#mr. ben x reader

[bonezone44]

✨Pedro Stories Secret Santa✨

'Educational Benefits' (18+)

Mr. Ben x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4250

Tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, oral (f receiving), protected p-in-v, sweet inexperienced!Ben, experienced Reader

for my PedroStories Secret Santa: @musings-of-a-rose 🙏 I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Within the first few months of teaching at St. Lawrence High School, you developed an arrangement with the Algebra teacher, Mr. Ben. And it was full of a lot more surprises than you had anticipated….

-----

It was Friday afternoon after a long, arduous semester at St. Lawrence High School. The students were always the most restless before winter break, anxious to be out enjoying the snow. You tried desperately to get some quiet time to grade their final exams by putting on a movie, but you spent most of your time shushing them. You had to use your free period to finish grading instead. When you really wanted to use that time to get organized for next semester. You sighed. ‘So much for that.’ 

By three o'clock, you had been staring at columns of numbers for so long, your brain started to twist in on itself. Your body ached, your stomach growled, the dim winter sun begged for you to wrap yourself in a soft, fluffy blanket. But much like the school children, you were too antsy for that. Too much time spent curled around your desk. Too much work-work-work. 

But unlike your students, you had no intention of spending your evening playing in the snow. You needed time away from the icy roads and flurried skies. You needed to stay warm. Quite warm. You needed to get laid.

You made your way down the main hall, the clack of your shoes echoing out. You passed your favorite coworker's classroom just as he was packing up. You had to grit your teeth at the sight of his broad shoulders moving beneath his black sweater as he loaded notebooks into his satchel. Your arms wanted to wrap around his middle and pull him close. Your hands wanted to slip beneath his waistband. Your tongue wanted to trace his scruffy jawline and your teeth wanted to playfully tug on his ear. 

It took a long deep breath to bring you out of your fantasy and into the present.

“Hey, Ben,” you called casually, as if you hadn't just fucked him three different ways in your mind.

He glanced over his shoulder with one questioning eyebrow raised. He brightened at the sight of you, a wide smile on his lips. “Hey! What's up?” He tossed another folder in his bag and zipped it closed. 

“Exhausted,” you groaned. “How are you?”

Ben laughed. “I'm about the same. I can't wait to get out of here.”

“Me, too.” You pressed your fingers to your eyelids. “My eyes are burning from submitting grades.”

“Oh yeah, I can't wait to get away from these screens.” He slipped the strap of his bag around his shoulder and headed in your direction.

You leaned back from the door to check the hallway–empty. You lowered your voice to be safe. “You going out to Tilly's tonight?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a smirk. Then with sudden concern, “Are you?”

“Of course!”

“Good.” He nodded, looking you up and down and biting his lip. “Good.” 

You giggled as he joined you at the door. “Also, I'm excited to see what Ms. Ladner's like with a few drinks in her.”

Ben stopped in his tracks, throwing his head back in laughter. “Oh, you're gonna love it. I promise you.” He turned off the light and closed the door to his classroom, still snickering to himself. 

“I'll see you there around seven?” You grinned.

“Don't worry,” he nodded. “I'll be there.”

—-

Three drinks in and Ms. Ladner, the school's biology teacher of thirty years, was on stage singing karaoke at the top of her lungs: an operatic version of “I'm Every Woman” by Chaka Khan. Her cheeks were bright pink. Gray curls stuck to the edges of her forehead with sweat. Her usual red lipstick was long gone and her dark blue eyeliner had started to smudge. 

You and Ben clapped and cheered from the crowd with the rest of the teachers and staff who chose to attend the celebration that evening. Two weeks. No school. No students. The bar, Tilly's, was the gang's regular choice. 

Back at the table, Jeff, the P.E. teacher, and Mr. Menendez, who taught history, began arguing over which fuel in their grills made for better steak. 

“The heat distribution is just as even with coal,” argued Jeff.

“Nononono,” Mr. Menendez shook his head fervently. “No it is not. You are a caveman!” He yelled down at the table, rocking back and forth in his chair.

Jeff turned to him in bright offense. “I'm not a caveman–”

“You are! You are a Neolithic peasant!” he spat. “You burn dirty rocks to char your sad little flanks of animal flesh you purchase for yourself at the Wal-Mart!” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his thick beige sweater vest. “Be a man of the future, you coward!” He slammed his fist down on the table. “Propane burns clean and pure!” 

Jeff pinched his fingers together. “What is more pure than tradition, Miguel? What is more pure than-than-than digging with my bare hands from the earth–”

Mr. Menendez burped and continued to shake his head.

Jeff's eyes grew wide. “--and discovering a-a-a rock that can hold fire, huh? What's more pure than that?”

