desk, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Come on," he said, "you have fifteen more minutes. Finish your test."

He returned to his desk, sitting down and turning to face you. "Miss… [Y/N]," he said, his voice a low rumble, "I think that… food isn't allowed in the class."

You quickly pulled the lollipop from your mouth, a loud "POP" echoing through the quiet classroom. "I-I apologize, Mr. Miller," you stammered, feeling your cheeks burn.

You stood up and quickly threw the lollipop in the trash bin. "I'm so sorry," you repeated,

"I didn't mean to… I wasn't paying attention."

Mr. Miller watched you, his expression unreadable. "It's not okay to waste food like that," he said, his voice firm but not unkind.

"I know," you mumbled, feeling a pang of guilt. "Those were my favorites, though."

"Well," Mr. Miller said, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"You should have finish that."

You felt a blush creep up your neck. Mr. Miller, your usually composed teacher, seemed a little flustered. You could clearly see him discreetly adjusting his pants with his left hand, and it was impossible to ignore the… bulge… beneath the fabric. Was he…was he having an erection?

You felt a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and an unexpected thrill.

You sat down, your entire body feeling like it was on fire. You tried to focus on your test, but your mind kept drifting back to Mr. Miller and his… adjustment.

You wondered if he noticed you noticing him.

As the class filed out, you handed your test to Mr. Miller and started to leave.

"Miss [Your Name]," he called out, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

"Can you stay for a moment? You missed something on your test."

You turned around, suddenly feeling a knot of nerves tighten in your stomach. You were alone in the classroom with him. "OMG, FUCK," you thought, your mind racing.

You approached his desk, trying to maintain your composure. He pointed to the top of the page. "You forgot to write your name."

Relief washed over you, followed by a wave of embarrassment. You quickly scribbled your name on the test, feeling your cheeks burn.

"Right," you mumbled, feeling awkward under his gaze.

Mr. Miller smiled, a slow and knowing smile that sent shivers down your spine. "Don't worry about it," he said, his voice low and husky. "Just… don't forget it next time."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on you. You noticed a glint in his eyes, a playful challenge that made your breath catch in your throat.

As you reached to give back his pen to him, it slipped from his hand.

Your fingers brushed against his hand. A jolt, a spark, something electric passed between you. You quickly pulled back, your cheeks burning.

Mr. Miller looked at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Seems we're both a little clumsy today," he murmured, his voice husky.

Mr. Miller leaned down to reach it, but he seemed to miss it on purpose. The pen rolled further under the table, out of reach.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks burn.

Mr. Miller chuckled. "No problem," he said, his voice low and husky. He tried to reach for it, but his long arms weren't quite long enough.

"Mind helping me retrieve it?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

You hesitated for a moment, then slowly knelt down, peering under the table.

"Can you please move a little bit so I can go under the table reach it?" you asked.

Mr. Miller shifted slightly in his chair, making room for you to crawl underneath. As you reached for the pen, your head bumped against the table with a loud "Fuck!"

Mr. Miller chuckled. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You were on your knees in front of him, your head throbbing slightly. "I think so," you mumbled, feeling disoriented.

As you tried to stand up, you stumbled and instinctively grabbed onto his knees to steady yourself. You felt the hard muscles beneath his pants, and a jolt of awareness shot through you.

Mr. Miller's eyes widened slightly, and he froze, his hand hovering near your arm.

The air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

You looked at him. He took your hand in his guiding it towards his bulge in his pants. He was so hard. You gently squeeze him. He moaned, closing his eyes. Your heart pounding like crazy. He enjoyed in your touches. Then he opened his eyes looking at you saying

"See what you do to me Miss...", then he added "Come on, don't be afraid"

Your panties was already soaked. You unbuckled his belt pulling down his boxers. You took his huge cock in your tiny hand, slowly rubbing him on his tip with your finger. He let out low moan. You continued your movements along his length. You leaned down to his tip, licking it. His eyes were on yours.

He gently took your hair holding it with his hand. He says "Please put it in, I wanna feel your sweet mouth." And you did as he asked.

He growled for every your move, every twirling of your tongue. You could feel his cock twitched at your harder thrust. You were going deeper. Your saliva dripping down. When he was so close.

You heard some voices approaching from the hallway. You quickly pulled him out of your mouth. He hears that POP again.

"I'm sorry, I need to go," you said abruptly, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline. You quickly gathered your things, your mind racing.

Mr. Miller watched you, a worried expression on his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

"Yes, I… I think I hear someone," you mumbled, feeling a strange sense of urgency.

You hurried out of the classroom, leaving Mr. Miller alone. He quickly stuffed his cock leaking with cum in his pants.

He stood up to the door his gaze following you as you disappeared down the hallway. You felt a strange mixture of excitement and apprehension as you walked away, the memory of the unexpected actions lingering in your mind.

You wondered if he would mention it later, or if it would simply remain an unspoken memory between you, and he wondered too.

💜

You arrived home feeling a whirlwind of emotions. The encounter with Mr. Miller had left you breathless, a strange mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. You spent the next few minutes recounting the events of the afternoon in your mind, replaying every detail, every glance, every word.

To calm your racing heart, you decided to take a hot shower. Even under the warm water, you couldn't shake off the memory of his touch, his huge cock in your mouth. Why do I want it again so badly. You asked yourself. A wave of self-consciousness washed over you. You felt a little ashamed, a little giddy, a little… you didn't know what.

Just as you were starting to feel a little more grounded, your phone rang. It was Sarah.

"Hey! I'm coming over," she announced.

You smiled. Having Sarah around would be a welcome distraction.

Sarah arrived, and you two settled onto your bed, putting on some music. You laughed and joked, talking about your day.

Sarah, ever the inquisitive one, leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. "So, what happened with Mr. Miller today? Did you survive his terrifying glare?"

You blushed, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Well, I forgot to put my name on the test," you admitted, trying to play it off casually.

Sarah's eyes widened. "Oh no! You didn't!" she exclaimed, her voice full of mock horror. "And I bet you were so flustered you could barely speak." She winked. "Knowing you, you were probably staring at him the whole time."

You blushed even harder, feeling a flutter in your stomach. "Maybe a little," you admitted, trying to hide a smile. You weren't going to tell her about the pen incident, and sucking his cock, not yet.

Sarah laughed, "You're hopeless! But you know, he seems like a pretty cool teacher."

You had to agree with her. Mr. Miller was definitely unlike any teacher you'd ever had before.

Suddenly, Sarah remembered something. "Hey, my uncle is looking for waitresses at his restaurant," she said excitedly. "You should apply! We could work together."

The idea intrigued you. You could help your mom with expenses and start saving for college.

"I'll talk to my mom," you said, your excitement growing.

At dinner, you told your mom about the job opportunity. She listened thoughtfully. "I know it will be hard with school and graduation coming up," she said, "but it could be a good experience for you."

You were determined to make it work. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but the thought of working alongside Sarah and helping your mom made it all worthwhile.

That evening, with Sarah gone, you were left alone with your thoughts. You couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Miller and your moment in the classroom. You felt a strange mix of passion, excitement, and a growing sense of… something more.

Inspired by your thoughts, you pulled out your notebook and started to write. You imagined a fantastical scenario where you and Mr. Miller were characters in a romantic novel, with so much sex scenes and falling deeply in love. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to explore your feelings without facing the reality of the situation.

The next morning, you overslept again. Panic surged through you as you realized you were late for school. You quickly grabbed your books and rushed out the door, your mind still buzzing with thoughts of Mr. Miller and the fantastical world you had created in your notebook.

📖

"We are done for today," Mr. Miller announced, his voice a low rumble that seemed to fill the room. "We have about fifteen minutes left in class. Feel free to read something quietly if you'd like."

He moved to the front of the room, organizing his papers. You watched him, a strange warmth spreading through you. You had never noticed how broad his shoulders were, or how his hair seemed to curl slightly at the nape of his neck.

You couldn't shake off the memory of his moans, the way his eyes had held yours for that brief, intense moment.

As you reached into your backpack for a book to read, you accidentally bumped against your "DILFs" notebook. "Shit!" you muttered, scrambling to retrieve it before anyone else saw it.

Sarah, ever observant, noticed your panicked movements. "What was that?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You tried to pull the notebook back, but it was too late. Sarah had already caught a glimpse of the title. "DILFs?" she exclaimed, bursting into laughter. "Oh my god, you did not!" She took the notebook.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Please don't," you pleaded.

Sarah continued to giggle, shaking her head. "This is the best thing I've seen all week," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. You knew you were doomed.

Sarah opened the notebook, her eyes widening as she scanned the page. "Wow," she breathed, "This is so naughty girl! You have quite the imagination." "You need to get fucked as soon as possible" she says.

You blushed, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and a strange thrill. "Give it back" you mumbled, trying to snatch the notebook back.

Sarah, however, was already engrossed in the story. "Wait, let me read more!" she insisted.

Just then, Mr. Miller noticed your laughter and approached your table. "Everything alright here?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Oh, uh, just… girl talk," you stammered, feeling your cheeks burn.

Sarah, realizing Mr. Miller was approaching, quickly tucked the notebook under the table, her eyes wide with mischief.

Mr. Miller smiled. "Alright then," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

You felt a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding a little faster.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. You and Sarah rushed out, caught up in your own conversation and completely forgetting the notebook. You say to her "Dumbass he almost caught us." she laughed at you.

Mr. Miller was packing up his things when he noticed the notebook still tucked under the table. He picked it up, curious.

On the cover, in bold letters, it read: "DILFs." Mr. Miller's eyebrows shot up. He opened the first page, his curiosity piqued.

He quickly realized the notebook belonged to you. He packed it up in his suitcase.

📞

It was late at night. You were scrolling through your phone, mindlessly browsing social media, when your phone rang. You glanced at the screen, surprised to see an unknown number.

"Hello?" you answered cautiously.

"Hello, is it [Y/N]?" a familiar voice asked.

"Yes," you replied, your heart pounding slightly.

"This is Mr. Miller," he said.

"How did you get my number Mr Miller?" you ask.

Then he says "You forgot your notebook in class today."

Shit everything was writed there. Your phone number, address, all your fantasies about him. You taught. ⁰

You felt a jolt of panic. "Oh, my God! I did?"

"Yes," Mr. Miller chuckled. "I found it under the table after class."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Miller. I completely forgot about it."

"I read a couple of the pages," Mr. Miller said, his voice a low rumble. "It has… interesting stories." He paused, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I was wondering," he continued, "why is my name on your 'DILF' list?"

You felt like your heart stopped for a second. Shock, embarrassment, and a strange thrill washed over you. You were speechless.

"Are you having... fantasies about me?" Mr. Miller asked, his voice low and curious.

You felt your breath catch in your throat.

Mr. Miller's question hung heavy in the air. You felt a wave of dizziness, the world suddenly tilting on its axis.

Then he adds "I like these by the why. Come on answer me"

Then you admitted "Yes...Mr Miller"

Then he asks "Are you thinking about me when you are touching yourself?" He could hear you heavy breathing.

"Yes...Mr Miller" you say.

"Are you doing it right now"...Shit you taught. How he knows. That voice near your hear makes your heart pounding your pussy burning.

"Fuck...Yes! Mr Miller." You added "I'm thinking about your big dick in my mouth right now". You swear you could hear him whimpering and cursing. Shit he was masturbating too you though.

Then you ask him "What are you thinking right now Mr. Miller?" You let an loud moan to tease him.

You started roughly rubbing your clit, you were almost close. Thinking about Mr Miller inside you. You can hear him whimpering on the phone.

"I want to stuff that needy pussy with my cock little Miss [ Y/N]"

Then you let out loud moan. You feel your climax. Mr Miller on the phone whimpering, you imagine him fucking his fist. His huge cock. He was done too.

"Can I get back my notebook tomorrow Mr. Miller" you ask him. He says "Yes" with low voice. "And you will get something more tomorrow".

"See you tomorrow Mr. Miller," you said,

"See you miss," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "Goodnight, [Y/N]."

"Goodnight, Mr. Miller," you said, and then hung up the phone, your mind racing.

🥵

Tomorrow on Mr Ben class he was showing you your test grades. Everyone got good grades, even Sarah.

When Mr. Miller called your name, you approached his desk, your heart sinking as you saw the "F" glaring back at you. "WTF?" you thought, completely bewildered. You had studied so hard for this test and were certain you had aced it.

Mr. Miller noticed your confusion. "I'm concerned about your performance on this test, [Y/N]," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

"I think some extra help might be beneficial." He suggested you attend some after-school tutoring sessions to help you improve your grade.

"Mr. Miller," you said, "I really need to fix this grade.

Mr. Miller nodded. "Certainly," he said. "I'm available for a few minutes after classes if you'd like to go over it."

"Yes I will come" you say.

You waited nervously in the classroom, your heart pounding in your chest. Mr. Miller arrived a few minutes late, apologizing for the delay.

"I had a bit of… unexpected business to attend to," he said.

He moved towards your desk, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

Then you asked him about test. How did you get lowest grade.

You was feeling a knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. "I don't understand," you said, "I was sure I got most of the questions right."

Mr. Miller leaned against the desk, his eyes fixed on yours.

"Actually," Mr. Miller said, a slow smile spreading across his face, "You got an A. You were brilliant." He paused, his gaze lingering on you. "But I wanted a few minutes with you to get your notebook back to you."

You stared at him, bewildered. "But… the F?"

Mr. Miller chuckled. "That," he said, "was some old test from another student," he explained, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He reached for the notebook, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed it to you.

You felt a blush creep up your neck. "Oh," you stammered, feeling a mixture of relief.

Mr. Miller smiled, his yes crinkling at the corners. "You have quite the imagination," he said, a playful lilt to his voice. "Keep writing."

Mr. Ben pulled out a brightly colored lollipop from his jeans pocket,

"You mentioned before these were your favorites," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. He carefully unwrapped the lollipop. Your heart pounding like crazy.

"Open your mouth, little miss," he whispers, his breath tickling your ear.

And you did as he commanded. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. He slapped your tongue with that sweet lollipop. Then he says "Suck it. I want to watch."

You licked that lollipop like it was his cock. He couldn't take his eyes of your mouth.

Then he leaned closer to your ear saying

"I might need to jerk myself off in the toilet after this."

You look at him, those puppies eyes looking at you.

"May I help you with that Mr Miller?"

He says with a smile "I would like to, but where my sweetheart?"

"I know the perfect secret spot. Follow me." You stood up, the lollipop still firmly planted in your mouth. You paused, a playful challenge in your voice, "Hurry up!"

Mr Ben, already intrigued, grinned and quickly gathered his things. He followed you down the hallway, his eyes wide with anticipation.

You led him to the library. Finally, you stopped in front of a seemingly ordinary bookshelf taking the key hidden in a book.

"Ready?" you asked, a slow smile spreading across your face.

Mr Ben nodded eagerly.

You unlocked a small old door, you opened them, revealing a small, cozy nook tucked away behind it.

"Get in" you announced, stepping inside.

The nook was surprisingly spacious, with a small table and chair. Sunlight streamed through a small window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

Ben stared in amazement. "Wow," he breathed, "This is incredible. How did you even know about this place?"

You shrugged, "A little secret I've been keeping to myself."

You got closer to Mr Ben saying to him pulling his tie and whispering him with tremble voice,

"May I suck your cock Mr Miller?"

He comes closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Naughty girl, yes you can. My poor little miss been too cock drunk in my class."

“I’m gonna tell you what to do, and you will listen" he says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning.

"Yes I do Mr Miller" you say.

“Get on your knees, babygirl. You were dreaming about this don't you?" He ask. And you just nod.

As he releases you, you get on your knees. With your shaky hands you unbuckle his belt.

You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention..

FUCK you tough I'm gonna get choked.

You took him in your hands slowly you stroke along his length, feeling the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm.

You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock, and your tongue is whirling around it. His grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently moves his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.

“You look so pretty little miss, with your teacher’s cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him. “This what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?”

“Tha’s it, just like that…” his groans are mixed with sounds of you gagging on his cock. You can hardly breathe, but you don't give up.

Then he pulls back and says "Sit on that chair and take off your shirt, I wanna see them." You managed to sit on the chair.

You quickly take off your shirt and bra, exposing your breast to him. He cupped them in his huge hands, then he leans closer putting his huge cock between them.

"Fuck" he moans as he continues to thrust his cock. He squeezes them so hard it almost hurts. His cock hitting in your chin. Then you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue. As he cumms partly on your mouth and on your tit's.

Then he moved back saying "It's my turn Miss, I need to taste that sweet pussy. She must crave for me."

You just nodded. He says "Lay on the table babygirl."

He roughly takes off your pants, reaching for your panties saying "I'm keeping these."

He takes them off then he crouched down between your thighs. He asks "Have you ever did this?

"No Mr. Miller" you answered.

Then he adds "Glad I'm the first one eating this pussy."

And he did it. Like he was some hungry animal. He licked your clit, sucked it so hard you were breathless. He put his tongue in your entrance swirling inside. You were gripping for his huge arms. You let out loud moan and saying " Fuck! Mr Miller I'm gonna". Then he puts his finger inside you, his tongue rubbing your clit.

You screamed his name "Oohh Fuck Mr. Ben"

Then he stood up saying "Sweetest pussy I ever tasted." Then he leaned on and so gently kissed you. Cupping your face saying "You were so good, let's clean you up".

He gently cleaned you with wet wipes, when you told him "I'm gonna count this as birthday present Mr Ben."

"It's your birthday?" He asks you.

You told Mr. Ben, "It's tomorrow. It's my 19th birthday."

He raised an eyebrow. "19? You should be 18, right?"

"I missed a year in middle school," you explained. "I was sick for a while."

Mr. Ben nodded understandingly. "Oh, that makes sense. Well, happy early birthday then," he said with a smile. "Welcome to adulthood."

He paused, a playful glint in his eye. "No more sneaking out past curfew."

You laughed. "I haven't snuck out in years, Mr. Miller."

He chuckled. "Good to know." He then says "You will get better birthday present tomorrow." He winked at you. You smiled at him blushing. You were wondering what is he gonna give you.

As you finished with cleaning and dressing. You tried to sneak out of library. Then you say to him "Goodbye Mr. Miller"

"Thank you for the lollipop and the lesson"

He winked at you "Goodbye Miss don't be late tomorrow."

And you two went in different ways. This was best day ever you thought.

As you left school, you saw Sarah waiting for you outside. "Where have you been, girl? I've been looking for you!" she exclaimed.

"I was with Mr. Miller," you replied, "He gave me back my notebook."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Shit, you think he opened it?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

You shook your head. "I don't think so," you replied, trying to sound confident.

"He just… returned it." But you know he has read everything. Shit when you thought about things he was doing to you five minutes before. You just laughed.

Suddenly, Sarah gasped. "I saw Mr. Ben yesterday! With Miss Jenny!"

You were speechless. "Miss Jenny, the beautiful but notoriously boring math teacher?

"They were at that new Italian restaurant," Sarah continued, "holding hands. They looked… cozy."

"Wow," you breathed, surprised and little jealous.

"Yeah," Sarah added, "Miss Jenny is gorgeous, I'll give her that. But she's so… boring. And her math tests are impossible."

You had to agree with her on that.

🫦

Your mom came home from her night shift, and you were preparing dinner.

"How was school today?" she asked, her voice tired but warm.

"Great," you replied, stirring the pot.

"Any boys?" she teased, her eyes twinkling.

"No, Mom," you laughed. "I don't have time for that right now."

Your mom sighed. "I know, I know. You're always so busy with school and everything. I'm going to work the night shift again tomorrow."

A wave of sadness washed over you. You were going to be alone on your birthday.

"Don't worry," your mom said, noticing your expression. "I'll make it up to you. I promise to buy you the biggest cake I can find."

You smiled, feeling a little better. A cake would definitely make your birthday a little brighter.

🎀

It was your birthday, and you were already running late for school. You'd spent the morning getting ready, wanting to look your best. You'd even put on the beautiful dress your mom had bought you and your favorite sneakers.

As you rushed out the door, you bumped into Pedro in the hallway. "Happy Birthday, Miss," he teased, grinning.

"Thanks, Pedro," you replied, "I'm so late!"

You hurried down the hall, your heart pounding. You were already imagining Mr. Miller's stern expression and the inevitable lecture about punctuality.

"I'm so fucked up," you muttered to yourself, your anxiety rising.

You knocked on the door and slowly opened it, your heart pounding in your chest. Mr. Ben looked at you with a stern expression.

"You are late again, Miss," he said, his voice firm. "That's not permissible and certainly not nice."

He stood up, his voice booming across the classroom. "Be quiet, everyone, while I deal with this."

He turned back to you, his expression serious.

"You are going to the principal's office right now. I can't tolerate this behavior anymore."

You felt a wave of panic wash over you. You knew you were in trouble, but you hadn't expected such a harsh reaction.

He left the classroom with you, gripping your arm and leading you through the hallway. You looked at him little scared your heart beating like crazy "I'm so sorry Mr. Miller".

He doesn't respond until he got to teacher's male bathroom. He checked if there is anybody. Pulling you inside quickly and locking the door.

Then he turned to you. You look at him and he was smiling. He grabbed you so tight, pulling you so close to him you could felt his heartbeat. He kissed you so needy and rougly.

He pulled back saying. "You look so sexy in that dress little miss." "Is that for me huh?"

You say "Yes, Mr Miller."

He pulled up your dress with his left hand squeezing your buttcheek. With right hand he still holds your face.

He kissed you again, this time with a passion that bordered on desperation. Then he kissed your neck, his lips trailing a path of fire across your skin.

He crouched down on his knees, lifting your dress. Slowly pulling your panties down, he looked at you.

You just muttered "Fuck".

He began to lick you, his tongue tracing a path from you clit to your inner thighs. You moaned, your right hand gripping his hair, with left hand you hold to his shoulder. Your legs started to shake, your moans are louder now.

He stopped looked at you "Be quiet miss." You answered "Yes....sir."

"You taste so good," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. He continues his licking on your clit, fucking your hole with one finger.

You overwhelmed with pleasure, clung to him. After he finished, he looked at you. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen – your face flushed, your eyes glazed over with pleasure, a contented sigh escaping your lips.

He knew, with a certainty that shook him to his core, that he was in love with you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making you feel this way.

He smiled, his heart overflowing with a happiness. "Happy Birthday little miss," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

He stood up, you told him "Thank you Mr. Ben." Then he told you "It was my pleasure, we should get back to class."

You nodded saying "Yes Mr. Ben" He took your hand, unlocked the door. He checked if there was anybody. You left back to the classroom.

You returned to your seat, feeling a little shaken. Sarah noticed your blushed face and wide eyes. "What happened?

You took a deep breath, "I… I got a warning from Mr. Miller."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Oh no! You didn't!"

Sarah shook her head, "Mr. Miller is usually pretty chill. What did he say?"

You hesitated, not wanting to dwell on the encounter. "Just… a warning. No big deal."

You spent rest of the class thinking how that man was eating you. God you love him so much. Everytime he had a chance when nobody was looking at him, he would gaze at you, with that playful smile.

🎂

The evening of your birthday arrived, and a wave of loneliness washed over you. Your mom was working her night shift, and Sarah was out on a date. You felt a pang of sadness as you realized you'd be spending your birthday alone.

Suddenly, your phone rang. You looked at the caller ID – it was Mr. Ben. You felt a jolt of surprise.

You hesitated for a moment, then answered. "Hello, Mr. Miller?"

"Good evening, [Y/N]," Mr. Miller's voice was warm a.nd friendly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thank you," you replied, "A little lonely, to be honest."

"Ah, I see," Mr. Miller said understandingly.

"It's your birthday, isn't it? That's not right. You should be out celebrating."

"Yeah," you sighed. "Everyone else is out having fun."

"Well," Mr. Miller said, his voice a little hesitant, "I want to bring you your birthday present." Then you hear some women voice calling him. It must be Miss Jenny. He says "Just a minute" You were put on hold. Shit you murmured.

Mr Ben room 📞

Miss Jenny opened the bathroom door asking Mr Ben "Who's calling you this late?

He says "Oh It's my friend Joel, his tire went flat he needs my help." He get up started to dress up. "I'm gonna get back soon".

She says to him, little mad " Oh come on we supposed to have romantic night".

He says "Later maybe I need to go".

He get's dressed and he took his phone.

You hung up call, couldn't wait any longer. But he calls you again.

"Yes Mr Ben" you answer.

"I hope so you didn't fall asleep, I'm on my way to your house." "Is it adress from the notebook? he asks you.

"Yes it is, Mr Ben." You just confirmed.

"Okay, see you soon" he hung up.

Then your mind go crazy. Shit he is on the way to my house. You quickly take a shower. You put on a white tank top with no bra on, and shorts. Yes you wanna tease him little bit. Little bit a perfume and you combed hair. Then you hear the doorbell. Your heart skipped a beat. He is finally here. You rushed to open the door.

And there he is, in black shirt with his glasses on and a most beautiful smile.

"Good evening Miss" he greeted you.

"Good evening Mr Ben, please come in."

You guided him to the living room. And he was holding small box. Then he handed you a box saying with warm smile "I got you a birthday cake."

You were touched by his gesture. "Thank you, Mr. Ben," you said, "This is so kind of you."

Mr. Ben smiled. "You're welcome. We could eat it together." "Of course." You say.

While you were eating a cake, his eyes never left yours. He had that mischievous smile. Then he asks you "Why are you alone on your birthday?"

You answer "Well my mom is at night shift at work, my bestfriend is on a date."

And then he asks "And your Dad?" You say sadly "I have never met him, he left us when I was baby." Mr Ben felt sad for you "I'm sorry"..

Then you say "Well lucky me I got you here tonight Mr Ben."

He adds "I will be there for you always."

Then he asked you curious "Why do you like me Miss?" You answered with a smile "You are handsome, nice and you are Zaddy!"

He laughed so hard on that compliment. "Thank you Miss" he adds "So do you just like older men or you have daddy issues?"

You answered with a laugh "Both Mr Miller, and I like you a lot"

You gently kissed him, a soft flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

Then he says to you "I got one more present for you."

"You have one more present for me?" you whispered, your voice soft.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Just a little something extra." He handed you a small, velvet box. With trembling fingers, you lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of silk, lay a breathtaking necklace. A delicate silver chain held a tiny, exquisitely crafted butterfly, its wings shimmering with a thousand tiny facets.

You gasped, speechless. It was perfect. "Mr Ben..." you breathed, your voice thick with emotion. "It's... it's beautiful."

He leaned in and kissed you again, a long, slow kiss that spoke volumes. "Happy Birthday, Miss" he murmured against your lips.

Tears welled up in your eyes. You pulled back, slipping the necklace around your neck. It felt light as a feather, yet somehow, incredibly precious. "Thank you, Mr Ben," you whispered, your voice choked with gratitude. "Thank you for everything."

You felt a surge of happiness, a warmth that spread through you like sunshine. This was the best birthday ever.

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I told you I had a presents for you." He leaned down and whispered, "I saved the best for last."

You felt your breath catch in your throat. "There's more?" you asked, a shiver running down your spine.

He chuckled, his eyes full of warmth. "Just wait and see."

He lifted you gently, your legs wrapping involuntarily around his waist. You felt a surge of dizziness, a mixture of excitement and passion. He carried you to the bedroom, his touch surprisingly gentle.

He gently laid you down on the bed, the soft sheets a welcome contrast to the cool air. You felt a flutter of nerves, this was your first night together.

He leaned over you, his gaze intense. "Are you ready for the final surprise?" he whispered, his breath fanning your face.

You could only nod, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. He leaned down and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that ignited a fire within you.

🎀

He knew you were a virgin, and he was incredibly gentle. He slowly began to undress you, kissing your neck and trailing kisses down your chest. "Don't be afraid," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I'll be gentle. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just tell me, and I'll stop."

You felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. You wanted him, you wanted him so badly.

"I... I want you too, Mr. Ben," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smiled, a tender expression in his eyes. "Good, and please call me Ben" he murmured, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss.

He continued to undress you slowly, his touch lingering, exploring every inch of your skin. You felt a wave of sensations, a mixture of fear and anticipation, but mostly, an overwhelming desire for him.

He moved slowly, tenderly, checking in with you every step of the way. "Is this okay?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, unable to speak. You were lost in the moment, consumed by the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin.

This was your first time, and it was everything you had ever dreamed of.

He gently removed your panties, revealing you completely to him. He leaned down and began to gently lick your clit, his tongue swirling around it. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I'm going to stretch you out a little bit, okay?"

You nodded, breathless. He was so gentle, so considerate. He slowly inserted his finger inside you, and you moaned, arching your back against him. He continued to explore you slowly, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

He leaned back, his eyes searching yours. "Are you ok?" he asked softly.

"Yes," you whispered, "Please continue."

He began to slowly push his tip inside you. You twitched, a mixture of pleasure and a sharp pain. He paused, his eyes filled with concern. "I know baby, it hurts..you will be alright" he says.

"Ok, please go on," you urged, "it feels… amazing."

He slowly increased the pressure, his movements deliberate and controlled. "Oh baby," he groaned, "you're so tight, you take me so well." He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Condom," you whispered.

He says "Oh no baby I wanna feel you, I wanna cum inside this pussy." He growled pushing harder inside you. "Oohh...shit!" you scream "Fuck me Daddy" his cock twitched by your words.

He continued his thrust more fast and harder. His kisses trailed down your neck.

You clung to his shoulders, breathless.

'Fuck, you feel so good,' you whispered, your voice hoarse. 'So big.'

He groaned, his movements intensifying.

"Oh fuck, this is the best pussy I've ever had,' he growled, his words muffled against your skin.

As you reached your peak, you tightened around him, urging him on.

You both reached a crescendo, a wave of pleasure washing over you both. He pulled back, his eyes filled with love.

"Look at that, that's pussy is mine now. Understand that? You confirmed his words

"Yes Mr Ben I'm only yours."

"I love you," he breathed, his voice hoarse.

You smiled, your heart overflowing. "I love you too, Ben," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

You lay there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the afterglow of passion still lingering. It was a moment of pure bliss, a feeling of intimacy and connection that you had never experienced before. You knew this was just the beginning of something truly special.

Suddenly, the memory of your mother returning home hit you like a wave. "Oh no," you whispered, "my mom will be home soon."

Mr Ben's face fell. "I have to go," he said, his voice laced with concern. He gently kissed you, a lingering touch that spoke volumes. "I got you this," he said, handing you a small, discreet package. "Plan B. Just take it as soon as possible."

You watched him get dressed, a knot of sadness tightening in your chest. You knew he had to go, but the thought of being without him already felt unbearable. You found a glass of water and swallowed the pill, the bitter taste a stark reminder of the fleeting nature of the moment.

As you listened to the sound of his footsteps fading down the stairs, you felt a wave of loneliness wash over you. It had been the most incredible night, but it was over far too soon.

Chapter 5 You really love me

The rhythmic clatter of dishes and the low murmur of conversation filled the air of the bustling restaurant. You were working the night shift, a familiar routine to earn extra money for college. And you want to help your mom with expenses. Your friend Sarah, a constant source of both support and distraction, worked alongside you.

Suddenly, you spotted a familiar face. Miss Jenny, your high school math teacher, was seated at a table, her expression thoughtful as she waited for someone. The memory of her strict demeanor and challenging equations briefly flashed through your mind.

Jake, Sarah's cousin, a fellow waiter, approached Miss Jenny with a practiced charm. Older than you, Jake had a reputation for being flirtatious, but he wasn't your type. You love Mr Ben, and right now you are thinking about him. You miss him so much.

Sarah told you about Jake. "He's involved in secret relationship with an older woman," she whispered to you.

You were deep in thought, replaying the memories of the previous night with Mr. Ben, when the restaurant doors swung open and he walked in.

Your heart leaped, but then your eyes followed his gaze as he made his way directly to Miss Jenny's table. He greeted her with a warm smile, and the way he leaned in to listen intently made your stomach clench. He seemed genuinely interested, even captivated by her.

A wave of jealousy washed over you. You felt a pang of hurt – he was here, at the restaurant where you worked, spending time with another woman.

Determined to distract yourself, you approached their table, "Good evening, what can I get for you?" you asked, your voice carefully neutral.

Ben looked surprised, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. Miss Jenny, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of emotions, placed her order.

As you walked away, you glanced back at their table. Miss Jenny left to the restroom. Ben was left alone, his attention focused on his phone. You noticed him typing a message. Your heart sank. He was texting someone.

A few moments later, your phone buzzed. It was a message from Mr. Ben:

📨"I miss you. You look beautiful tonight."

Anger bubbled up inside you. He was with another woman, yet he was sending you flirtatious messages. You felt a surge of hurt and confusion. Unable to bear the tension any longer, you excused yourself to take out the trash, needing the fresh air to clear your head.

You were walking past the women's restroom when you witnessed an unexpected sight: Miss Jenny and Jake, fucking in the restroom. They were kissing deeply, their bodies intertwined. You were both, surprised and a little angry.

You hurried back to Ben's table, your voice trembling slightly. "Your… girl… Miss Jenny, she's in the restroom… with a waiter… having sex."

Ben's face paled. "What?!" he exclaimed, his voice sharp with disbelief.

He sprang to his feet, a furious expression on his face, and stormed towards the restroom.

You followed at a distance, your heart pounding. You heard his voice, loud and angry, echoing from within the restroom.

"Jenny! Really? While I was at the table waiting for you?"

A moment of stunned silence followed, then Jenny's voice, laced with apology, "I… I'm so sorry, Ben. I don't know what came over me."

Ben's voice was cold and dismissive.

"Stop. We are done. Don't come to my house anymore. I don't want to see you."

Jake, who had been holding Jenny's hand, pulled her away from Ben. "Let him go," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You don't need him. You are mine."

You watched in surprise as Jenny, seemingly dazed, allowed Jake to lead her away. You were shocked by Ben's reaction. He had been so furious, so hurt, yet he remained surprisingly calm. He turned to you, his eyes filled with a strange mixture of disbelief and resignation.

Ben took your hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "When is your shift over?" he asked, his voice still a little rough but with a hint of warmth returning to his eyes.

"In about 15 minutes," you replied, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Good," he said "Can you come with me?"

You agreeded, telling Sarah you are going home with Mr Miller.

Sarah told you "Go ahead and have some fun." She'll cover for you.

You were stunned. "Come on, let's go," he said, he took your hand.

You quickly gathered your stuff and followed him out of the restaurant. He opened the passenger door of his car for you, a small gesture that made your heart flutter.

As he started driving, you couldn't help but ask, "How…how were you so calm back there?"

He glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "I came here tonight to break up with her," he admitted. "She made it easier for me. I knew she was cheating on me. I found out last week." He looked at you, his eyes intense. "I only love you, little Miss. That's all that matters. I only want to be with you."

Your heart soared. You leaned over and kissed him, a long, passionate kiss that spoke volumes.

"Where are we going?" you asked, your voice soft.

"To my place," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You quickly called Sarah, letting her know you were going to Mr Ben house. If your mom calls her, she need to tell you are with her at sleepover. Then you called your mom, explaining that you were staying with Sarah.

As Ben continued to drive, he leaned over and kissed you again. You felt a wave of happiness wash over you. It had been a crazy night, but it had ended on the most perfect note.

❤️

When you arrived at Ben's house, he offered you something to drink and a small snack. You accepted gratefully, still buzzing from the adrenaline of the evening's events. He led you to his bedroom, the air thick with anticipation.

This time, the passion was different. It was raw, intense, overflowing with the pent-up desire and the relief of finally being together. He was more passionate than before, yet still incredibly gentle and caring. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes burning with desire as he watched you approach. "Come here babygirl, I want you to ride me."

Taking a deep breath, you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. You put inside his thick and huge cock with your right hand.

Shit you taught. Just the tip is making you go crazy.

When he was deep inside you, you began to move slowly, feeling his hands guiding you, encouraging you. He groaned softly, his eyes closed in pleasure. "You're so good at this,little Miss" he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Then he gently shifted, guiding you beneath him. His movements were more forceful now, more demanding, but you welcomed the change. The intensity of his touch ignited a fire within you. You arched your back, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders.

"Mr Ben!" you cried out, your voice strained with pleasure. You buried your face in the pillow, biting your arm to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape. "Yes… Fuck me harder… Sir…" you whispered, the word "Sir" slipping out unconsciously, a playful echo of his earlier teasing.

He groaned, his voice rough with desire. "You are taking me so well, Miss," "This pussy is made for me" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

You felt a surge of pleasure, while he was more deeper inside you. This was your night, your moment, and you were savoring every second of it.

He gently slapped your ass cheeks, his hands firm but not harsh. He grabbed them, teasing you, pulling them slightly apart before bringing them back together.

"Fuck Mr. Miller!" you cried out, your voice hoarse with pleasure. "Ohhh, what are you doing to me?"

He groaned, his breath hot against your ear.

"I love you, babygirl," he murmured. "You are mine now and forever."

And in that moment, you knew he meant it.

You arched your back, gasping as you neared your climax.

Then, he released, cumming on your ass.

Afterwards, he gently helped you clean up, leading you to the bathroom and running a bath for you both. He washed you tenderly, his touch gentle and loving.

Exhausted but content, you both climbed into bed, falling asleep in each other's arms, the lingering warmth of passion still enveloping you.

You woke up to the delicious smell of pancakes. Groaning softly, you opened your eyes and saw Ben in the kitchen, flipping pancakes on the griddle. A smile spread across your face.

You crept up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. "Good morning," you murmured, kissing his neck.

He turned around, a wide grin on his face. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he replied, kissing you back. "Pancakes are almost ready."

As you ate breakfast, you felt a warmth spread through you. Ben was so kind, so considerate.

"I need to take you home," he said after a while, his expression serious. "And I need to talk to your mom. I don't want to hide anything from her."

You hesitated. "I don't know, Ben. It could be risky for your job."

He took your hand, his gaze intense. "I know," he said, "but I can't live a lie. I'll find another job, in another city if I have to. But I won't let fear dictate our lives."

His words touched you deeply. You realized that with Ben, you could face any challenge, no matter how daunting.

Ben and you arrived at your house, your heart pounding against your ribs. Your mom was surprised to see you, her eyebrows raised in a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Mr Ben, this is my mother," you introduced, your voice slightly trembling.

Mr Ben stood up and shook your mother's hand, his smile warm and genuine. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. [Your Last Name]," he said.

The conversation flowed surprisingly well. You sipped on coffee, enjoying the easy banter between Mr Ben and your mother. He was charming and articulate, answering her questions with honesty and sincerity.

Then, he said it. "I love your daughter, Mrs. [Y/L/N]," he said, his gaze unwavering.

"And I want to be in a serious relationship with her."

Your mother was visibly shocked.

"You… you love her?" she stammered, her eyes wide. "He's a bit old for you, you know."

You took a deep breath. "Mom, I love him too."

Your mother looked from you to Mr Ben and back again, her expression a mixture of concern and apprehension. "I… I just don't want to see my daughter get hurt," she admitted. "I don't want her to be used and heartbroken."

Ben reached across the table and took your hand.

"I understand your concern, Mrs. [Your L/N]," he said, his voice sincere. "But I assure you, that will never happen. I am serious about her. I want to marry her, when she's ready."

Your mother looked at you, her eyes searching your face. You smiled, your heart overflowing with love and happiness. You knew, with a certainty that settled deep within your soul, that this was the beginning of something truly special.

💖

Graduation day was a whirlwind of emotions. The pomp and circumstance, the cheers of friends and family, the thrill of finally crossing that stage – it was all a bit overwhelming. But then, amidst the celebratory buzz, you spotted him – Mr Ben, standing tall and proud, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand.

Your mom was beaming beside him, her eyes filled with pride.

As you approached, Mr Ben stepped forward, his eyes sparkling. "You did it," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "I'm so incredibly proud of you."

He handed you the flowers, their fragrance filling the air. You thanked him, your heart pounding.