“It is filthy! It is filth to cook with coal! God gave us propane to save us from the muck! To render us free from the dirty, dirty ground! Peasant!” He shouted, his gaze fixed on the sticky table. “You are a peasant!”

“This is getting weird,” Ben spoke to you out of the side of his mouth. 

“Oh, Ben? And what say you? Hmm?” Asked Mr. Menendez, his eyes suddenly pierced and focused at the man across the table. “How do you fuel the fire within?”

You covered your mouth as you laughed at Ben suddenly squirming in his seat next to you, fidgeting with the collar of his bright blue button-up. “Uhh… well, if we're still talking about grills, I don't –I don't have one.”

“What?!” Jeff jumped from his seat.

“How do you call yourself a man?!” Mr. Menendez cried with disdain.

Ben furrowed his brow. “Well, I live in an apartment aaand I don't have a balcony or anything.”

“Oh.” Jeff retreated. He adjusted the waistband of his track pants and sat back down.

Mr. Menendez was less assured. “A real man would find a way.” He raised his finger in the air. “A real man would use propane to find a way.”

Jeff scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes,  turning to the aging man at his side. “How is propane more manly than coal?!” 

You leaned over Ben's shoulder. “I don't know how much more I can take of this–” 

“Yeah, me, either,” he murmured, one of his fingers nudging your knee beneath the table.

Ms. Ladner joined the group, shoving herself into the booth seat next to you and in turn, shoving you into Ben. Fire burst through you to be so close to him in front of your co-workers. You had both been doing your best to keep a polite distance before scurrying away to his place at the end of the evening. 

“I'm so glad you came!” Ms. Ladner cheered, alcohol strong on her breath. “I love it when young new teachers join the good fight!” 

You laughed, feeling trapped. Should you move closer to Ben or closer to Ms. Ladner, who was yelling in your ear? “Well, I'm not that young–” you began. 

“Oh, you're all young to me!” Ms. Ladner giggled. “Young and fresh! Right, Menendez?” She turned to face him.

“Infants!” He threw his finger up. “All of you!”

Ms. Ladner cackled and kicked her feet. “Jeffrey!” She shouted and reached across the table with desperate fingers. “What do you think of her?”

Your stomach dropped. You barely knew Jeff at all. This was your first time socializing with him outside of school.

Jeff's eyes bugged and his mouth dropped. “I uhh… ummm….”

“It's–It's fine!” You offered a polite smile and waved your hand. “You don't have to answer!” 

“Oh come on!” Ms. Ladner pressed. “Feedback is important to the development of our new teachers!” 

You attempted to correct her. “Well, I'm not new to teaching–” 

Ben piped up. “I've been hearing good things from her students.”

“Really?” Ms. Ladner brought her hands to her chest with delight. “Oh that is so good to hear!” She rested her head on your shoulder. Her curls smelled like coconuts.

You laughed uncomfortably. “Uh… who is driving you home, Ms. Ladner?” 

“Mr. Johnson!” She popped up with cheer. 

“Yeah! Mr. Johnson!” Jeff raised his empty beer glass. 

“Mr. Johnson!” raved Mr. Menendez. 

“The… the principal?” You asked.

“Mhmm,” she nodded. “Mr. Johnson comes by every year at eleven o'clock and takes all us saps home,” she grinned and sighed wistfully. “And then he uses it as blackmail for the rest of the year to get us to do his bidding.” She giggled with evil glee. She grabbed your drink and raised it in the air. “To Mr. Johnson!”

Jeff, Mr. Menendez and Ben raised their glasses as well, cheering together. “To Mr. Johnson!”

Jeff drank from his empty glass. Mr. Menendez chewed on the remaining melting ice cubes in his drink. Ben sipped his soda. And Ms. Ladner finished the rest of your cocktail–which was mostly water at that point.

You rolled your eyes and dropped your face in your hands–more than done with the festivities and liquored-up bonding rituals. You wanted to spend time with Ben before you really got tired. “You know, it's getting kind of late–”

“No, don't go, yet!” Ms. Ladner pouted, her face contorting into that of a sad child. “Stay!” She cried out and wrapped her arms around your shoulders, the weight of her slamming you further into Ben. You grabbed his thigh to keep yourself upright.

Ben's warm fingers found your own. “Yeah, I think I might head out, too.” He said with his eyes on everyone but you. You felt fire burning through you all over again.

“Oh, but I'll miss you!” Said Ms. Ladner. “I'll miss you both so much!” She squeezed you tighter.

You were close enough to Ben that his laughter vibrated through you–sending sparks of excitement along your skin. But being constricted by Ms. Ladner nearly dulled the experience. And while you enjoyed her drunken fondness for you, you would much rather spend time with Ben. It had become more than necessary over the course of the evening–feeling overwhelmed by experiencing the somewhat unappealing side of your new work family. 