Then, he did it. He knelt down on one knee, the bouquet forgotten at his feet.

"Y/N," he began, his voice trembling slightly,

"I've loved you since the moment I met you. You are the most amazing woman I know, kind, intelligent, and beautiful inside and out. You make me a better man. Will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?"

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Your mom's jaw dropped. You, however, were speechless. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, his face etched with love and sincerity.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Yes, Ben, yes!"

He slid a stunning ring onto your finger, then pulled you into a passionate kiss. Cheers erupted from the crowd, but you were oblivious to everything except the warmth of his lips and the overwhelming joy that surged through you.

You and Mr. Ben moved to the new city, a fresh start for your new life together. He found a job teaching at a local high school, and you landed a position at a nearby bookstore and attended the college. Life was good. You were happy, building a life together, exploring your new surroundings.

Then, two years into your new life, you discovered you were pregnant. Ben was overjoyed, his face beaming with delight. He was incredibly supportive throughout your pregnancy, helping with chores, cooking delicious meals, and attending every doctor's appointment with you.

Finally, your baby boy arrived, a tiny bundle of joy who filled your lives with laughter and love. Ben was a natural with him, changing diapers, playing silly games, and showering him with affection.

One evening, as you watched your son play with his father on the living room floor, a wave of contentment washed over you. "I love you, Ben," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Love you too, Miss," he replied, pulling you close. "I'm glad that day, all those years ago, you bumped into me." And you say "I'm glad that I was late to the class that morning."

You held him tight, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the life they had built together – a life filled with love, laughter, and the promise of a bright future.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like, reblog and comment ❣️

I apologize for any writing mistakes, my native language is not English.

[beargyufairy]

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid

So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

To make them love me and make it seem effortless

This this the first time I've felt the need to confess

And I swear I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care

[frickingnerd]

sneaking away from the ball

pairing: link x gn!reader

summary: your knight and you sneak away during a night where you're supposed to meet your future spouse, to make out in secret...

it was the night of the long-awaited ball. many suitors from all parts of hyrule had gathered here tonight to ask for your hand in marriage. yet instead of introducing yourself to them inside the ball room, you were… busy outside, in the gardens, with the knight assigned for your protection.

“you taste so sweet, my love…” link murmured against your lips, hungrily stealing one kiss after another from you. he couldn't help but want to kiss you, after seeing all those men fawn over you. he needed to remind himself who your heart belonged to.

“link…” you softly whispered against his lips, as his hands had a firm grip on your waist, keeping you in place. you knew how jealous he could get, so you allowed him those few minutes of having you all to himself.

“just… make sure nobody sees us, alright…?”

[wink-and-whisper]

"I'm okay with it, too .."

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[miryum]

Don't Pity Me, My Princess (Azriel x Reader)

With Azriel as your personal knight, it's getting harder and harder for both of you to ignore your feelings.

Warnings: whole lotta angst. Talk of children and childbirth because royalty need heirs, you know? Az doesn’t have his shadows (even though it was so hard to write him without them) but is still called Shadowsinger. Azriel's mother was abused and there's like, one sentence about it

Word Count: 5k

Azriel had lived at the palace since he was a young boy. His mother had knocked on the servant’s quarters one dark night, begging for someone to take her son. She could handle an abusive husband, but she couldn’t bear her baby boy to suffer the same fate as she did. An old maid took pity on the new mother and agreed to house, clothe, and educate the child. Just before the new mother left, she kissed Azriel’s cheek and whispered his name. “You’ll do good things, my dear. I am so sorry.”

Coincidentally, a couple months later, the Queen gave birth to an infant girl. Princess Y/n was heralded with parades and celebrations, the new heir apparent. Meanwhile, in the servant’s quarters, a baby with a thick head of black hair and small little wings was just learning how to lift his head, staring up at the maids and butlers who saved his life.

Azriel grew up preparing for the life of a knight. He remembered growing up watching the knights train as he played with his own wooden sword. He remembered beating his still-developing wings to try and see over the wooden barrier of the jousting arena. He remembered when the knights first caught sight of him, trying to hack away at a dummy. They teased him at first, but then, just like his entire life, they took pity on him. The next week, Azriel began training as a squire.

It was a long time before he earned his leathers and then his siphons, but the Shadowsinger became a name that was both respected and feared throughout the kingdom. The King sent him on missions all over the continent and Azriel always returned successful. He would fight in the jousts and consistently win. He had maidens and ladies swooning over him, but they weren’t who he yearned for.

That’s why he volunteered, almost a bit too hastily, when the King asked for extra protection over his daughter, Princess Y/n. 

Azriel’s mind was filled with you, almost every moment of every day. It couldn’t be healthy, that he was aware of, but having grown up next to you, even if from the shadows, he had forged a deep connection to you.

When he was young, he had hardly noticed the little princess completing her studies. He couldn’t remember a time when he saw her in the halls or at the training ring — which is where he most frequented. But one day, a year or two after he had turned a teen, Azriel had fought in his first joust. In any joust, it was customary for a knight to be sponsored by a lady of the court. A lady usually had a favourite knight she regularly sponsored, so Azriel’s stomach was in a pit when it was time to trot by for potential sponsorship. Who would ever cheer for the newest, youngest knight? Azriel sure could beat a village boy in combat, but he was still the smallest and scrawniest of all of the palace’s knights — if you could even call him that. He could recall his anxiety as if it was yesterday. The way the crowd was cheering, the way his horse’s hooves kicked up dirt underneath, and the way he began to sweat as he tried to sit straight. 

And then, as he passed the royal box, you stood. Azriel almost kept his horse trotting by, sure it was a mistake, but when he saw you extract your blue handkerchief, he pulled on the reins. By some fortuity or fortune, your handkerchief was the same colour as his siphon. He had just earned his first one the week prior. Through his metal visor, he stared, wide-eyed, as you reached down and tucked your handkerchief into the folds of his armour. The rest of the court was watching too, but Azriel didn’t see them. He could only focus on the way his heart sped up when you whispered, “good luck.” 

You were an utter vision. Azriel was sure that you had chosen him to be your champion because of the closeness in your ages, but your support, even if it was just a piece of cloth you had embroidered, meant the world. He hadn’t won his first joust, or his second, but you kept sponsoring him. Azriel became accustomed to stopping under the royal box and bowing to you before heading to his starting position. Sometimes, especially if it was an important event, you would have a new handkerchief for him, or even some whispered encouragement, but Azriel didn’t need those things as long as he could keep making eye contact with you. And then he started winning. He could still hear your excited screams as his javelin hit his opponent straight on, which gained Azriel the championship. It wasn’t unusual for members of the court to get invested in the jousting, but others found it humorous that you were jumping from your seat to see better. However, you were only a teenager, and they knew you would soon be able to control your emotions. 

You had not-so-patiently waited for Azriel to bring his horse back around to the royal box after doing a lap of the stadium. People had thrown flowers and kisses and Azriel had shed his helmet, his cheeks hot from both the exertion and attention. When he saw you, he bowed deeply and handed a flower that someone had thrown to him. It was a small red rose. Your gloved fingers brushed his as you took the flower. His black hair hung over his face as he ducked his head. You made a mental note to have the barber stop by the barracks. “My Princess,” he muttered, head still bowed. “Thank you for choosing me as your champion, all those months ago.”

“Well, Sir Azriel, it certainly paid off, didn’t it?” you replied, smiling down at him. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” You nodded to one of your handkerchiefs that was tucked in the chink of his armour, right above his breast. 

That was the past. And now, Azriel had the glorious opportunity to stand in front of the King and Queen, multiple siphons displayed proudly as he suggested his own name for the position of your bodyguard. Your childhood knight was retiring, something everyone thought was best as his wit, speed, and strength declined. That opened up the position. The King and Queen had called for the Shadowsinger’s opinion and he gave it, however biased he was with his feelings. “Your Majesties, I believe that the best thing for this kingdom and your daughter would be if I offered my services.” 

“And why is that, Shadowsinger? Wouldn’t you rather be sent on missions and participate in protecting our kingdom?”

“With all due respect, my King, the princess is the face of the kingdom,” Azriel said, a knee pressing against the floor of the throne room. It hurt, yes, but he could handle it if it meant sparing you the pain. “The people love her, but that also means many hate her. There are too many dangers, especially with other kingdoms threatening to encroach on our borders. I would be able to protect the princess, and you and the Queen, more efficiently if I was her personal guard.”

The two monarchs exchanged a look before the Queen nodded. “Very well, then. You’ll assume the position effective immediately. You shall accompany Princess Y/n to events and daily excursions. You’ll be briefed more extensively later this week.”

Azriel nodded and stood. He thanked the King and Queen and hurried out, trying to conceal his budding smile.

“Do you remember all the signals?” you called from your dressing room. 

Azriel was standing outside, content to just listen to your voice, but he replied, “yes, my princess.”

“And you’re wearing your dress uniform?”

“Yes, my princess.”

“Are all the other guards as well?”

“Yes, my princess.”

The door then opened and you peeked out. “And are you sick of me asking you senseless questions?” you asked, an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Never, my princess,” Azriel answered softly, eyes holding yours. “Are you almost ready?”

You ducked back into your dressing room, voice floating out again. “Almost. I believe we just need some more hairpins, yes?” Your maid responded in an affirmative and a couple minutes later, the door opened once more. There you stood in a cobalt gown that cascaded down to the floor, hair all done up, and jewellery proudly displayed on your knuckles and upon your collarbone. It didn’t escape Azriel that your dress was the same colour as his siphons.

Azriel had spent years serving under the King and Queen, honing his emotions to be the stoic force he needed to be. But, with you in front of him, he found his resolve cracking. His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Do I look that horrible, sir?” you teased.

The guard immediately shook his head. “No, my princess. Quite the opposite, in fact. You…” his jaw tensed. “Those princes and dukes will be tripping over their feet.”

As much as Azriel would love to pretend that you were his and he would be the only one accompanying you tonight, he knew that this ball was for a very specific reason, and one he did not like. Your parents needed you wed, and it couldn’t be to him.

Nobility and court members alike knew to avoid Azriel when he was watching you. You were on your fifth dance with the fifth man and Azriel made sure to walk around the dance floor as you moved, always being as close as possible.

The moment Azriel had known he was to be your new personal knight, he had created a series of hand signals for you to use covertly. He was always on the lookout for your well-being and thankfully, there had only been a few times when you had needed to use the hand signals.

Months prior, your parents had held an anniversary ball for their marriage. You were a bit younger, more naive, and Azriel had only been your personal knight for just under a year. He had loved every moment of it, but he couldn’t help but feel a budding sense of anticipatory fear as he saw you twirl around the dance floor carelessly. You had one of your younger cousins in your arms and was spinning them around to their delight. While Azriel wanted to imagine a smaller child in the stead of your cousin, perhaps one with dark hair and your eyes and little wings that replicated his own, he was more focused on the older man that was watching you.

A measly Count from further South, the man looked twice your age and three times as intoxicated. He stayed on the outskirts of the celebration, but the Shadowsinger was not one to miss something.

When the Count approached you after your dance with your cousin, Azriel didn’t intervene. He couldn’t act only on a suspicion that the Count was malicious. And he wouldn’t act without your express approval.

But then he saw you twist the ring on your pointer finger.

When Azriel had first become your bodyguard, you were unsure if you could remember all the signals he had wanted you to memorise. A deeper fear, admittedly, was that he wouldn’t be watching and then unintentionally leave you to your own devices. Azriel was determined, however, to never waive your trust. He immediately came marching in, whispering something meaningless into your ear under the guise of matters only you, the princess, could attend to, and swept you away. A dirty look was thrown to the Count and Azriel made sure never to let you near him again. In fact, the Count was barred from any and all future events.

Meanwhile, you had finished your dance with the nameless suitor and Azriel already had an arm stretched out for you. You took it gratefully, needing a respite from all the men giving you unabashed stares. “I really do hate this,” you said to him as he guided you away. “I don’t see why they’re even letting me choose my husband if he will be from this very specific pool of men. At this point, it would be easier to simply betroth me to whomever they see fit.”

“You know my feelings on that, my princess,” Azriel replied. “And I’m sure your parents feel the same. They wish for you to have some sort of semblance of choice and happiness.” Even if it is not with me, the man who would worship you.

You sighed and looked down at your feet. “I know, good sir. But it’s tiring, as I’m sure you can realise. I’d much rather be in my room, engaging in the arts or taking a nap.”

Azriel couldn’t help but let out a deep laugh, one that drew your lips up into a brilliant smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m sure you would.” He paused and then looked down at you. You looked so perfect on his arm and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep you there. “Here’s a proposition: if you survive the rest of this evening, I will dance with you.”

Your eyes immediately light up and Azriel swore the stars themselves burned brighter, pledging their allegiance to you. God, you were like ambrosia in his veins and how he wished for it to keep flowing. “Really?” you gasped. Azriel had been very conservative in his dances, even though, unbeknownst to you, he would dance on forever if you asked. But whenever he held you in his arms, it was too intoxicating. Too dangerous. He was still the Shadowsinger, even if he was sworn to protect you. The hands he held you with had been the notorious cause for so much pain. The thought of telling you about his past missions… It scared him more than imaginable. Those memories were ones best kept locked away within the shadows. He didn’t want you to think of the people he’s hurt – of the suffering he had caused – when you looked at him.

So all he did was nod back, smiling the soft look only you could bring out.

The night slowly wore on, the candles flickering over the walls, bidding the departing guests farewell. And still you stayed. Even as the moonlight rose above the windows and the maids and butlers slowly began cleaning up, you stayed. Only the musicians remained as Azriel led you to the middle of the floor. There was an unspoken trust between you and the musicians, knowing they wouldn’t tell your parents (who had already gone to bed) about your singular, last dance with your knight.

Easily, you placed your hand on his shoulder and Azriel’s palm flexed on the small of your back. The way your dress swished softly was a small distraction from the thoughts swirling in Azriel’s mind. He drew your joined hands closer to his chest as he thought back to how you danced with those other men. As if you knew he needed comfort, you stepped closer to Azriel, resting your head on his chest and eyes closing with exhaustion. His arms automatically wrapped around you, holding you tightly – almost protectively – as he let his cheek rest on your hair. His eyes softened and he murmured, “tired, my princess?” 

“Over a multitude of things,” you replied. 

Azriel tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “A multitude of things?”

“I almost wish I didn’t have to marry,” you admitted. “It’s not as easy as it seems in the stories. I need to take alliances into consideration and the happiness of my people. Along with wealth, resources, and good blood. My feelings hardly add into the equation, even though I want them too.” You then shook your head and changed the subject, a teasing smile on your lips. “Has anyone complimented your wings before?”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“No,” he responded, a bit hoarsely. “No one has.”

You hummed and shook your head. “They should.” Your eyes trailed down to your intertwined hands before giving his palm a small squeeze. His burn scars marred his skin, contractures stretching over his hands and arms and small keloids by his wrists and creeping up to his elbows. Azriel winced slightly at the pressure of your hand on his scarred skin, memories of the pain flooding back. He tried to hide it, not wanting to ruin the moment, but a flicker of discomfort crossed his features. You instantly lifted your hand slightly to give him reprieve. Azriel wished for the contact back, but he knew he was the one to blame for the lack of touch. He was the one to make you flinch away.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, trying to bring the conversation back to his wings. "You’re the first.”

“I’m privileged then,” you murmured as he spun as the music lilted. “Though it truly is a pity.”

As you spun around, Azriel's wings extended instinctively, the iridescent membranes catching the moonlight. He held you close, ensuring your balance, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to revel in the beauty of his own wings. They were a part of him, and something he couldn’t imagine living without. He watched you longingly as you twirled in his arms. His eyes followed the movement of your gown as you twirl. When he had you pressed close to him once again, he replied quietly, “is it really a pity, my princess?”

“They should’ve been complimented — all of you should’ve been complimented a thousand times before now,” you corrected yourself quickly, thumb sweeping over his hand where yours was placed on top of his. “You don’t see how amazing you are because you hide behind your scars and memories. But you’re the best knight I’ve had.”

The words carved him open deeper than any blade, striking into the insecurities he held. The sincerity in your voice and the gentle touch of your thumb on his hand made something in his chest ache. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. The idea of all of him being complimented, rather than just specific parts or aspects, such as his fighting ability, was a foreign concept. He glanced down at you, eyes filled with sereness. “All of me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough.

You nodded with a caring, hopeful smile on your face. Maybe he would finally see how sensational he was.

Eventually, you came to a stop, standing in the middle of the room. The musicians finished their song and quietly packed up, leaving. Yet, you and Azriel were still in each other’s arms. Azriel continued to hold you, savoring the moment. He relished being able to hold you like this, without anyone else around. 

“Do you truly pity me?” he wondered.

You shook your head. “No,” you whispered out. “I would never be able to pity the man who devoted his life to me. I would never be able to pity the man who devotes himself to me. And I don’t think I have it in me to pity the man whom I truly care for.”

For a brief moment, he stood rigid, unused to such easy affection. Then, his wings unfurled slightly, wrapping around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the world outside. “As I you, my princess,” he allowed himself to say, scared that if anything more were to come from his mouth, it would be a declaration of unwanted love.

“Will you ever call me anything else?” you couldn’t help but tease, looking up at him.

Azriel smiled back down at you, hazel eyes warm with love. “No, my princess.” The night was silent, but Azriel didn’t want to be. His lips parted to tell you something, but when your eyes darted down to them, he found himself asking, “have I yet praised your dress?”

“You have,” you laughed. “But it’s kind of you to do it again. I wanted to match you, you know?” You reached down and pulled your dress to the side to reveal a glittering sheen of fabric under the thick cobalt fabric.

Azriel’s eyes widened in appreciation. “Beautiful, princess,” he admired sincerely once again. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” He repeated the words you had said to him all those years ago.

“I’ll always wear your colours,” you replied. “You’re my knight, after all. Ever since I was young.” Your hand slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck, thumb brushing against his skin and along the hair by the nape of his neck.

The Shadowsinger couldn’t contain his shiver. “Must you, my princess?” he breathed out, voice rough.

“Must I what?”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut and his head dipped down, nose brushing against your forehead. “Must you marry some duke or prince?”

It took you a while to respond and Azriel’s heart only beat faster each second that passed. “No,” you admitted quietly. “But my parents would like it. They won’t have me marry a commoner, but… I could very well marry a knight.”

“Princess…” Every part of his soul seems to be reaching out, grasping for you. His grip tightened slightly, holding you against him as if he feared you would be ripped. His hands trembled slightly as they remained on your waist. There was a vulnerability in his eyes – a desperate need for confirmation that the words you said were real. “Do not give me hope if you plan on tearing it away. It is too cruel of you.”

“So it’s true,” you muttered. “You have feelings for me?”

“I am not brave like you,” he instead said. “I’ve been your loyal knight for years, my princess. But I couldn’t bear to make myself a liability to your heart. I couldn’t do that to you. I care what others think of me, as much as I hate it. They cannot pity me, I cannot have it so.”

You shook your head sadly. “Sir, they do not feel sorry for you. No one does, especially not me. You’ve protected me for so long, you’ve more than earned your place here by my side. This isn’t some fanciful notion born of youthful indiscretion. You and I both know that. This is a mature, considered love that, hopefully, you feel too.” Your voice cracked as you continued and tears shone in your eyes. Oh, how Azriel hated to be the one to cause you such pain. “My love for you, as you are, flaws and all, is why I adore you so deeply.”

The man couldn’t bring himself to say anything. What did one say when the love of their life confessed feelings?

You couldn’t see the way he gazed down at you, almost lovingly. You stubbornly kept your cheek on his chest, trying to minimise the way your cheeks heated up. Why wasn’t he saying anything? But you were already so far in, so you couldn’t help but whisper, “you would do most anything for me, correct, good sir?”

“Within a heartbeat.”

“Do you mind if I demand something from you?” you asked.

Azriel chuckled softly at your question, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. He tilted his head curiously as his fingers traced small circles on your lower back. “What did you have in mind, my princess?” he asked, his voice low. “I'm curious now... What could possibly entice you enough to make a deal with the devil himself?” 

“Oh, the devil himself?” you repeated, shaking your head as you laughed softly. Somehow, he always managed to make you feel better, no matter the embarrassment that coursed through you. “Is that what you truly think of yourself?” You smiled up at him, not answering his question as you tried to find the courage to do so. Finally, you whispered out, “a kiss.”

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at your whispered confession. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, hardly believing what he heard. He could feel his heart skip a beat, like a leaf in the wind. You looked so small in his strong arms, so hopeful. “Is that all you would ask for?” he finally managed to ask. His wings twitched a bit.

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah. That’s what I would demand.”

He stared down at you, taking in every detail of your face - the slight parting of your lips, the wide-eyed gaze, the flush creeping up your neck. He could feel the tension between you, thick and electric, like the air before a storm. His hand slid up your back, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. Gently, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Just a kiss,” he repeated, his voice a low rasp. “Nothing more?” 

“Ignorant knight,” you whispered out once, laughing.

“Is that still what you want?” he asked again desperately. His heart hammered in his chest so hard it made him dizzy. His eyes traced over your face over and over again. 

“Oh, Shadowsinger,” you muttered, shaking your head in amusement. You reached up and cupped his face in your palms. “Why won’t you kiss me?” You reached up on your tiptoes before slowly connecting your lips. 

Azriel had been struck by lightning. Every nerve ending in his body came alive, sending sparks of pleasure through him. He stood frozen for a heartbeat, scarcely able to believe what was happening. Then, with a low groan, he melted into the kiss. His hand came to cup your face tenderly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss. He poured all his pent-up longing and affection into it, trying to convey without words just how much you mean to him.

From the sheer intensity of it, your knees weakened under you, but Azriel quickly wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you securely against his chest. You tilted your head and it felt like a dream. But he didn’t need to wake up because you were real. You were there, loving him fully and kissing him sweetly.

Azriel laid in bed, body and wings curled around the smaller form. His eyes blinked slowly, gazing down reverently at the infant. The baby had small wings that were almost exact to Azriel’s own. They had made the birth difficult and Azriel had been about ready to break down the door when he heard your screams. He hadn’t been allowed in the room, even though you had begged for him. Your cries had brought him to his knees and replaced the nightmares about his past missions with ones of your sobs.

Nevertheless, you had accomplished the horrible feat and Azriel had rushed into the room. He had first checked up on you, hands and anxieties flying about, kisses being placed on the skin that he could reach. Then he saw his little son, whom he now held in his arms. 

You had recuperated over the months, but it never got old to Azriel to hold his child. It never got old to hold you either. The moment he had gotten his child in his arms, so unbelievably worried about doing harm to him as he had done harm to so many others in his past, Azriel had asked for another. 

You had almost thrown him out of the room.

That first night, Azriel had held both you and child close to his bare chest, for the midwives had said that skin-to-skin contact was best. For the next few weeks, Azriel hardly put on a shirt (which you didn’t complain about), so it got normal to see the ex-knight pressing his son against his chest as he walked around the castle, as if giving the newborn a tour. The baby’s head fit perfectly in Azriel’s palm and more often than not, he would look up at his father with wide eyes that were so much like his mother’s, reaching out to grab at Azriel’s chin or wings.

The Shadowsinger had yet to be thrust into the life of King, for your parents hadn’t passed on, but for that he was grateful. It gave him more time to spend with his wife and child.

There was the creak of a floorboard and Azriel looked up to see you entering your shared bedroom. A smile instantly broke out on his face. “There’s my wife,” he murmured, reaching out with his hand that was adorned by the perfect ring. Its twin sat on your own finger. “My princess.” The words had such a sweeter connotation now.

“Husband,” you replied, having yet to get used to that word. You took his hand, and with a smile of your own, crawled into bed next to your son. “How are my two favorite Shadowsingers doing?”

“Oh, he shall not need that title,” Azriel hummed. “It’s much too dangerous for our little boy.”

“And what would you rather propose?”

Azriel gazed down at the small child, a hand ghosting over the boy’s thick patch of dark hair. “That’s for him to decide,” he finally said. “He will be able to make his own name and title and we will love him whichever path he chooses.”

After some blissful moments passed, you allowed some words to tumble from your mouth. “Are you happy, my love?”

“Of course.” He looked up at you, concerned eyes snapping away from the babe. “Why do you ask? Do you doubt my love for you?”

You shook your head, smiling. Your voice was quiet, worried about stepping over a line. But if almost two years of marriage had taught you anything about Azriel, it was that he never held secrets from you. “No, never. I just remember how, before we were wed, you were certain that everybody pitied you. I was wondering, do you still think they do?” 

“No,” your husband replied, eyes soft as he looked over at you. “Why would they? My entire world is here with me now. I hardly need anything else.”

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first ACOTAR fic so I hope I did Azriel justice. 😊 I wanna thank @pellucid-constellations for writing amazing Azriel fics and getting me into ACOTAR in the first place and just being amazing. (Also @illyrianbitch for posting today and giving me the excitement to post for Az) 😁

[hotteokyu]

who are you, who am I

Synopsis ~ No words. No sight. No thoughts. You grew here in this cell, alone. You realize there’s a person on the other side of the cell wall when you hear his cries. You can’t speak. You can’t see. You can’t touch. But he becomes your closest friend. Closer than the silence of the cell. Until that silence is disturbed. And you need more than his soft voice. You need to escape. You need him.

Pairing ~ prisoner!yunho x prisoner!reader

Word count ~ 13.8k

Genre / warnings ~ explicit sexual content MINORS DNI, romance, prisoners, cells, handcuffed, muzzle, blindfolded, mention of forced pregnancy, cult-like implications, stripped for an audience, non-consensual touching at times, a bit disturbing, kind of a roller coaster, murder, blood, cursing, forbidden love, fight for love, yunho's an idol, yunho not referred to by name for most of it, petnames: puppy / princess / baby / etc., desperate touching, desperate love, masturbation, shower sex, oral sex (male recieving), kissing, grinding, rough sex, crying, comfort

a/n ~ tell me what you think ;p

     There’s a person on the other side of the wall. 

     Tied up with thick cuffs, a tight muzzle around your mouth, dark cloth over your eyes. You see the wall with your hands as you roam your cell when master goes away. 

     The lonely, timeless days and nights are all the same, except now you have a friend. 

     He’s silly. When he wants to say hello, he taps the wall in a cute way, tap tip-tip tap tap. 

     He enjoys your company too, becoming comfortably silent as you hum him a song. Your lips can’t move because of the muzzle, so all you’ve ever confessed to him are your songs. 

     He sings for you too, and you love his voice. It’s low, and, if you press close enough to the wall, you can feel its vibrations. 

     You call him puppy in your head because whenever you want to play with him, you hear him eagerly scrambling to get to the wall, just like a little puppy. 

     You wonder what your puppy looks like. You wonder why master keeps him. You wonder if he wonders the same things about you. 

     But today is exciting. Today is a shower day. You’re not sure how often master lets you shower, but you haven’t gone out since you first noticed your new friend. You can hardly sleep, you’re so excited. 

     This could be your chance to see him. 

       The guard comes just as the black of your blindfold starts turning to a dark gray. He guides you with a padded arm out of your cell. You know the exact placement of every crevice in the cell relative to you. You stub your foot into the side of the entrance as he guides you out. You fall to the ground with a harsh slam. The concrete isn’t kind to your skin, and you feel your blood trickle onto the ground nicely. 

     The guard curses and grabs your scraped arm, pulling you to stand. He’s impatient, the tight schedule of the dungeon pulling his mind toward careless rushing. 

     He guides you again, whispering to himself in annoyance, and you stumble over his foot, almost crashing to the ground again. 

     “Fuck!” he growls. “Why do you need this stupid fucking blindfold anyway?!” He’s whispering but screaming in frustration, spitting into the air as his hand yanks the blindfold from your eyes. 

     And suddenly the light is blinding you for the first time in forever. 

     “Don’t tell anyone, bitch,” the guard spits, and you nod, blinking rapidly as he urges you to move again. 

     You go right, eyeing the next cell. Its glass is squeaky clean. He’s new, just like you thought. As you walk, slowly, stumbling in pain, you look closely into the cell, and, finally, you see him there. 

     Your puppy. 

     He’s big, hands tied up on his bed and black prisoner rags baggy on his figure. His muzzle matches yours, by what you’ve gathered from feeling it, desperately scratching to get it off. His head lays sleepily and sadly on the mattress, and his hair is a dark brown, nearly black, wavy as it falls into his eyes. And his eyes… aren’t covered like yours should be. They’re wide, and beautiful, and gazing right at you. Your puppy nearly jumps from his bed, his pupils trembling, but you slowly shake your head, and he freezes. 

     You love your puppy even more now, innocent and adorable as he begs you with his eyes to stay in his view. But the only thing you can give him is a squint of your eyes to show your attempt at a soft smile. 

     And then you turn the corner, and he’s gone. 

     You shut your eyes tight, facing straight forward as the guard guides you, though you know the route by heart. When you stop, it’s not at the showers, and when the guard suddenly hits the floor, you know he’s dead. 

     “My, look at you.” Master’s voice is chilling, but you’ve grown numb to it over time. He likes to talk, for you can do nothing but listen. “My favorite girl knows how to act,” he praises. The blindfold, lying uselessly around your neck, is yanked back over your eyes. “She knows that if she opens her eyes, she’ll be killed.” He pats your shoulder, stroking it lightly with his thumb, and you press your lips together tightly, the uncomfortable damp warmth of his skin making a quick gag approaching their seal. You feel his breath beside your ear, a thick string of drool between his teeth as he stretches his lips with his words. “I might have to reward her.”

       The shower never felt so rewarding as it does after having that creature lay his hand on you. You can hear his slime slick from his skin to the floor as he moves. As the cold water spills over your shoulders, you sigh, feeling it all melt away as if it’s steaming. 

     The water slides down your bare body, one you’ve never seen, its form unfamiliar to you, as you haven’t known yourself since being a little girl. You feel the metal of the belt around your hips. You don’t know why they cover your genitals with this belt, but it makes cleaning very difficult. 

     But now, alone where no one but the stream can see you, you could grin if not for the muzzle restricting your lips. Your mind keeps straying to his face, one you’ve, since you first heard his gentle cry from the other side of that wall, dreamed of seeing. You were able to witness for a split second. And you’re addicted.

As soon as you’re put back in your cage and the clacks of the guard’s shoes leave the hallway, your puppy scrambles to the wall. He hums softly but eagerly, quietly so that no one knows, but loud enough for you to know it's desperate. He whines softly until you hum back. You can imagine him now, head resting against the wall, hair dragging softly along its surface as he stares into the concrete as if he might see you. He wants to see you again, you can feel it in the whimpers as he scrapes against the wall. You want to see him again, too. But that desire can’t overtake you. You’ve lived here, grown here in this dungeon. You know patience is the only way you can even have the privilege of thinking about getting what you want. 

     For now, you close your eyes and think of your beautiful puppy’s face. You drift to sleep like that, listening to his soft, even breaths. 

     When you awake, the blindfold is pitch black. The dungeon is silent except for your puppy’s breath. It isn’t even or calm. He must be having a bad dream. He’s panting, soft, muffled whimpers reaching your ears. You sit up, your brows furrowing. Something isn’t right. There’s a new sound, one you’ve never heard before, from his side of the wall. Something slow and wet rubbing together. Could it be that the poor puppy was so scared in his sleep that he had an accident?

     “Mm?” you call out softly, and he gasps. The noise stops instantly, and he goes silent. You hum again, quietly, with pure concern, and he whimpers, almost guiltily. 

     No, it’s okay, puppy, you’re not in trouble. 

     But then the sound continues, and he lets out a shaky breath. You smell something sweet in the air, something warm and new. Your eyes grow wide as it all clicks suddenly. Looking down at your hands tied in front of you, your mind wanders quickly to what he might be doing just a few inches away from you. He’s panting now, his breaths vocal and soft and desperate. He’s trying to hold his voice back, his nose working hard but failing to breathe. You hear him squirm against the concrete, and you can imagine it vividly, having seen him with your own eyes. And he’s beautiful, pleasuring himself. His voice, higher than its usual low, soothing tone, needy and shameless. His body, thin yet large, clinging to the wall as he bends his tied arms uncomfortably just to make himself feel good. It’s wet. It’s so wet. He’s leaking all over himself, his precum lubing himself as he goes faster and faster. 

     Puppy has never acted like this before. Why is he suddenly so desperate? And why is just hearing him like this making you so dazed?

     His breath grows heavier, his movements desperate, his rhythm lost until it suddenly stops, and his voice disappears, the wet slide of his hand going slow until it stops completely, and he’s able to catch his breath. 

     You sigh, leaning your head against the wall. He had all that fun without you and expects you to be patient with your plan? How are you not supposed to rush to see him?

     You sleep on your bed for the rest of the night. He deserves to sleep alone after making everything so much more difficult for you. You could scream into your pillow. You need more than just hums and songs through the wall. You need to be with him. 

       Master comes to visit you more often these days. He never comes inside, and you’re grateful. He just talks to you, tells you about his problems. It’s good that he’s warming up to you, that you’re his favorite. You want something from him. 

     On the seventh time he comes to visit, you come up close to the glass and put your hand against it.

     “What is it, girl?” he asks, coming closer. You can hear his breath near your face, but you force yourself to stay there. You slowly reach with your hands and grasp your muzzle, tilting your head with furrowed, pleading brows. Then, you touch the glass again, right where his breath sounds. He hums. “Now, what could my little girl possibly need her mouth for?” But, of course, you can’t tell him. You sit there, pleading with your grip on the glass, until he sighs. “I suppose she could keep me company.” 

     That night, when the blindfold starts to grow darker, the muzzle is unlatched from your jaw. Your face aches and trembles as you stretch your lips for the first time in years. It hurts, but it’s so amazing, finally having your jaw free. Finally, you can start your escape. 

     Master doesn’t come back for a while. He said he will be busy, but you should reteach yourself to speak properly for when he returns. You will. You’ll talk all night long, all day, all week, forever to your wall. For your master, of course. 

     Puppy knocks quietly on the wall, and you’re the one who scrambles to meet him there in excitement. He’ll be so happy. He’ll want to escape with you. He’ll help you, and you can get out of here. And you’ll be together.

     Your breath trembles as you gaze at the black of the cloth, sitting on the cold floor in your tightly bound clothing, staring toward the wall. He’s silent. He must have heard everything. He listens well when you have visitors. He must know that he’ll finally be able to hear you speak to him. 

     “I…” Your voice is soft, only for his ears. “I’m Y/n.” He hums happily. Maybe he likes your name. “Do you know… you’re so pretty?” you ask, knowing he can’t answer. He’s quiet, and you can imagine the soft blush on his cheeks. “I’ve been alone for years. You’re my only friend. All I want is to see you again. You’re so pretty…” You lean your head against the wall, wishing it wasn’t there more than ever. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

     “Mhm!” he immediately responds, and you can’t stop the wide smile that you can finally make without close restrictions.

     “Is that why you were so worked up? The time you saw me?” He goes quiet, even his little excited breaths disappearing for a moment. 

     “Mhm…” He’s quiet, embarrassed. 

     Your face starts to heat up, as if you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “It’s not fair,” you whisper, “that you get to touch yourself when I can’t.” He huffs, a soft laugh echoing throughout the cells. “Is that funny?” you scoff, but he just continues his gentle laugh until you can’t help but smile too, tilting your head in disbelief.

     You lay and talk to him for hours. Or forever. You can’t keep track of time, but the cloth grows grey, and you’re still talking. He’s so engaging, in all ways that he can be. You tell him stories of your life before coming here and even funny things you’ve encountered in the cell. You ask him how the world has changed, and he’s mostly responded no to your guesses. 

     “But who are you,” you sigh, laying on your back, staring at the ceiling through the thick mask over your eyes. “What’s your name? I want to know so bad.” He sighs. “How old are you? Why are you here? What was your life like?” But he can’t answer. “For now, you’ll just be my friend.”

       “My girl, your voice is as pretty as ever. You’re almost fully developed, I can see. Soon, we’ll put you on display for the elders.” Master takes your hands in his, clasping them harshly, and you fight the urge to pull away. “Since the elders would love you even more with those lips of yours bound up, I’ll let you have them out until they see you.” You force a soft smile. 

     “Thank you,” you whisper, “Master.”

     “Oh, that sounds nice,” he coos. “Is that what you call me in that tiny head of yours?” You nod. “How obedient.”

     “I want to be good for you.” 

     He sighs with a soft chuckle. “I knew you were special since you were just a little girl. Now, look at you.”

     Fuck, you’re going to throw up. No, no, hold it in.

     “Thank you for looking after me, Master,” you say, keeping the smile plastered on your lips.

     He sighs before moving away from you. “Prepare her carefully over the next few days. Make her perfect. By Sunday, I want her in the tank.”

     Your eyes grow wide in both horror and relief. This is it. 

     “Thank you, Master,” You say, and his hand taps your cheek.

     “Enjoy your voice, girl. It’ll be gone again soon.”

      “Puppy, don’t be scared,” you whisper through the wall. He’s breathing heavily, soft, suppressed sobs escaping his lips. “Shhh… It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you no matter what.”

     “Mhm,” he whimpers. “Mhm. Mhm…” His voice is breaking. He’s crying, and yet you can’t reach out and wipe the tears from his cheeks. Your fists clench, bound together uselessly. 

     “I won’t go anywhere without you,” you whisper.

     The footsteps echoing through the hall don’t belong to a guard or master. It’s someone new.

     “I’ll come back for you no matter what.”

     “L/n. Please come with me.” It’s a lady. She has a soft voice, but she raises it knowingly to something commanding yet comforting. She won’t hurt you. She’s simply following orders. No malice. No evil. You get up, staring at the wall as if you could see it or your puppy sitting with wide, tear filled eyes, desperately trying to be silent. 

     You follow her. No need for a guide. When she sits you down in a cushioned chair, she slowly removes the blindfold from your eyes. The room is dimly lit, as they understand you haven’t used your eyes in years. You keep them closed. 

     “Open your eyes,” she says, and you do. “Look straight ahead. Do not let them stray.” You do. 

     In front of you is a TV. You saw them in your home when you were younger before the day you were sold away. It’s a small box, showcasing an auditorium. You’ve only ever seen one of those once when you went to a theater with your mother. The audience on the TV is filled with old people, both men and women. They’re watching the stage, but you can’t see what exactly it is. The camera is on the stage, it seems. 

     “Have you seen their faces before?” the lady asks, and you stare harder at the screen. Glancing from face to face, you come to realize, you know only one. You nod. “Which one?”

     “Right side. Third row. Seven seats in.”

     She writes it down. 

     “Any others?”

     “No.”

     “And who is that lady then? Whom you recognize?” 

     She’s old, but, of course, anyone would recognize her if they were you. You dreamed about her face every night or whenever sleep would grace you. You dreamed about what you would do to her if you ever saw her again. Old, wrinkly, and ugly, but surely her…

     “My mother.”

     She writes it down. 

     “How many years have passed,” you ask curiously. You can’t take your eyes off of her. Senses unbound completely, your expression contorts into something small and furious, “since the day I came here.”

     “Don’t scrunch your face,” she says, and you stop. “We’ve worked hard preserving your features. Don’t ruin it, or he’ll kill you for being useless.”

     Your brow twitches at the new information. Preserving your features? That makes sense. In your muzzle and blindfold, you could hardly move your face, your smiles stiff and restrained, features moving but hardly without great pain. 

     “Will I get to meet her again?” you ask, and she writes silently, the scribbles of the pencil filling the room as you watch the old people on the screen, frustration filling you.

     “You’ll know soon enough.” She senses your body heat rising quickly. “Be patient.”

     Right, she’s right. Patience.

     “She’ll be rewarded greatly for her sacrifice,” she says.

     “Who are the elders? Them?” you question, but she doesn’t answer.  

     “Tomorrow, you’ll be groomed and then put in a new cell so you look perfect for Sunday.”

     “What day is it today?” you ask, a sudden rush of concern hitting you. Do you only have a day to figure everything out?