“I'll miss you, too, Ms. Ladner,” you pried her arms from around you. 

It took about twenty minutes for you and Ben to say your goodbyes to the crowded bar, declining offers for more drinks. One more teacher decided to leave, as well, which you were quietly grateful for. 

“Have a good night, Lisa!” You called out as you walked to your car.

“You, too!” She sang back. “See you next year!” 

“Night, Ben!” You waved across the parking lot.

“Good night!” He waved back just as casually.

—--

Your lips were on Ben's as soon as he opened his apartment door, only stopping to prevent yourself from stumbling.

“I have been waiting for this all day,” you murmured into his mouth. You stepped back with wide eyes. “I-I mean, it's just… been a while and stuff,” you let out a breathy laugh.

Ben grinned with sparkling eyes. “Yeah, I'm excited, too.” He circled his arm behind your waist and guided you in. 

His touch was more than welcome, but not enough. You shucked off your layers, tossing your coat, scarf, and hat on his kitchen counter. “I'm gonna freshen up real quick and try to get some of Ms. Ladner's sweat off of me,” you clapped your hands with a smile. “If you wanna meet me in the bedroom.” You walked backwards further into his home. “I have a surprise for you.”

He scratched the back of his neck, his lips curling up around the edges. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” 

You scurried to the bathroom with your handbag in giddy excitement. You undressed and pulled out your feminine wipes to do a quick cleaning of the important areas. You rolled your favorite perfume on the back of your neck. You changed into the lingerie you packed and slipped on a silky black miniskirt. You felt sexy and confident when you looked in the mirror. You couldn't wait to show Ben.

When you peeked into his room, Ben was sitting at the end of his bed still fully clothed, bobbing his head to the music coming out of his stereo. He smiled brightly at the sight of you.

“What do you think?” You asked, fingertips moving along the strap of your blue mesh bra. “You like the surprise?”

“Yeah!” He nodded. “It's freaky! I'm into it!”

A laugh burst out of you before you could stop it. “Ben!” All the heat in the room escaping. “Oh my god!” You huffed.

“What?” He whined, his excited gaze never leaving your chest.

You put your hands on your hips, shaking your head with a warm smile. “If you think this bra is freaky, I don't know what you're gonna say about my crotchless underwear.”

“...what?” he asked again, only this time with doe eyes and a gaping mouth.

You covered your mouth and laughed. “You are so pure!” You stomped forward and wrapped your arms around his head, bringing his face to your bosom. His curls smelled like cologne and his thin beard scratched your exposed skin. “What kind if porn do you even watch?” God, he was so adorable.

“I… I don't watch porn.”

“Wait... what?” You pull away from him and grab his face in your hands–staring into his big brown eyes for clarity. 

“I don't watch porn,” he repeated.

“Why not?”

“W-Well…” He stuttered a moment trying to find the right words. “I-isnt that a good thing? Porn is like… degrading to women and wrong and stuff.”

You squeezed his cheeks together in the palms of your hands and pouted. “You are so freaking cute, Ben.”

“What?” He slurred through his bulging cheeks. He truly seemed lost. 

“Ben!” You dropped his face and put your hands on your hips again. “I know you were not a virgin when I met you.”

“Of course not, but–”

“So what did you do with your ex-girlfriends?”

“Well…” He straightened his posture. “That's private.”

You giggled. “I'm not asking for the juicy details. But like… what? Did you guys just do missionary the whole time? Have you even done it doggy-style?”

He pouted and shrugged. “I wanted to see their face.”

“Ben!” You were tickled to pieces. “You are so precious! Oh my god!” 

“I-I don't understand what's happening…”

You blinked and rubbed your hands together. “Oh my god, we have so much to cover.” 

“Cover?”

“I have so much I wanna show you!” You stared into his big eyes with devilish enthusiasm. “I mean, do you even know why the students call you Daddy?”

“I figured it's because I'm old,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Wait!” He looked at you in horror. “It's the sex thing?!”

“Noo!! Nonono!!” You braced his shoulders.

He dropped his head in his hands. “I don't know if I can have this conversation. I don't know if I can have sex anymore.”

“No! Listen listen listen.” You whined and tried to save yourself. You needed this. You really needed this. “Ben, you know, kids are kids and the students don't really understand what they're saying half the time and they just kinda repeat whatever they hear from adults and it's not really a sex thing to them.” You stared off. “Maybe it's more of a kink thing kind of–”

“What's the difference?!” He stared at you bewildered.