     “Return her to her cell.”

     No. No, that’s not enough time. You thought you had more time. You can’t figure everything out in a day. If you’re taken away… you won’t get to escape. It’ll be over. You can’t do it. You can’t figure it out.

     Rough hands cover your features with your muzzle and blindfold, and everything is once again locked away.

       Your cell is silent until it’s not. The guard has left, but there’s a body looming over you. Your eyes are wide, your lips quivering. They smell familiar, and the trembling breath is something you know well, but it’s not possible. It isn’t until soft, trembling hands scratch at your blindfold that you see him. His forehead is pressed against yours, his body pushing you into the wall. His brows are pinched as he desperately gazes from one eye to the other. Puppy.

     His whimpers would meet your lips if not for the muzzles surrounding our mouths. He’s surrounding you completely, much bigger, much stronger than you, but he doesn’t even realize it, trying to be closer and closer to you. Though your hands are bound, he wants to touch you, sitting between your legs as he brings your bodies as close as possible. 

     You’re confused, and concerned, and overwhelmed, but the happiness of seeing your puppy right here in front of you overshadows all of those feelings. Tears are dripping from his eyes, maybe from bliss or worry. It’s so beautiful. 

     You lean closer, letting your head fall to his shoulder. His whimpers meet your ear, his soft breaths matching your own. 

     You look around and immediately spot the hole in the corner of your cell. Fuck, if anyone finds that, you’re both dead. You’ll cover it with your bed. It makes you laugh, just how small the hole is compared to your big puppy. He must have been so desperate to see you, squeezing in any way he could. 

     And then your laugh fades, and a tear drips from your eye. 

     It’ll be okay. 

     You push him away gently, and even so he’s reluctant. It takes a soft, reassuring hum to get him to move away. His eyes are so pretty, big and bloodshot, just for you to gaze into. You slowly close your eyes, and he pulls the blindfold over them once again. Then he’s gone, the soft scrape of your bed against the concrete sealing him into his side of the wall. 

It’ll be okay. 

You’re stripped almost completely, the only things left being the cuffs around your wrists, the chastity belt, and the muzzle around your jaw. A body once bound tightly by clothing is now bare. Your youthful features are perfect in their eyes. They’ve done a phenomenal job preserving them. To you, they’re unfamiliar. Ugly. Not your own. The only thing familiar to you which you want at all is your puppy. The compliments they give you as you walk down the halls, eyes unbound but closed, are disgusting, if anything, but meaningless. You become deaf for the first time in years. Your only sense has always been your hearing, but now you forget that too. You are nothing for the long minutes walking mindlessly down the hall, hands tied to a man, tied to Master, tied to the audience that you will be presented to. 

     When you open your eyes again, the tank is here. It’s on the stage which was blocked on the TV. It’s full of clear liquid, but it must not be water. Its surface doesn’t dare move. It’s thick, almost solid. The final preservation. 

     “Ladies and gentlemen!” Master has never raised his voice to such an extent before. It’s always been quiet and broken, just for your ears. Now, he speaks to hundreds, if not thousands of elders much like him. “Our latest graduate! Her visuals are phenomenal, voice like a siren, and obedient like the perfect woman!” The room erupts in a quick laughter. “We’ve grown her from a young girl to a beautiful adult, donated by one amongst you! Please take a close look! She’s a beauty!” 

     You’re urged forward, your feet stumbling momentarily until you’re brought under a blinding spotlight. You can’t see the audience anymore, only imagine the faces some of them would make as he described you. Tongues darting out, wrinkly, cracked lips wetted, smirks, trembles as they said something to the person beside them. The years locked in your cell, you could never even guess as to why you were locked away. You still have no idea what’s happening, but if you had known your eyes would adjust to this light and see those faces, staring at you, drooling at you, bare in front of them, you would have risked it all to run away. Fuck patience. 

     Now your master’s slimy, clammy hands are pushing you toward that tank. And you can say nothing. Do nothing but look. Hands and mouth bound, you can do nothing but look.

     The liquid is thick. You’ve only ever touched water, so what could this possibly be? It’s sticky, drawing you inside slowly and carefully. To your legs. To your hips. Your body trembles, cold, terrified. 

     “This graduate is simply too perfect to sell,” Master explains to the audience, gently stroking your hair. You almost give in and push him away. “But, if we have one perfect girl, why not twenty more? Why not fifty?!” He laughs, and everyone follows along. “I’m sure you’ve read all about our new technology! It’s revolutionary! This fluid preserves her youthful features both externally and internally. Her eggs won’t die with age. She can produce to her full capability while frozen in the tank! Isn’t it wonderful?”

     You can hear your heart over the oohs and aahs of the creatures in the crowd. It’s loud and fast yet not fast enough to support your churning mind. Should you kill yourself right now? That thought enters twice for every three thoughts of escape entering your mind. You really should. You should just kill yourself before your body enters this fluid completely. 

     It’s up to your chest, your arms frozen practically solid already. You’re gone. You’re done. You can’t even end your life. This is your ending. 

     It’s to your neck. Your heartbeat is gone from your ears, from your chest, but it continues on. It’s odd. It’s frozen, but you move slowly into it. It stops all functions, but all of your senses are enhanced within its cold envelope. It seeps into the muzzle, filling what little space is creviced in its metal to your lips to your jaw. You can’t breathe, but somehow the fluid breathes for you, air entering and exiting your lungs at a steady rhythm. Your ears. You can’t hear any longer, as if you could before. As if everything hadn’t gone numb the second you learned the truth. The second you saw the tank. The audience. Your eyes are too late to close as they’re submerged in the fluid. They won’t close. They won’t flutter. They look out into the audience, wide and unrestricted. Finally, you can see. Forever you’ll see. This is what you’ll see. The top of your head is overtaken by the fluid, and the tank closes. Everything is silent. Everything is numb. Everything is fucking over. 

     And you have to watch it all happen.

     Master comes around the front of the tank holding a tube of sorts. He opens a little door on the front of the tank and reaches into the fluid. Nothing spills out. It stays obediently still. He reaches the tube toward your chastity belt, but freezes, his eyes darting to the tank. Through the tank. He looks terrified, eyes bulging from their sockets. He drops the tube, desperately tugging at his arm to free it from the fluid. He turns to run, but a hand grabs his hair and slams him to the ground. You would start sobbing at the sight. Puppy, livid, veins bulging from his arms to his neck to his face. He raises his arms high, and when he slams them down, an axe splits Master’s head from his neck. The blood sprays over the glass of the tank, covering it completely. You hear a muffled slam and then the entirety of the glass shatters all at once. It collapses around you, but the fluid stays all the same. You see him, panting, painted red, glaring at you as he grips the axe, now snapped in two. 

     When he finally drops it, his brows soften, his veins pulsing but calming as he reaches out. His hands rush through the fluid, faster than they should be able to. He grabs you, and he pulls you to him until only the remnants of the fluid touch your skin, and you’re held tightly in his arms. You fall limp, the coating of the fluid preventing you from being able to move much. Even if you could, you might’ve just let your puppy take you away, leaning your cheek against his chest. The hallway, as he runs from the stage, is covered in blood from the floor to the ceiling. You close your eyes, feeling his hold on you tighten the further he travels and the bloodier the stench and the sight becomes. Until you hear something you haven’t heard in years. 

     Birds. 

     Trees. 

     Wind.

     Him. 

     You let your eyes look up into the sky. It’s so blue. Who knew something could be so blue?

     You recognize the glass box, the phone, the city. It’s timeless, unchanging from what you remember. It’s familiar. How nice. Puppy sets you down, and you lean weakly against the glass. He strips his shirt from his skin and quickly fumbles it over your head. What was tight on him is huge on you, covering you from your shoulders to your thighs. His chest is bare, but he doesn’t care.

     He works quickly on your cuffs. They’re practically unbreakable. Night after night, you would desperately rub them and scratch them and bang them however you could, but they were unbreakable. He snapped them in two, the metal falling to your lap uselessly. Your hands tremble as they reach out… uncuffed. His eyes look from one to the other as your hands cup his cheeks, fingers wrapping around the latch to his muzzle. It’s much like yours, only bigger. With a few motions, it too was gone, and you could see his pretty features completely. He was adorable, soft, newly abused lips perfect and plump, trembling as he paws at your own muzzle. He must not know how to take it off. His lips form a gentle scowl in frustration as he grips and pulls at it. You let him struggle for a while, smiling softly. How nice this feels… to be wanted so desperately. To be loved so thoroughly. 

     “Y/n,” he whimpers, and your eyes twitch, tears just touching the surface at the simple sound, so low, so pretty from his voice. “Help me, please,” he whispers. 

     You cover his hands with your own, and he leans his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed as you slowly unlatch your muzzle. You set it aside and run your fingers through his hair, pulling his head just a bit closer. His breath trembles against your lips, so comforting as you start to shiver in the cool breeze. 

     “What’s your name?” you whisper, and his eyes flutter open.

     “Yunho,” he answers, gazing at your lips as they form a gentle smile. 

     “Yunho,” you repeat. “Yunho. Yunho is pretty too. So pretty.”

     “You lied to me, Y/n,” he whispers, and your smile fades. He’s hurt. “You said you would come back no matter what, but you didn’t.” His jaw clenches, and your lip trembles as you slowly slide your hands from his hair. 

     “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, Yunho, I-”

     He grabs your hands and keeps them there, stopping their retreat. He shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, Y/n, I came for you. I wanted to promise you that I would and- and I wanted to help you, but I couldn’t say anything, but now I can. I would have followed you even if you never came back.” He nods, gazing into your wide, tear-filled eyes. “Just don’t go, please. Please, don’t go. Stay here, a-nd we’ll get help, and we’ll be o-okay.” 

     You nod immediately, and his hands slowly slip from yours, a soft sigh leaving his lips. 

     He looks away, a deep blush on his blood-splattered cheeks. “Thank you,” he mumbles, a small, relieved smile shyly spreading on his lips.

     The change piled on the phone, a kind gesture by the locals, trembles as he picks them up one by one. He takes a shaky breath as he finally brings the phone to his ear. It clicks softly as the other person picks up. “Hyung…”

  You wait in an alleyway. It’s dark, the only light flickering above your heads. You’re tucked close together, your face nuzzled into the side of his neck. It’s freezing, but you have nothing but the heat of your bodies to keep you warm. His friend is coming quickly, but it’s been an hour at least. You’re both shivering, breathing the same air, holding each other close. Until the alley lights up, and a car screeches to a halt a bit away. You both glance up, eyes wide and hopeful. 

     “Yunho!” a man shouts, stumbling out of the car. He rushes over to you as Yunho slowly helps you to your feet.      

     “Yunho, I’m gonna kill you!” another man, a lighter voice, screams as he jumps out of the other side. 

     They both run, tears streaming down their cheeks as they collide with their friend. Yunho stumbles against the wall. The tinier one holds him so tightly, placing kisses all over his face as he sobs. The taller one’s eyes are wide, wiping the blood from Yunho’s cheeks, bombarding him with questions. 

     Yunho holds you close against him, unforgotten, even as they don’t even notice you at first. 

     “Get in the car quickly,” the taller one urges, pushing the both of you gently toward the vehicle. “What’s your name, sweety?” he asks, voice low and comforting to your frozen ears. 

     “Y/n,” you say, voice trembling. 

     “I’m Seonghwa,” he says softly. “This is Wooyoung.” He asks you no questions, and you’re so grateful. You just want to be warm. 

     The car is so toasty, the seats a heater themselves as you sit in its sanctuary. You want to melt into them, hardly registering as Wooyoung buckles you in before quickly getting into the front seat. You close your eyes, sighing in relief. Finally, out of the cold, out of danger, with your puppy. Everything is alright. 

     “Yunho,” Seonghwa’s deep voice softly begins, “what happened?”

     He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, taking a slow breath. “I woke up in a cell,” he says, and your heart aches. So they take everyone in their sleep. “They put a muzzle on me a-nd cuffed my hands.” He bites his lip. “And they gave me shots every day.”

     “What the fuck?!” Wooyoung shouts, turning back in horror. “They fucking drugged you?! What were they for?! Who the fuck are they?!”

     “I don’t know,” Yunho groans. “But my body feels so weird now.” You watch as he swallows hard. “I get aggressive and weirdly strong sometimes… How long was I gone?” 

     It’s silent for a long moment “About four months,” Seonghwa says. He grips the steering wheel hard, his knuckles growing white. “ATEEZ is on hiatus. Your disappearance became public after the first month.”

     “ATEEZ…?” you mumble to yourself.

     “It’s on the news daily. They haven’t closed the case,” Wooyoung says. “Though they’re close to. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay. We’ll go to the police and call everyone over.”

     Yunho has such a relieved, happy smile on his face, lightening his features so nicely. He’s leaning his head on the seat, his hand gently touching yours as the car silently drives through the city streets. 

     “How did you and Y/n meet?” Seonghwa asks curiously.

     “She was in the cell next to mine. We couldn’t talk or anything, but we, like, sang or.. hummed to each other… and stuff…” His voice trails off as he looks out the window with a deep blush trailing from the tip of his nose to his ears. 

     “Wow!” Wooyoung’s exasperated sound turns to a loud laugh. “You’re truly an idol, Jeong Yunho!” 

     You gasp, and his face turns deeper into the window. “You’re an idol?”

     He nods. 

     You’re about to freak out, but Wooyoung changes the topic quickly. 

     “By the way, Y/n, what uh.. are you covered in? Like, what is all that?” 

     You look down at your bare arms and almost gag at the dried, sticky goo all over your skin. You forgot all about it. 

     “I wish I knew,” you mumble. 

     “Hyung, can you take us to the dorms first? So we can get clothes and showers please,” Yunho asks, and Seonghwa nods through the mirror, smiling sweetly. 

       “Should I call a manager?” Seonghwa asks as Yunho guides you through the apartment. “Does she need he-?”

     “No,” he interrupts, and you all wince, pausing at the bite in the word. His expression is scrunched, stern, mean, but it softens quickly. “No, we’ll be okay, Hyung, thank you.”

     “We’ll pick you up in the mor-!”

     The door was closed before you could even register being dragged gently into a room. Yunho’s breath is a bit uneven. Is he feeling sick? Maybe overwhelmed? He’s looking around the room a bit frantically. Everything is nice and clean, you note. Maybe his friends… or members took care of the room while he was gone. Yunho brings you to his bed and sits you down with a reassuring smile, but it twitches softly. 

     “Yunho,” you mumble, and he pauses to gaze into your confused eyes. “Are you okay?”

     He nods. “I’m okay,” he says softly. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

     He starts to walk away, but you reach out and take hold of his fingers, and he stops. “Where are you going?” you ask, gazing shyly at him. He lets a giddy smile stretch his lips. 

     “I’m going to start the shower,” he says, and you hesitantly let go of him. “You can wash first, but wait here while I get it ready.”

     “Will…” you swallow hard, staring down at your sticky hands with flushed cheeks. “Will you go with me?” His eyes are hooded, gazing at you as you tug at his shirt draped over you. “I need help getting it all off of me, and…” You lift the shirt just enough for the metal of the belt to peak out.

     “Of course, I’ll go with you,” he breathes, staring at what you’ve exposed with a heavy breath. He gently tilts your chin, his thin eyes gazing at your plump lips as he runs his thumb over them gently. He bends down, his warm breath meeting yours. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away suddenly and bringing you to your feet. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

     The water fills the bathroom with a soft steam, but he makes sure you feel it so it’s not too hot. You’ve never had a warm shower before. You’ve never showered with another person, let alone your favorite person. You already know it’ll be your new favorite thing. 

     Yunho strips behind you as you’re testing the water with your hand. You hear his clothes drop to the floor, but you don’t turn around, until his fingers are tugging lightly at the shirt on your shoulders.

     “Do you want to keep this on for now, Y/n?” he asks, and you shiver at the low sound of his voice as he says your name. It’s sensual, weirdly erotic, even though it’s just your name. You shake your head. “You don’t have to take it off. We can clean you with it on.” 

     “No,” you mumble, turning around to face him. You keep your gaze high, watching his gentle eyes with flushed cheeks. His ears are red, the tips so bright. “You can take it off.” His eyes twitch as they lower to the top. They seem to be growing less big, less shy, and a little darker.

     His fingers slip under the shirt, grazing your skin. It’s soft in some places, sticky in others. You can’t wait to feel him against you once you're clean and untarnished from that place. You want him to rewrite everything with his hands. Make you forget. Make you his own. 

     He slides them higher, and you slowly lift your arms with his subtle command. The shirt falls to the floor, and he groans softly as he gazes at your chest, your nipples erect from the sudden chill. 

     He guides you quickly into the shower, and the warm stream feels like heaven on your shivering skin. You’re covered in little bumps as you try to drown every inch of your body in its warmth. Yunho watches as you sigh under the water, loving how it slips from your hair to your shoulders to your hands. Every part of you is beautiful. He wants to feel every inch, every crevice. He just needs that fucking metal torn from your hips first. But he can be patient. If he breaks it now, he won’t be able to control himself. 

     So, as he joins you under the stream, he distracts his thoughts with your happy little smile, indulging himself with his own. You’re soaked, and he can’t help but gently push your dripping hair from your forehead, revealing your squinted, pretty eyes, big and shining just for him. 

     “It’s gonna feel so good once you’re all soft and fluffy,” he says. The goo from the tank is softening and melting in the water. You let Yunho scrub you softly, your hair first, making it smooth and clean, your arms next. He’s focused, cleaning every speck thoroughly until your skin is perfect. Your legs are next, from your thighs to your feet, he kisses softly as he cleans, and it sends little jolts of flutters to your stomach… and to your core. You keep your eyes locked on his hair as it rubs against your clean skin slowly with his careful motions. He turns you around, and your eyes meet the tiled wall. He gently moves your hair as he cleans your back. It feels so nice, therapeutic, and it’s making you relaxed, as if he could take care of you forever, and you would entrust yourself completely to him. 

     “Here, love,” he whispers, handing you the loofah. “Do you want to clean your front?” 

     You blush as you gaze down at your breasts. They would fit so nicely in his hands, the soft scratch of the loofah teasing your nipples. Your eyes grow wide as you quickly shake away your thoughts.

     “Would you feel more comfortable?”

     You could melt at the warmth of his heart. He’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever know. 

     “No,” you breathe, slowly taking his hand and guiding it to your chest. “I need your help here too,” you whisper.

     A soft chuckle meets your ear, and you shiver as his arms wrap around you, pulling your back to his chest. “Is that right?” he hums, gently caressing your skin just under your breasts. 

     He runs the loofah over your nipples, and you bite your lip at the soft scratch. You watch as his thumb gently rubs the soap into your chest, squishing the flesh just barely, teasing both you and him as he watches every twitch of your body. He cleans your stomach, his fingers swiping lightly at the edge of the belt, and you whine. 

     “Does my princess need help here too?” he asks, and your heart flutters at the name. You nod, biting your lip hard as you watch his long fingers drape over your stomach. They cover you completely, and you practically whimper at the sight alone. “Hmm?” he hums, and you nod again. “Come on, Y/n,” he whispers, his fingers sliding between your breasts to your throat, just gently, just barely wrapping around you there. You tremble, not in fear, but in bliss. They’re hot and smooth against you, dangerous yet perfectly safe as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw. “What does my princess need?”

     “Here,” you gasp, grasping the belt. It doesn’t budge, the lock clattering against you as you hold it tightly. “Please, I need it off. I need you h-here, Yunho…”

     “Good girl,” he groans, his hand leaving your throat and grabbing the lock. With a single tug, it's gone, thrown onto the floor, and the belt follows. You feel something hot spill down your thighs, and you can’t tell if it’s the water or the desperate state he has you in, but it doesn’t matter as his fingers dip into your folds, and you melt into his chest, your body trembling as he runs his finger through your heat with a warm breath at your ear. “It’s messy down here,” he hums, his voice low, a soft growl against your skin. “Were you thinking naughty thoughts?” 

     You don’t even try to deny it, nodding as your hands travel up your body, grinding your heat against his hand. 

     “No,” he scolds, taking away all pressure against you as he places your hands at your sides. “We can’t make more of a mess, Y/n,” he warns quietly, caressing your inner thigh with his teasing fingers. You can’t handle all of his teasing, though. You’re biting your lip, your cheeks hot and heat clenching around nothing. 

     “Yunho,” you whimper, “sh-shouldn’t you also clean your body?” His hold slowly loosens on you, and you turn around, gazing at the small smear of blood on his cheek, the scratch on his neck, and the little scratches of red throughout his body. “I’ll help you.”

     You go to take the loofah, but he drops it to the floor, eyes locked on yours. “Use your hands.”

     His skin is already so soft, so perfect, as you rub the soap along his body, from his neck, behind his pink ears, to his shoulders, broad and higher than your eyes. He’s so big, even bigger now as you clean every inch of his skin. Your fingers pass over his chest, and he sighs. You feel his heartbeat, fast like yours, and… you swallow hard as your arm bumps against his hardness, moving quickly along, but he tilts his head, lifting a brow curiously.

     “That’s not very thorough,” he says, and you avoid his gaze as you finish scrubbing his arms, working hard with two hands.

     “Sh-should I help you?” you ask, finally bringing your eyes to meet his. His eyes are hooded, staring at your body as you work so close to him. “Yunho?” He hears you now, bringing his eyes to yours. Your hand slowly travels, soap bubbling along his skin as you gently wrap your fingers around him. He twitches in your hand, his eyes snapping to your touch. “Look how messy it is,” you breathe, your voice trembling as you watch precum bead at the tip. He’s so big, just like the rest of him, your fingers almost touching around its pretty base. You stroke it once, and he bites back a moan as he stops your hand quickly. 

     “Y-”

     “You’re right,” you sigh, removing your hand. The water washes away the soap, and it twitches without your touch, painfully hard now that he had a taste of your touch. “I should be more thorough.”

     You drop to your knees, and he lets out a low growl as he shakes his head. His hand grips your hair quickly, a light sensation as the stream runs down your back. 

     “Look at you,” he huffs, “so eager to please.”

     “I’m just returning the favor,” you mumble, tilting your head as you take his cock in your hand, “puppy.”

     The first fat lick from the base to the tip has him shivering. You think back on the things the guards would talk about in the hallway, learning as you go what feels good for him. You don’t tell him how you learned it all. He might get too jealous, but he seems to love the feeling of your tongue.

     His brows lift as he bites his lip in pleasure. He leans his head against the wall as you put the tip against your lips, offering a soft kiss, gazing up at him to watch each time he loses his control and grips your hair a little tighter, rolls his eyes back slightly, his hips twitching as you slowly take him in your mouth. He’s so heavy on your tongue, but the feeling is so nice. It’s comforting, watching him breathe heavily as your warmth surrounds him. 

     “Princess,” he groans, gently caressing your cheek as he holds you there, halfway on his cock. “This look suits you,” he breathes, “on your knees, stuffed with my cock. Does it taste good, baby?” You hum, and his head falls forward with a low groan. “Make sure i-it’s clean.” He bites his lip, hardly able to speak as he lets you move again, and the soft, warm velvet of your mouth runs along his length perfectly. It’s tight, so fucking tight. He can’t take his eyes off of you as your eyes unfocus, blissed out by the feeling of his cock stuffing your perfect mouth. Your lips are puffy, so cute around him. He can hardly contain his hips as he lets you go at your teasingly slow pace. He wants to fuck your mouth hard, but he absolutely won’t. Fuck, but he wants to. 

     “Can you go faster for me, Y/n?” he mumbles, slowly guiding you down his length. You gag as the tip hits your throat, your warmth constricting around him. It’s uncomfortable, but you want to please him, want to feel him twitching in you, moaning as you pleasure him. “That’s it,” he breathes. “Good job, baby, deeper. Fuck~” He lets out a long moan, blessing your ears as you relax your throat and force your nose to his stomach. “Baby, what a good girl. Fuck… ngh… so g-ood..mm... Keep going… shit..”   

     You go faster, but his grip tightens on your hair, controlling your movement as he starts to meet your mouth halfway. He’s slowly fucking your mouth, suppressing the need to thrust deeper and deeper, pushing you along his cock with each thrust. His voice is getting louder, his thrusts sloppier. He stops.

     “P-princess,” he breathes, slowly pulling you away by your hair. You suck lightly on his tip as he leaves your lips, and he curses softly, wanting nothing more than to keep you stuffed full. He stops moving as he sees his precum spread over your lips, reaching out and dragging his thumb across them to clean it up. “You keep making a mess,” he mumbles, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking it clean, gazing at you as you grow hotter at the sight. 

     “Why did you make me stop?” you whine, placing your hands on the ground to keep them from touching him again. “You feel so good in me,” you breathe, licking your lips as you stare eagerly at his dripping cock. “And taste s-”

     “Get up,” he growls, and you’re quick to scramble to your feet. “I just want to feel good together,” he admits, pushing you against the wall and stopping the water. The room goes silent, leaving only your heavy pants to be heard. “Once I saw you,” he mumbles, “walk by my cell, all I’ve wanted to do was see you like this. I know it’s so bad of me, but I want to make you feel good. I want to feel good with you.”

     “Me too,” you whimper. “I was so jealous when you felt good without me.” He smiles wide, looking away guiltily.

     His hands gently part your legs, lifting one and bringing his hips close to yours. You feel his cock rub lightly against your folds, and you let out a shaky breath.

     “I’ll make it up to you.”

     You haven’t felt such a raw sensation before, his hardness rubbing against you. The slide is so lewd, sticky and loud, echoing throughout the bathroom. His hand holds his cock against your folds as he thrusts against you. It rubs against your clit, back and forth, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You whimper, clutching his shoulders as he thrusts fast. His grunts are more like low growls with each thrust forward. It feels amazing, your voice hardly suppressed by the hard bite you have on your lip. 

     “You’re so wet,” he groans. “Making a mess when I just cleaned you up.” You whimper, rubbing your pussy against him hard as you feel the pleasure building. Your eyes are shaking, your lips leaving soft kisses against his shoulder, unsure of what else to do to distract yourself from losing your mind in pleasure. “Such a bad girl,” he growls, and you let out a soft sob as he pushes you hard against the wall, your head falling back. He kisses your chin as your head falls limp against the wall with a soft whimper leaving your lips. His teeth graze your skin, sinking down only lightly as his grunts grow to soft moans. He trails his kisses, sloppy and wet, to your neck. His hair tickles your skin, a soft contrast to the deep bite he marks into your neck.

     “Fu-uck~!” you choke, your orgasm approaching fast. This isn’t right. No, no, it’s not enough. “Yunho, please,” you whimper as he kisses away the pain in your skin. “Please, fuck, please put it in.. ngh~”

     He shakes his head. “Don’t say that,” he pants, biting his lip as he keeps his head buried in your neck. “Be good.”

     “Please,” you sob, feeling frustrated tears build quickly. “I need you inside, Yunnie, please, fuck me~ I need it so bad.” He kisses your neck with soft growls leaving his lips with each slide against your pussy. “Please, ngh, please, puppy!” 

     “I d-don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he says softly, biting his lip as he grips your body tight to gain some control over his thoughts. “I’ll m-make love to you nice, but not r-right now. I’ll hurt you.”

     Your mind flickers to the shots he talked about, how they make him feel. Tears fall from your eyes. They’re sad, frustrated, needy. You’re so overwhelmed. You need him to stuff you full. You need him to thrust hard and deep. Fuck, he’s so big. He’d rub so nicely against your walls. You want to feel him lose control. You know he won’t hurt you. Even if he does, you don’t care. 

     “Yunho, fuck me,” you pant, trying to steady your trembling voice. “I can take it. I just need it so bad. P-please, puppy, fuck me.”

     He pulls his head away quickly, dropping your leg as he glares at you, his pupils blown, his eyes heavy and hooded. As he tilts his head you see the veins bulging through his skin, his grip on you trembling as he grits his teeth. “You want me to fuck you?” he asks, voice strained. You nod eagerly. “And you think you can take it?”

     “Yes,” you whine, “I can take it. I promise, I’ll be good. Please~”

     He grabs your arm, pulling you roughly out of the shower. You’re both dripping as he rushes to his bedroom, pushing you onto the bed. He climbs over you, glaring down at you as he spreads your legs wide, sitting between them. His cock is so fucking hard, twitching against your stomach, but he forces your eyes back on his with a rough hand on your chin.

     “Every night I imagined what it would feel like deep inside you,” he growls, his hand pressing down on your stomach lightly. “What your face would look like, how your pussy would clench around me.” He scoffs. “You think that night was the only night?” Your eyes widen a little, a rush of slick wetting your folds as you listen to his every word. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

     Fuck… You whimper, biting your lip hard at the thought. 

     “All I had was your voice, but now…” He licks his lips, looking from your twitching pussy to your flushed cheeks. He gently runs his thumb along your cheek. “You think you can take it?”

     You nod quickly, but your mind is spinning so fucking fast. How dirty. Your puppy is so dirty… Making himself feel good, imagining you every night, while your hands were tied, and all you could do was imagine him, growing needy and desperate without any way to relieve yourself. 

     “Fuck me.”

     He doesn’t move his cock, his fingers plunging deep into your core. You’re wide open, your pussy drooling for him. He groans, his lips twitching into a satisfied smile as he finally lines his cock up to your folds. Without warning, his eyes, so dark, so daring, locked with yours, he thrusts in. It only goes about halfway, but your back arches with a long, pathetic moan. 

     “That’s right,” he pants, pushing further. His hair is wavy and damp in front of his eyes, but they don't look away for a second. They’re desperate to see every little twitch of your features as you take his cock like a good fucking girl. “Is this what you want, Y/n? Can you take it?”

     You nod, feeling hot tears stream down your face as he bottoms out.

     “Hmm?” he hums, rolling his lips just slightly against your quivering hole. You sob, overwhelmed with pleasure as his pelvis grinds against your clit. 

     “Yes, yes, fuuuck, yes, Yunnie, please keep going!” you finally choke out, reaching for his neck and pulling him into a searing kiss. His hips stutter as he carefully starts to move. You suck on his tongue, drinking him as you move desperately against his lips, grinding your hips along with each hesitant thrust. “Faster,” you pant. “More, baby, come one.”

     You pull hard on his hair as his hips slam against yours just once, forcing a moan from your lips. He groans into your mouth, loving your reaction. He moves faster, harder, thrusting into your heat until it's all he can feel. Your lips stop moving, just resting against each other as your eyes roll back, your vision blurry with how harshly your body is used by him. He grabs your hips and slams them against his thrusts, harder and faster, drowning in your moans and whines. He can’t get enough. 

     “Y/n,” he pants, kissing your cheek sloppily as he rolls his hips, rubbing hard against your clit with the new, slower angle. “Fuck, princess, bite me,” he whimpers. “Bite me.”

     He presents you his neck, his moans muffled by the pillow. You’re too far gone to register his words for a while, deep in the drug that he’s feeding you with each delicious thrust. But your kisses to his neck come naturally, and his words register when you hear a pathetic whine from his lips. You graze your teeth against his skin, and his hips stutter, slowing before getting harder and faster, rough but without much rhythm. 

     You bite him hard, and he sobs into the pillow, grabbing your hips and digging his nails into your flesh. You’re loving every fucking sensation, his moans, right beside your blessed ears, his cock pistoning into you, his body draped over you, and his hands gripping your body like there’s nothing else he could ever dream of holding.

     Your orgasm is approaching fast, and you can hardly grasp your mind, just drowning in Yunho. He lifts his head, his moans growing in pitch and volume.

     “I’m so close,” he sobs, and you focus your eyes just enough to see his trembling lips, his flushed cheeks, and his eyes, streaming tears as he thrusts desperately. 

     It makes you cum instantly, your back arching as your walls clench around him hard, creaming on his cock without warning. Your eyes roll back hard, your vision turning white as he whimpers and sobs, releasing thick ropes of his cum deep inside. He rides out both of your highs, your moans and gasps harmonizing in the silent room. You force your eyes to stay open to watch his features blank out in complete bliss, cumming long and hard surrounded by your perfect, soaked pussy. His head falls forward as soon as he stops cumming, his cock twitching sensitively, keeping you stuffed full with his cum. 

     You hold his head to your neck as satisfied tears drip onto the pillow beneath you. His hair is almost dry by now, fluffy against your trembling fingers. He stays there for a long time, sniffling into your neck as you gently stroke his hair, something you’d wanted to do since seeing how pretty and fluffy it was in that cell. 

     He’s holding you so tight, his arms wrapped around you completely, his member still buried inside. He’s sobbing, and you close your eyes tight, holding him just as close, not saying a word until he can cry properly, like he deserves. 

     “You’re so warm,” he cries, and you smile against his head, a tear slipping down your own cheek. “How could they torture you for so long, and you’re still so warm? How could they do that to you?” 

     “You kept me warm,” you whisper, afraid your voice would break if it’s any louder. “You saved me in more ways than you think.”

     He holds you closer, close enough to feel his heart beat, to have to affect your own, have them sink and calm and soothe together. He sighs against your neck, his breath shaky but tears slowing.

     “I’ll keep you warm forever.” 

       “Seonghwa-Hyung will bring us to the police in the morning,” Yunho says as he checks his phone. You’re wearing his clothes, big and comfy, as you lounge on his blue, squishy bed. It feels just like him, fluffy and perfect for the shape of you. You could melt into it and sleep forever. You’ve never felt something so soft. Except for him, of course. 

     You look over to make him come snuggle with you, but he isn’t where your eyes left him. You frown. “Yunho?” He doesn’t answer. Maybe he went to the bathroom? Or maybe he went to talk with someone? You pout, laying back in bed. But something feels wrong. You sit up. “Yunho?” you call out again. Still no answer. You get up quickly and go to the door. Peaking out into the hallway, it’s dark and silent. No one’s there. This is freaky. Where could he have gone? You turn around, closing your eyes for a long moment. It’s okay. Maybe he went to get some water. 

     “Yunho?” you gasp, your eyes shooting open as you lunge forward. Your legs are wrapped tightly in a thick blanket, the room around you dark, quiet, cold, without him. He’s gone. He’s… The scent here is familiar. Something distant which you haven’t smelled in a long, long time. 

     The door creaks open, and a slither of light shines against the walls. “Y/n, baby, are you alright?” Mom. Her face is masked with gentle concern, but you can’t answer, staring in confusion, in silence. “Did you have a bad dream?” she asks, and you tilt your head. A bad dream?

     “A dream…?” You gasp. What’s with your voice? You look around again. The walls are covered in posters, pink and purple and black and… colors surround you. The cell, so grey… the… what… the dream… What was it about? “I don’t remember,” you whisper. 

     “It’s okay, baby,” she coos, stepping into the room. Her dent on the bed makes you lean toward her, your head falling to her shoulder, that scent of her perfume, so familiar. “It was just a dream, whatever it was.” 

     You sigh, letting your body melt into her. Yeah, it was all just a dream. It just feels like you haven’t been in her arms forever. 

       For ten years, your life seems so… unfamiliar, as if every moment you spend growing… isn’t truly happening. Every spoken word echoes, every touch vibrates softly as if it isn’t supposed to happen, and you grow used to it, but you never shake that feeling that something is utterly wrong… something is missing. Or someone. 

     Because you dream almost every night the same dream, and you’ve never told anyone, but somehow, this dream feels more real than life ever does. It started that night when you were ten. And it never went away. You’re always brought back to the darkness. You don’t understand it. You can’t see, you can’t speak, but you’re anything but lonely. You have a friend. 

     He sings to you. Through this wall in the darkness. Who is he? Why is he here? Is he stuck in this dream, just like you? But you can never ask him. 

       “I’m telling you, it’s all real,” you whine, tugging on your friend’s sleeve as she types away at her computer. 

     “You’re crazy, Y/n,” she giggles. “Even if you’ve had the same dream for fifteen years, there’s no way it’s real. You're crazy.”

     You roll your eyes. “I’m crazy? You’re fighting teenagers for a ticket, thinking an idol is gonna fall in love with you,” you laugh, but she eyes you with puckered lips, clearly offended. 

     “I could pull them,” she huffs. 

     “Uh huh.”

     “Anyway, you’re coming with me,” she says, zoning back in on the computer.

     You quirk a brow. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

     “Please,” she scoffs. “I’m paying for your ticket. In return, you have to drive me there.”

     “Whaaaat?” you groan, letting your head fall dramatically to her bed, melting into it with a deep frown. “How far away is it? Can’t you just drive yourself?”

     “It’s, like, two hours away.”

     “Whaaaat…”

     “Stop complaining,” she grumbles. “You’ll get a free- fuck, shhhh, it’s starting. Be silent.”

     You furrow your brows, burying your head into her pillow with a long, deep sigh. Whatever. It’s not like you have anything better to do. 

         You’ve heard of ATEEZ, but you’ve never actually ventured into their music. Standing outside the venue with a squirming, dolled-up bestie, you’re not really looking forward to it. She scored barricade seats, right up on these idols. It's going to be so embarrassing. You should have just agreed to drive her without getting a ticket. But… you’ll make the most of it and have fun with her.

     To say you get a weird feeling when you walk inside, though, is an understatement. You get immediate chills, pausing in your tracks as you look around. Something isn’t right. Or it is. Whatever it is, it’s weird, and you want to get out of there. The show hasn’t even started. 

     Your seats truly are right up at the stage. You’d be able to see every detail of the performance from here… every drop of sweat, every twitch of a lip, every step in the dance. 

     “I’ll be back. Bathroom,” you whisper, getting up from your seat. 

     “Hurry…” she whines. “Soundcheck starts soon. I have to introduce you to my man.” You roll your eyes before walking slowly toward the ladies room. You’ll be back in time. 

     But the uneasy feeling from earlier is growing stronger, and it’s making you nauseous. You thought it would be a quick trip to the ladies’ room, but you’re bent in two, sitting on the toilet seat, fully clothed, sweating and panting as you try to catch your breath. What the fuck is going on? Your mind is spinning around and around, only stopping when it gives you a moment’s witness of that familiar darkness. You hear the crowd erupt. The group must be on stage. They must be singing, greeting the crowd. You hear them, but you can’t hear anything as your ears tune in on his voice in that darkness, his hums which were your only company as you dreamed each night. Why are you suddenly hearing him? He’s just from your fucking dream. You grab your ears, groaning as you try to focus on the crowd, on the singing. 

     There’s a knock on your stall door, and you open it hesitantly. Knowing by the little black Mary Janes that it’s your girl.

     “Y/n,” she gasps, “Are you okay?” She kneels in front of you, gently stroking your cheek, and you can finally calm down, taking slow breaths. You realize the crowd is quiet, and the singing is over. 

     “Sorry,” you sigh, “I missed soundcheck. Had a huge-”

     She playfully slaps your cheek, standing up with a groan. “Gross,” she giggles.

     The uneasy feeling is gone for the next few hours as you relax and eat with her until the show starts. All is well, all is good. And you have a lot of fun in the end. 

     The lights dim, and the music starts, and you quickly regain that weird feeling. The members are wearing cloaks. You can’t see their faces, only watch as the cloth flows with their movement. It’s freaky. It’s cool. Even as they perform a few songs, you don’t see their features clearly until they begin their little solo dances. That’s when you really feel weird. Your heart is racing in anticipation. For what? Maybe you’re so invested into the show, but when three members dance around, collapsing at different sides of the stage, you’re met with big, wide, horrified eyes, and you realize exactly why.

     Your knees grow weak, your pupils trembling. He’s staring right at you; he knows too. Everything returns to you. Every moment, every word, every touch. 

     You’re both frozen there, just a few feet away. His hand trembles as he reaches out… for you. He reaches out, maybe he can grasp you. Maybe he can touch you. Maybe he can hold you close because why were you suddenly taken from him? Why were you suddenly sent back, separated? 

     His arms are grabbed, and he’s pulled away, aggressively taken away from you. You shout his name, but it’s drowned by the crowd, by the music. 

     A tear slips down your cheek. How could you forget everything? How could you… You think back on the last fifteen years, how you awoke that morning, just a child again, oblivious, memory wiped, living knowing something wasn’t right, something was missing. And there it is. Yunho.

     You sit down, bringing your head to your lap as tears fall from your eyes. Never have you betrayed yourself so horribly, betrayed him so unfairly. How could you leave him like that when you had promised him you would always return, that you would never leave him?

     You don’t watch the rest of the show. You can’t lift your eyes from your lap. You can’t. 

     You remember everything.  

           ��Y/n, it’s really okay if you’re not up to it,” she insists, rubbing your arms gently as you eye the crowd moving toward the last event. “You’re not feeling well.”

     “No,” you mumble. “I need to go.”

    She huffs a laugh. “Were you so entranced by their performance? Did they woo you?” She snickers as if she told a joke, but you don’t get it. Rolling her eyes, she urges you forward. “Let’s go get a good spot then.”

     You’ve calmed down by now. You realize it wasn’t a dream at all. It was all real, and, by the look on his face, without a doubt, he remembers too. You need to see him again. Even if… now he wants nothing to do with you, you need to see him again. 

     You’re close to the front but hidden by other fans for the most part. They don’t come out for a while, and you’re a little nervous. You’re a lot nervous, playing with the fabric on your girl’s top. She doesn’t mind, too deep in her thoughts, probably delusional, romantic. 

     And then they come out. And your eyes search frantically for them, but there’s a lot of people blocking your view. It’s frustrating, but you have to be patient. The members go around and stop by your section, smiling, taking pictures, signing, talking. It’s cute, how they interact with their fans.

     You recognize two of them. Seonghwa looks just like he did back then, or, maybe this is around the same time as back then. Wooyoung is snappy and loud, like each person he talks to is another close friend. You recognize them, know them. It’s weird… to see more of that dream appear in front of you. 

     And him. Yunho appears, looking anxiously around as he signs and talks and smiles. He’s not paying attention to any of it, but you can tell he is. You smile, finally able to see him through the small crowd. He’s just like you remember. As his eyes find yours again, they give you that look, like you’re the only thing they’ve ever been looking for, just like in his cell, in the auditorium, and on the stage. 

     He nearly stumbles as he comes closer, eyes never leaving yours. He doesn’t look scared like he did on the stage, and neither do you. There’s a deep understanding in your gazes now. 

     Your friend’s squealing beside you, shaking your arm as he stops just a few feet away. He looks around, head low. He knows there are cameras lining the crowd. All eyes are on him. He can’t say anything, and neither can you. You want to reach out, want to touch him, see if he’s real.

     “Tiny~” He smiles wide, eyes squinting cutely, but you can see a soft layer of tears hiding there. “Do you want a selfie?” He points to your phone, held tightly in your hand. You hesitantly nod, and he motions you closer. The crowd parts a bit, and you can walk forward. He takes your phone, his fingers grazing yours, and you could melt at how warm he is, how soft he is. You can smell him as he motions you closer and closer. His cheek bumps gently against yours as he holds the camera up. “Smile, Y/n,” he whispers, and your cheeks tint a deep pink as you see yourself in the camera, listen to his words, hear your name, and feel him around you. His hand curls at your opposite cheek, like a heart, and your face completes it. 

     He takes at least four pictures, all the same, but he stays there for so long, he doesn’t want to leave. As he pulls away, so slowly, and he hands you your phone, you feel a piece of paper slip into your palm. His eyes stay gazing into yours for only a moment longer before the manager beside him urges him to move on, and he’s pulled away.

     You don’t look down at the paper. You don’t make it known. Not even to your friend, who’s tugging on your sleeve and fangirling over the whole thing, practically begging to see the photos. You carefully put the paper in your pocket with a hidden, shy smile.

       “Stay. I arranged a driver for your friend.” How do you explain something like that to her? 

     But before you can even go to tell her, she’s nowhere to be seen. Your phone vibrates and lights up with a message from her. 

     “I’m gonna stay in town for the night. I want to try out the cat cafe!!! You can head back alone.”

     You stare at the message for a long moment. How convenient. 

     You’re interrupted by a clearing of someone’s throat. Startled, you lock eyes with one of the managers and nearly squeak an apology. This is so embarrassing. How do you explain that Yunho is…

     “Come with me,” he says quietly, and you eye him skeptically. “Yunho is backstage.”

     He starts to walk, and your shoulders lose some tension without his glare. It’s replaced with a growing excitement. You bite your lip as you’re guided to the back. It’s busy, and you feel so strange, like you’re not supposed to be here, but you know soon, you can finally see him again. For real, alone, where you can finally talk, and touch, and see, and everything constantly stripped from you. 

     You sigh as he comes into your sight. The door closes behind you, the room silent except for his quick footsteps. Your back hits the door as he pushes his body against you, his lips on yours instantly. You whimper, feeling his fingers run through your hair, stroking you with pure love and relief. His lips are soft but urgent as they move against yours, he breathes your name between fast kisses, and your eyes roll shut, falling deep into the feeling of him. 

     “What happened?” he pants against your lips, gazing into your eyes, forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. “Where did you go?” His voice breaks, and it squeezes at your heart as your lips tremble into a frown. “Why does no one remember?” he asks, gently caressing your cheek as he holds you just a little closer. “Why were you gone?”

     But he kisses you again, lifting your chin to keep your lips on his. He’s panting against you, his hands sliding down your neck as he feels your delicate body, your soft skin, your light shivers. They rest on your waist, gentle yet big against you, his fingers sliding just slightly under your top. 

     “Please,” he mumbles. “Don’t leave me again.” His jaw clenches as he stares into your eyes, his words growing darker as he becomes used to you back in his arms. “Come home with me.” 

       Yunho’s room is warmer than you remember. Or maybe your desperate breaths as he pins you against the wall are filling the room with a desperate heat quickly. You can tell he’s exhausted from the concert mentally and physically, but he needs to be close to you right now. 

     You walk him to the bed and lay him down. He doesn’t object much, trusting you with himself completely. You climb onto his lap and lean against his chest. He sighs with the warm weight of you, letting you stay there for a long moment. 

     “I dreamed about you,” you whisper, working on the strings of his pants lazily. “Every night.”

     “Me too,” he sighs. “I dreamed about the cell, but I thought I was going crazy.” 

     You giggle. “Me too.” 

     You pull down his sweatpants, leaving him in his briefs. Then, you strip off your own pants. You work on his shirt next. He lets you do as you please, nodding off but keeping his eyes wide just to keep you in his sight.

     “Do you remember everything?” you ask, glancing away as you’re met with his bare chest. You slip off your own shirt, and he looks away too, his ears growing red, just like you remember.

     “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Except… I don’t remember what happened after I found you in the tank… until we were outside and safe,” he says. 

     Your eyes grow wide a little. “Really?” you mumble, and he nods. 

     “How did we get out?” he asks, and you avoid his curious gaze.

     “You broke me out… and we ran away,” you say, which is mostly the truth. He accepts it, smiling as he thinks back at the look on your face as you finally saw the sky for the first time in years.

     You plop down beside him, and he curls into you as you pull the covers over you both. 

     “How do we know something like that won’t happen again?” he asks, bringing you close to his chest.

     You’re silent for a moment. “Even if it does, we’ll find each other no matter what. Even when I couldn’t remember… I knew you were missing. I can’t live without you,” you say, gazing at him as he smiles. 

     “Even so, let’s promise,” he whispers, digging out his hand from the covers to hold out his pinky. “Promise that we’ll never disappear again.”

     You grin, latching your pinky with his, giggling together as you snuggle close and fall asleep.

       For years, you stay by each other’s side. You move into an apartment and change jobs to live in Seoul. You never speak to your mother again. You love your life by his side, perfect and sweet, even if his fans are a bit crazy about your relationship. You don’t mind. Everything is perfect.

     Best of all, you keep your promise to each other… for six years. 

     You don’t feel uneasy… nor warned… nor any different that night as you go to sleep in his arms. 

     And suddenly you can’t move. You can’t speak. You can’t hear.

     Your vision is foggy, your limbs bound in place, floating in a thick fluid. The tank. 

     Oh, fuck, the tank.

     The glass is clear, built around you. It was never shattered. You were never saved. 

     The room is silent. The audience… they’re bones. Bones, melting into the seats. They’re gone, dead. For years, they've been dead. For decades, maybe, and you’ve been here. It was all a lie. You’ve been here. You…

     You hear a faint cry. It’s distant, a truly saddening cry… of a child. 

     Your heart sinks. It slows amidst the sudden chaos of your mind. How long have you been here in this tank? How many… children… have you had? That is… the true use of the tank. 

     Your eyes can hardly move, and it hurts so bad, but you need to look toward the sobs. There’s more. More cries, more children. 

     But you don’t see them when your eyes finally move to your left. Instead you see another tank. Floating, much like you, is Yunho. Your eyes meet, and your heart stops. 

     You were never free. You were never free. You were never free. 

     You were here the whole time, with him, locked in this tank, forced to reproduce. You were never free. And now even your dreams are gone. You have to stay and watch as you live… like this… for how long? How long will it be until you die? Because you just want to die right now. Before you forget everything… You want to die when you can see his eyes and remember it all. 

     You want to die. You want to fucking die. 

     What’s the point? You can’t even kill yourself. You want to die. What’s the fucking point?! What’s the point?! What’s the point?! Die! Why can’t you just die! They can’t give you something and take it away again! And again! They’re fucking with you! They can’t take him away from you again! You'd rather just die! Die! Qhy can’t you just kill yourself?! No fucking way you’re going to live if you can’t have him! You’ll just fucking die!

     Tears are streaming from your eyes… Warm arms are wrapped around you as you sob. Your fists clench his shirt, nails digging into his skin. You feel his hitching breath against your nose, his tears wetting your lashes and mixing with your own. 

     “No,” he sobs, curling into you as he opens his eyes. “No, it’s okay.” His breath is trembling, unsure, but you nod anyway. Fuck, you were so scared. You were so scared. “It’s not real,” he whispers, his lips quivering as his hands grip your body so tight.

     “It’s not real,” you repeat, and he nods quickly. “W-we promised we wouldn’t disappear again,” you whisper, and he nods again. “S-so it can’t be real. It’s okay.”

     Your ears are ringing, heart pounding, but it’s all soothing as you hold him close. If you hold him close enough this time, maybe he won’t disappear. You whisper again and again to each other nonsense, comforting nonsense, just to stay awake as tears softly dampen the pillow beneath your heads. Just to survive the night, you won’t fall asleep, won’t let his eyes leave yours. 

     This is real. 

     You won’t disappear because this is real.

     It’s real.

a/n ~ thank you so much for reading ♡

mwaᯓᡣ𐭩

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[mmywanda]

Forbidden Pleasure — W.M

—

Paring: CEO!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you decided to join your family’s business, you had no idea the ceo of the rival company would be so.. alluring.

Warnings: Forbidden romance, seduction, corruption, age gap, future d/s dynamics, a lot of sexual tension, smut, Wanda in a suit needs its own warning, and more to be added in each chapter. men & minors dni.

Inspired by the brilliant song ‘Dandelion’ by Jesse Jo Stark. I highly recommend listening to it as the chapter names will be from the lyrics.

—

Chapter One: Dandelion

Chapter Two: ….

Chapter Three: ….

[lifenconcepts]

hot take but. Before people were fucking about with terms and stuff, old movies had WAYY more deep platonic connections that could be mistaken for romance and stuff. Not that they had romantic or sexual tension but like.. people nowadays look at two characters glance at eachother and think ‘wow. They should fuck’ but a room of guys would stare at some guy tenderly holding another guy on tv because he had a nightmare and think ‘wow. What a very sweet moment with absolutely no other connotations other than deep respect and sincerity.’

just think that’s neat.

[mxymii]

DINNER 𐙚

pairing | dad’s best friend! lee byunghun x fem!reader

summary | when an unexpected guest makes for an unexpected turn of events.

warnings | 18+, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, sir kink, jealousy, obsessive, possessive, age gap (50 n 21), etc. (plot with sex? maybe? somewhat long before the smut)

a/n | hello everyone!! i have delivered this post as requested by @d3lux3s as a continuation of ride home, so enjoy!

the evening started out normal enough. the house was filled with the warm hum of your dad’s laughter as he moved around the kitchen, the clinking of glasses and plates echoing faintly. you’d been avoiding the table, lingering upstairs as long as possible, knowing that tonight would be anything but normal.

because he was coming.

you heard the front door open, followed by your dad’s cheerful voice.

“byunghun! good to see you, man. come in!”

you froze at the top of the stairs, your heart pounding. his presence filled the house like a shadow, heavy and inescapable.

“smells great in here,” byunghun said, his deep voice smooth.

your stomach twisted as you forced yourself to descend the stairs. when you reached the bottom, his eyes were already on you, dark and unrelenting.

your secret meetings began innocently enough—late-night drives, hushed conversations in shadowed corners—but the fire between you grew with every fleeting touch, every moment spent too close to each other. when he pulled up outside your window, headlights off to avoid suspicion, your heart raced with the thrill of knowing this was wrong, but wanting it anyway. you sat in his car for hours, the heat between you almost unbearable as your hands hovered too close, your gazes locking in ways that said more than words ever could. you both knew this was a line you shouldn’t cross, but the way his voice dropped when he whispered your name, the way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed yours—it was impossible to stop. each secret meeting felt like feeding an addiction, dangerous and exhilarating, with no escape in sight.

“alright,” your dad said, oblivious to the tension. “we’ve got plenty of food, so grab a drink and relax. ryan’s on his way, too.”

your head snapped up at the mention of ryan’s name; a long time friend of yours in which you hadn’t had the chance to catch up until now, and you saw the faint flicker of annoyance in byunghun’s expression.

“ryan?” he repeated, his voice dropping slightly.

“yeah, you remember ryan, don’t you?” your dad said, pulling plates from the cabinet. “he’s been friends with y/n since forever, until he had moved out for a few but his family decided to come back to town.”

“oh, i remember him,” byunghun said, his smile tightening.

the doorbell rang then, and you practically bolted to answer it, grateful for the brief escape. ryan stood on the porch, grinning as usual, holding a bag of drinks.

“hey! hope i’m not late,” he said, stepping inside.

you barely had time to respond before byunghun appeared in the entryway, his presence looming behind you.

“ryan,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. “been a while.”

ryan hesitated, glancing at you before shaking his hand. “yeah, it has. good to see you.”

“likewise,” byunghun said, though his grip lingered just a moment too long.

the tension between them was palpable, like an invisible wire stretched too tight, ready to snap. byunghun had moved away, giving ryan space to enter the house and set the drinks. your gaze was locked on byunghun as he stared at you.

“be careful, little one…” he’d whisper softly against your ears as a soft whimper escaped from you.

the four of you gathered at the dining table, but the air felt stifling, the usual warmth of your dad’s stories overshadowed by the weight of byunghun’s gaze. you sat across from him, with ryan beside you, a setup you immediately regretted.

your dad was completely oblivious, laughing at his own jokes as he passed around dishes. ryan leaned over to grab a serving spoon, his arm brushing against yours.

“careful, boy,” byunghun said suddenly, his tone sharp but masked with a thin layer of humor. “don’t crowd her.”

ryan blinked, startled. “oh, sorry. didn’t mean to.”

“no worries,” byunghun said, leaning back in his chair. but his eyes stayed on ryan, unblinking, his jaw tight.

“so, ryan,” your dad said, oblivious once again, “what’ve you been up to? college? work?”

ryan perked up, eager to talk. “yeah, college’s been great. i’ve been looking at internships—there’s one downtown i’m really hoping to land.”

“ambitious,” your dad said, nodding.

“yeah, good for you,” byunghun said, his voice smooth but edged with something biting. “must be tough, juggling all that with your little side trips here.”

the table fell silent. ryan frowned. “what do you mean?”

“nothing,” byunghun said, shrugging. “just seems like you spend a lot of time hanging around here. surprising, considering how busy you claim to be.”

your dad chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood. “he’s just giving you a hard time, ryan. ignore him.”

but you couldn’t ignore the way byunghun’s eyes flicked to you, lingering just a little too long, daring you to speak.

as the meal went on, the tension only grew. every time ryan spoke, byunghun would respond with something sharp, his words cutting deeper and deeper.

“so, what’s this internship about?” your dad asked.

“it’s in marketing,” ryan said, his tone brightening. “i’ve always been interested in that side of business.”

“interesting,” byunghun said, his voice low. “but maybe you should focus on the present before you get ahead of yourself.”

ryan frowned. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“just that you seem pretty distracted,” byunghun said, his tone deceptively casual. “spending all this time here, with her.”

“y/n’s my friend,” ryan said, his voice rising slightly.

“is she?” byunghun shot back, his calm demeanor cracking just enough to reveal the anger simmering beneath.

your dad looked up, confused. “what’s going on here?”

“nothing,” byunghun said quickly, his charming smile returning. “just looking out for her, that’s all.”

“looking out for me?” you finally spoke, your voice trembling.

“always,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “you know that.”

the tension was suffocating, and you could see the confusion on your dad’s face, the frustration on ryan’s. your hands trembled underneath the table, the way byunghun was acting was suspicious to both present members at the dining room at the moment but byunghun didn’t care. his attention was entirely on you, his control over the room absolute.

when the plates were cleared and your dad stepped outside to take a call, the silence between the three of you was deafening.

“what’s your problem?” ryan asked, finally snapping.

byunghun stood, his posture calm but his eyes blazing. “my problem is you. thinking you can just show up here and take what doesn’t belong to you.”

ryan stared at him, stunned. “what the hell are you talking about?”

you opened your mouth to speak, but byunghun cut you off, his voice low and dangerous. “you don’t belong here. she’s mine. and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the hell away from her.”

the words hung in the air like a bomb, and for a moment, no one moved. then ryan grabbed his jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

byunghun turned to you, his expression softening, though his eyes still burned with intensity. “you’re welcome,” he said quietly.

“for what?” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“for protecting you,” he said, stepping closer. “you don’t need anyone else, baby. just me.”

he moved closer to, pulling your seat outwards so he can stand directly in between your thighs. he lowered himself down in his knees as his hand were rested on your thighs, the dress you had on now pooled up against your waist.

“i hated the way he would look at you…” he whispered his fingers trailing at your skin, goosebumps seem to erupt and appear at that small action, your body quivering slightly away from his touch. he couldn’t do this not here in which your father can easily come in and catch you both in plain sight.

“b-byunghun…my dad..” you’d whisper at him which only made his dark gaze meet yours. “well then baby, you’re going to have to keep quiet.”

just as he finished, he was quick to rip your panties off of you, his mouth reliving the aching you had felt ever since he came in. “byunghun—!”

“baby..if you don’t want us to get caught, i’d suggest you to keep quiet.” he said as his tongue maneuvered against your lips, feeling your wetness coating his lips. “fuck…you’re so drenched..”

his fingers seemed to tease your entrance, he’d touch everywhere but never inserted them in which made you annoyed. “sir-.. please..—!”

he chuckled at your pleas, he loved to see you crumbling under his touch, the way he inflicted so much control and power over you sent him over the edge. “hmm..why don’t you ask ryan to do it? huh? you loved his company so much no?” he taunted, his dark eyes burning holes on you.

“please—! i w-want you…”

he groaned at your confession as he fumbled quickly with his trousers, wasting no time to pull them, along with his boxers, down. his cock red and angry, ropes of precum oozing down his length.

“i’m going to fuck you hard you’ll forget that fucker..” he grunted, his cock ramming into you, hard just like he promised. his hand gripped your mouth shut as your scream was muffled against it, your eyes rolled back as you felt him so deep in you.

your father was now long forgotten as you could only focus on his best friend ramming into you and his grip on your face tightening. “ugh—!…r-ryan can’t fuck you like t-this, huh?” his words stuttering as he felt you clench around him tightly.

“s-sir—!” you’d plea as your legs shook violently against the table, your head tilted back as your hand gripped your chair which shock from how aggressively byunghun pounded into you.

“you’re mine, little one. don’t f-forget that.” you could feel yourself coming closer to your climax, your pussy clenching tighter around his cock. his thrust more sloppy and unparalleled as he felt himself edge off as well. “cum with me baby…” he’d whisper against your ear as you both moaned, both reaching your high.

heavy breaths and soft whimpers were heard from you as you felt him fill you up full, his movements continuing gently. he placed his rough hand against your clit, doing gentle strokes and circle movements.

“b-byunghun—…i-i can’t—“

“shh baby…” he pampered as he continued his actions softly, kissing the nape of your skin softly, leaving slight pink marks around your body.

“let’s see how long we can go for until your father comes back…”

a/n : okayyy i really hope you like it ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა tysm for reading !! (feel free to send me any request or anything you would like for me to try!!) any reblogs, comments, likes and feedback would be greatly appreciated <3

mxymii out!

[leiatalon]

The Eternal Library: a Romantasy Retelling IF (WIP)

What if Cinderella and the prince grew up together?

What if the king was the evil one?

What if the missing piece wasn’t a glass slipper, but ancient memories buried in your soul?

Fight for forbidden love in a cruel kingdom and forge alliances with the heir to the crown.

Buried beneath the sprawling castle at the heart of Minare is a room most think is legend: the Library of Souls. As a member of the royal cleaning staff—and one with Fae-blood—sneaking into the Eternal Library is a dangerous idea, but you risk it for a ritual that gives you the skills of your warrior ancestor and a mission that spans lifetimes.

Destiny calls your warrior spirit to wake.

Assassins are infiltrating the castle.

The kingdom is ripe for change, and it needs your help.

Your soul has waited lifetimes for the chance to put things right.

Now, it’s time.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; gay, straight, bi; asexual; monogamous or polyamorous.

Romance or befriend a scholarly prince, a down-to-earth princess, a scarred soldier, a soft-spoken spy, a sweet-hearted maid, or a Fae warrior-mage. 3 male and 3 female ROs: Romance character descriptions.

This is a SLOW BURN ROMANCE. Optional explicit scenes will be offered at the end of the game, but it’ll be a while before we get to those. Enjoy the secret glances and deep yearning until then. ❤️

This is a standalone story set in the same world as Their Majesties’ Pleasure and Ink and Intrigue. You do not need to have played either of those games to enjoy this one.

Public demo wordcount: 65,000 Patreon demo wordcount: 95,000

Play the ETERNAL LIBRARY DEMO for Free!

Join the conversation on the CoG forum thread.

Subscribe to my Patreon for bonus scenes, worldbuilding secrets, and early access to demo updates! 👑

[pitchcanker]

THE SECOND CIRCLE OF HELL: LUST

[velvetypoets]

Mister pitch perfect

The perfect Gryffindor golden boy has gone off his rails to catch a Black daughter.

Warnings: James Potter x reader fanfic, James is down bad, I tagged marauders but no peter, Slytherin reader, Black family reader, reader is portrayed as she/her, reader centric, forbidden love trope, SFW, James perspective

havent done this in a while and this will be the first time im posting on this platform. im very sorry if its quite messy!

this was supposed to be a oneshot but i drag it too much. so it'll be some sort of a series oneshot? will also be posted on ao3 soon!

————————————————————————————————————————

It was never meant to be. James Fleamont Potter was basically molted into the perfect specimen of man and every soul who has ever walked Hogwarts knew. Sure he would cause trouble every then and again with his fellow mates. Yet of course, James would always dazzle his way out of it with a few charming smiles or reasonings to squeal his way out of being blamed.

[ part 1|part 2|part 3 ]

He was confident, charismatic, spotless.

And when he meets eyes with you, it was set. James is sitting at his usual spot with the marauders at supper when the moment arrives. You were fixing your necklace to your neck at the Slytherin table, struggling with the clasps as your face scrunches in frustration. James almost walks the whole way over to you and offers his assistance right then and there.

"Stop undressing my cousin with your eyes, Prongs," Sirius brings James back to reality with a slap on the back of his head. He seems to still be having his feast so that was new of him to pick on James in that setting. Remus raises an eyebrow as he stares at the two, "Since when do you care about the other Blacks?"

"That was foul, Pads!" James yell as he rubs his head and glares at his mate, he's used to Sirius playfights but that slap seems to be sincere. He tries to focus on the conversation as he tries to find you again on the table across. You seemed to have moved next to Regulus as he helps you with your necklace. James lets out an involuntary sigh.

"She's different, Moony. She's on the edge too. Pretty sure she's going to find a way to run when she hits 18," Sirius lets out a scowl, "Heard she is to be arranged with Nott. Bloody brilliant that."

"Nott? That Nott? Surely you're joking. That bastard can't even keep his owl alive for a week! How's he going to keep a wife that young?!" Remus exclaims in disbelief. Whipping his head to take a good look at you now that you're a big deal. "I wish I was. I love you but seriously mate, don't. You're big enough trouble yourself," Warns Sirius with his fork right to to James face. A juicy piece of meat dangling right on it.

He bites it though. Sirius lets out a shrieking squeal of, "My meat!", erupting laughter at the Gryffindor table as James chews proudly with a sly smile across his face. The boisterous sound turns a few heads, including yours. Your brows raised at the sudden commotion, only to have the red of your cheeks creep in as you find one of your cousin being the center of it. He watches as you rub your cheeks to hide the tint.

James gulps the meat down. He's quite full himself but he must admit, it's nothing like he has ever had.

——————————————————————————

The next time he sees you, you are sitting by yourself writing in parchments on a patch of grass by the lake. James is in a broom practicing to catch the golden snitch on Hogwarts grounds. Quite foolish but he's gotten bored of the arena and its currently being used by the Hufflepuff team anyways.

He's worried about you sitting all alone in this breeze though. It's quite cold and you don't seem to be wearing enough layers. He keeps a distance near a tree so as not to scare you, although he is quite discontent with seeing just your figure by the lake.

You whipped your head to the skies behind you, "Reggie? Is that you?" You ask calmly, your eyes not missing the shadowy figure blatantly hiding behind a tree, "I saw you from the reflection. Very funny, Regs."

James cracked a smile at your sarcastic tone. He even finds your voice perfect. He fixes himself a little before he reveals himself off the shade and lands in front of you, "So I'll take it you find me quite funny?"

Your eyes widened as you process the man in front of you. Why would James Potter—the Gryffindor golden boy—be here? And why is he talking to you now?

"You're not Reggie." You said still in shock, almost sounding like a question. Your brows are raised as you try to study his demeanor. He's holding his broom awkwardly in his arms, you've always thought James Potter's confident composure was permanent.

"Well if your standards of humour is a certain Regulus Black, I'm sure I'd be comical, love," He cracks a small smile and a hand extended to you, "Potter. James Potter."

You look at James like you're Newt Scamander finding a newfound beast, "I know who you are. Everybody does," You said in disbelief, finding the whole situation suspicious. The breeze of wind moves his curly hair to his face, framing it gracefully, "What I want to know is why are you doing this? We're not exactly fit to be friends."

"Why that's quite bold of you, lovely. Who said I'd like to be friends?" He said as he leans closer. You never noticed it before but his glasses are rather clean today, his hazy eyes look at you with glimmer in them you've never seen on anyone before. You think to yourself if its one of the charisma of being James Potter.

You stood your ground, you would have never thought to ever be face to face with this dazzling man in front of you. You are a Black though, your legs won't give in even if you try, "Well that's settled then. Are you here to pick a fight?" You ask him plainly, crossing your arms upon your chest.

James finds it adorable, he knows full well of his effects on people and especially of course girls. What he doesn't understand is the effect you have on him. "The contrary, darling. I have a proposition for you."

You lift a brow and yet let him continue, "I heard you're in quite the predicament with Nott. Now I know a way to get you out," His claim makes your eyes open, you let him continue. Words dripping in confidence, "A date. With me."

This time, you can't help but let out a laugh–of which James can't help but take in the sight. He's completely enamoured.

'What? Huh– Hold on. You can't be serious," You looked at him as if he had gone mad, the thought of a Black and a Potter dating is out of this world, "I don't know what kind of prank you're up to, but do you seriously think I'll fall for that?"

"Wait, I am serious! Picture this, if Nott knows you're going out with me he'd be livid, enough to break off the arrangement. I mean have you seen the way that scum looks at me? It's like he has this permanent face of eating vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans!" He rants as he joined in on the laughter with you.

You are smiling as the laughter reduces to giggles. As stupid as it is, it has a good chance of actually working. You pondered, there's still one thing on your mind, "What's in it for you? Would I have to do anything?"

James let out a smile, his palms are sweating like he's deep into a Quidditch game, "Well I get to see Nott lose his bride—" He pauses, confronting himself whether to tell you the real truth or not, "I mean I'll also get a beauty on my side."

You roll your eyes at that, "Don't you try to charm me, Potter. Give me the real reason or its off. I have a feeling you need this more than I do,"

She's right, James thought. He was about to play it off if you denied it straight away, he wasn't entirely sure you would actually take him seriously. He grasps the sight of you for a bit before closing his eyes tight, "Okay, how about I tell you the reason in a week— Maybe a month. You don't have to do anything, we'd just go out like normal couples do. Sounds good to you?" He said, he extends his arms to you for a handshake. His thoughts full of prayers to Merlin so you wouldn't notice the tremble in his arm.

You grin the same one James had seen a million times on Sirius's face, the Black's grin of content. You shake his hand firmly, his big ones almost encasing yours, "You've got yourself a deal, Potter."

James is using every atom on his magical being to control his ecstasy as he smiles widely at you. Once the handshake is done he reaches for his scarf over his neck and wears it on you, "Nice doing business with you, sweetcheeks. I do hope you start wearing warmer clothes though. No snogging will be done if you're in Pomfreys care."

She looks good in my color

Well technically so is the color of a quarter of the schools because of course its a Griffyndor scarf.

"You surely don't expect me to go back. To my dorm. Through the halls, the stairs and the common room. With this on?"

Oh I won't regret this one bit, James thought. He chuckles at your words dripped in such a sarcastic tone, "Of course not, darling. Do you think I'm mad?"

He extends his arms for you to hold, "We'll go back together. Through the halls, the stairs, even the common room. I heard you folks have lovely parties there."

You let out a chuckle as you circle your arms around his, "Oh, the best ones. Your Gryffindors ass is so not invited though."

"Well at least I do have a lovely one, don't I?"

"Oh shut it, Potter!"

——————————————————————————

Another storm of commotion is coursing through Hogwarts. A lot has played it off as a mere prank. James grins at the thought of it. He has only you on his mind lately, cherishing the bits of conversation you and him had.

He's on his way to charms class this morning, one that inconveniently does not have you in it, he checked. He checked your schedule last night sneaking through administration with the invisibility cloak.

Moony and Pads by his side as usual. Sirius seems to still haven't caught wind of it, his hair tousled from a good sleep. Apparently he was up all night helping Remus solve a 10k piece magic puzzle.

Won't be long with how loud the students are gossiping though. James let out a coherent sighs. He had an amount of grins with knowing looks from a couple male students and even a pat on the back by a random Slytherin, "Alright, what is going on?" Remus breaks first. Stopping the two boys right before the class door.

James crackles a laugh, "What's going on? Nothing's going on, mate! What?" Moony lets out a drawled scowl on him, one he makes when he pieces that they're in some kind of trouble, "Why is everybody on Hogwarts up your pants then, Prongs?!"

Sirius yawns as he hugs James by the side to lean his head on him, "Yeah... Saw that too even if my eyes were closed the entire walk. You can tell us mate, come on," He does notice the lack of scarf on his mate's neck though, none in this rapidly chilly morning? "Prongsie, where's your scarf? I could really use a pillow here–"

"Oh! Thank Merlin! One second late and I would've thrown this in the bin. Here, take this off me," There you are with James Potter red and yellow scarf on your hands, just coming out the door. All three boys were quite startled, "What? Wait. This isn't your class," said James. His eyes land on the presence of a Slytherin scarf wrapping your neck. James wishes he could take that one instead.

"Yeah... I'm sort of risking being late to Dark Arts for this but I can't take the whispering anymore. I might square the next person who even looks at me!" You told him, your grip on his scarf tightens and James wishes the fabric would stretch upon your nails.

Sirius is well awake now, his bagged eyes darting between you and James as if you're both insane, "Hold–Hold on! What is this? What is happening, Why do you have James's scarf?" He cuts, going between you and James to put a distance and blocks James view. Remus gives James a 'he did warned you, mate' face at the side.

James on the other hand, in too much of a thrill of seeing you this early in the morning, "You could also just admit ya didn't want me to get cold, love. Thanks for the thought there," He said almost shouting as he stands on his tips to try and see you from above Sirius's head.

You let out an annoyed grunt, "Ugh I don't have time for this. Here Siri, give this to that stupid friend of yours. I'd like to keep my Dark Arts seat next to Cissy and Malfoy's been eyeing it like the vulture he is," You throw James's scarf to your cousin's head not caring if it covers his vision, it earns a few chuckles from nearby students. He trashes to take it off and looks at you in betrayal.

You're about to run off to Dark Arts and leave your cousin and his foolish mates when your feet stop and turn you back, "If you still want that date to happen. Expect my owl, Potter. She's a snow named Emerald."

"Oh and it is lovely to meet you, Remus. Do take care of my sod cousin and my idiot boyfriend. Make sure they're out of trouble," You smiled sincerely at Remus, you actually do admire him a little. You love dark arts and your professor rants and rants about Remus's talents.

Remus seems taken aback, but that would make the three of them. You left after he reciprocated your smile and responded with a polite, "You too, (Y/N)."

And as such, you scurried off in a rush to go shoo away Lucius Malfoy from your seat and save Narcissa. Leaving behind a bewildered Remus, an angered Sirius, and a lovestruck James.

James keeps his eyes on you until you turn the corridor, a stupidly huge smile stays on his lips. He turns to find the reality of Sirius's wrath upon him. Remus is quite literally holding back Sirius with his whole body, it's quite an advantageous turn of events that Sirius hasn't had his proper sleep yet.

"Boyfriend! Boyfriend?! When did you even– How is this— Let me go, Moony! He's going to have an earful!"

He definitely will get that earful later. James grins an apologetic smile at Remus as he picks up his scarf that fell to the ground. He could already smell the sweet of your scent from a distance.

Remus lets out a huffed noise, "You really do always get what you want don't you?"

James doesn't reply. He wraps his own scarf on his neck, embracing the warmth it does to his skin. Your scent crashes onto him like tidal waves. A tint of rose blooms on the pale of his cheeks.

He smiles faintly at the open skies over the hall window. He wishes for an owl he hadn't even met for safe travels.

[misswynters]

Princess and her knight

Gwayne Hightower x targ!fem!reader

[warnings: mdni (18+) sensual kissing, touching, fingering, semi-public, almost getting caught

[word count: 1.3k

[note | fixed my writing. pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

You stood on the balcony of your chambers, overlooking the bustling city below. The cool breeze tugged at your silver hair, a stark contrast to the warmth that seemed to radiate from within her. You were lost in thought when you heard the soft footsteps behind you.

"Your grace," came a familiar voice, deep and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

You turned to see Gwayne Hightower standing at the entrance to her chambers. The son of the former Hand of the King, he was tall and broad-shouldered, his green eyes intense as they met hers. There was a tension between you, an unspoken desire that had been growing with each stolen glance and whispered conversation.

"Ser Gwayne," you replied, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "To what do I owe this visit?"

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving your. "I wished to speak with you. Away from prying eyes and listening ears."

Your heart quickened as he closed the distance between the two of you. You could feel the heat of his body, the scent of leather and steel mingling with something uniquely him. "And what is it you wish to speak about?"

His eyes darkened with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "You, I've thought of little else."

Before you could respond, Gwayne reached out, his hand cupping your cheek. The touch was gentle, but the fire in his eyes spoke of a deeper yearning. "Do you feel it too?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. "I do."

The last vestiges of restraint crumbled as Gwayne leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and insistent. You melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, your mouths moving together in a dance of desire that left you both breathless.

Gwayne's hands roamed over your back, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your heart race. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to catch his breath. "My princess," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

You shook your head, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Don't stop. Show me just how much you want me." you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

With a growl of hunger, Gwayne's lips found yours again, more urgent this time. He kissed his way down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips as he nipped and kissed his way to your collarbone. Your hands slid down to his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath the fabric of his tunic.

Gwayne's hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the edge of the balcony railing. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as his lips continued their journey down your body. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of them, lost in a sea of passion and longing.

His breath continued to get heavy. "I crave you, ___. Every kiss, every touch only makes me want you more." he whispered into your ear as he slightly tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

His hands found the laces of your dress, pulling them lose with practiced ease. The dress now cascaded over your shoulders, exposing them to the moonlight. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of her before lowering his lips to your exposed skin. Each kiss sent a jolt of pleasure through you, building an inferno of desire that threatened to consume them both. Your fingers fumbled with the clasps of his tunic, your need to feel his skin against yours overwhelming.

Gwayne helped you, discarding the garment before pulling you into another searing kiss. Your bodies pressed together, the heat between you almost unbearable.

As your kisses grew more heated, Gwayne's hands moved lower, exploring every inch of you with such desire that it made your heart ache. You could feel his need for you, mirrored in your own desperate longing. The world outside was forgotten; there was only the two of them, their hearts and bodies entwined in a dance of passion that knew no bounds.

Gwayne trailed his fingering across your body, finally setting underneath your dress. He teased the spot in between your thighs, trying to gain a reaction for you. You were struggling to keep your face straight from showing any pleasure, you didn’t want anyone to hear. You grabbed a hold on his arm, leaning towards him. You took your free arm and wrapped it around his neck. “My beautiful girl” he lowly moaned against your ear as you kissed his neck.

“Are you trying to silence yourself?” He asked as he continued his trail of kisses down your neck. You was lost in please unable to think about what he said. You continued to ride his fingers trying to catch your release. However, once gwayne took noticed, he stopped. Whining against him, you pulled herself away. You both were now left heavily panting as they catched their breaths. The moonlight shined against his face, casting an everlasting light on him. He looked devilishly handsome. Gwayne leaned forward again, pushing his lips against you once again. The night had deepened, and the fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting a warm glow over your entwined forms.

Lost in the depths of their passion, the two of you barely registered the sounds of the bustling keep around yourselves. It wasn't until you heard the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps approaching the chamber door that reality crashed back in.

Gwayne froze, his lips still pressed against your skin, as the footsteps grew louder. "Someone's coming," he whispered urgently, his breath hot against your ear.

Your eyes widened, the fog of desire lifting just enough for panic to set in. "Quick, hide," you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency.

Gwayne moved swiftly, grabbing his discarded tunic and slipping into the shadows behind a large tapestry that hung on the wall. You hurriedly adjusted your dress, smoothing the fabric and hastily tying the laces that Gwayne had so expertly undone moments before.

Just as you composed yourself, the door swung open, and a young servant girl entered, her eyes wide with worry.

"Your grace, I apologize for the intrusion," she began, her voice breathless. "Your father requests your presence in the council chamber immediately."

You forced a calm smile, though your heart was still racing. "Thank you, Ellyn. Inform my father I will be there shortly."

The servant girl nodded, her eyes flicking briefly to the scattered garments on the floor before she quickly retreated, closing the door behind her. The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving the room in tense silence.

Gwayne emerged from his hiding place, his expression a mix of relief and lingering desire. "That was close," he said, his voice low and laced with frustration.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed from more than just your earlier passion. "Too close," she agreed, stepping into his embrace once more.

"But we must be careful. We cannot afford to be discovered."

Gwayne cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching hers. "I know, ___. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. How much I need you."

You leaned into his touch, your heart aching with the intensity of your feelings.

"I feel the same way, Gwayne. More than you know." You shared a brief, tender kiss, a promise of what was to come. But the urgency of the council meeting weighed heavily on your mind.

With a reluctant sigh, you pulled back, straightening your dress once more. "I must go," you said softly.

Gwayne nodded, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer before he stepped back. "Be safe, my princess," he murmured.

You gave him one last, longing look before you left your chamber, your heart still racing from their close call. The night might have been interrupted, but your desire for each other burned brighter than ever, a flame that would not be easily extinguished.

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