“Shit! No! It's not–it's not like that, okay? Kink isn't necessarily sexual!” You waved your palms at him as you kept digging yourself into a hole. “Let’s just–let’s start over, okay? We made this whole arrangement so we didn’t have to think about work and we could just be adults and have a-a-a good time.” You forced a smile, wringing your hands together. “We’re just two adults alone in your apartment and-and-and we’re gonna enjoy some time together, okay?”

He closed his eyes and released a heavy breath. He seemed stable when he opened them again. “Okay. Yes. You’re right. We can do this.”

“Yes!” You clapped your hands together. “We can do this.”

He reached forward, slowly, and patted your bare stomach with his palms.

“...what are you doing?” You looked down at him confused.

“I-I have no idea.” He shook his head dumbly. “I don’t know what to do now.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. The students may call him ‘Daddy’, but he was not one for taking control. Something you should have picked up on from the beginning. You placed your hands on top of his. “How’s this?” you asked and guided his hands down your skirt and around to the back of your thighs. You stepped between his legs, nudging his knees further apart. He took the cue and began moving his big hands up and down your thighs. You ran your fingers across his scalp, through the light gel in his curls. “Is that better?”

He nodded, pressing a kiss near your belly button. His lips trailed down and he kissed your mound through your skirt. “Can I–” he coughed and cleared his throat. “Can I see what’s underneath?” 

You smirked and wrapped your fingers around the bottom of your skirt, slowly rolling it up to expose yourself. He looked up at you in shock, ears turning pink in the dim light of his room. The blue underwear was mesh like your bra with a satin ribbon edge. It covered your mound and split at the bottom exposing your labia. You lifted your leg and rested your foot next to his thigh on the bed. You nudged him with your toes. “Do you like it?”

He nodded speechless.

“Do you wanna taste it?” you asked. 

His eyes were locked to yours as he moved forward. The tip of his tongue leaving his mouth, probing into your folds. His hands moved up your thighs to your ass, fingers digging through the fabric of your panties and squeezing you closer. 

“Oh wow,” you breathed out. You’re not sure if it was his skill or your touch-starved pussy, but his mouth felt like wet heaven.

He closed his eyes, dug his tongue deeper into your folds, rolling it against your clit in steady passes. You ran your fingers across the back of his head and pet him with tender wonder. You had been the one to ask him out for coffee. You had been the one to start talking about old relationships. And after hearing his series of heartbreaks, you had been the one to propose the idea of a strictly physical relationship. You had a long line of heartbreaks, too. You knew you shouldn’t fool around with a co-worker, but he was too delicious and too open for you to say ‘no’ to.

A finger sliding against your entrance shook you from your thoughts. “Wait,” you gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Ben stopped touching you immediately, worry evident on his brow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay.” You leaned down and kissed his wet lips, licking into his mouth and tasting your own slick. “I need to lie down so I don’t fall over.”

“Yeah?” Ben’s face showed a boyish excitement.

You giggled. He was too sweet. You crawled into the bed and spread your legs and Ben crawled between them. He sucked two of his thick fingers into his mouth and pulled them back out glistening. He started with one finger, slowly pressing it into your entrance and twisting his hand around. 

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, biting his lip. He leaned back down, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue as his finger prodded you. 

You rolled your hips into his mouth. His other hand pressed you into the mattress, pinning you in place. A second finger joined his first and you breathed through the stretch. He sucked and laved at your clit, his fingers moving in and out of you slowly. You had been prepared to guide him through it, having some questions about his level of experience. But he worked his mouth on you like an expert. Tonguing and slurping all your nerve endings, sending your toes curling. Holding you in place like he had something to prove. And maybe he did. And you were more than willing to listen.

“Want me to grab a condom?” he asked, your slick covering the lower half of his face.

“Yes, please!” You grinned. “And if you’re willing…” You sat up and got on all fours.

Ben’s face turned red as he stood at his nightstand. He covered his face with his hand and sighed. “Okay, okay,” he laughed. He shucked off his clothes, nearly falling over as he tugged on the boxer briefs that caught on his foot. He kneeled behind you on the bed, rolling on the condom. “For the record, I’m only doing this because you asked,” he said. “I would rather be looking at your face.”

You laughed, looking at him over your shoulder. “I think you’ll enjoy this, Ben.” You smirked. “Maybe you’ll learn something new about yourself.”

“I–” he stopped and sighed. His skin was warm against your back as he propped himself up above you. “Maybe you’re right, actually,” he murmured and kissed your shoulder. He pressed his cock against your entrance, slowly thrusting in.

“Holy shit,” you sighed, his girth pressing against all your inner points of pleasure. The stretch of him was a release–weeks of tension throughout your body unfurling and sprawling outward. You had forgotten how it felt to be penetrated by him. The reminder was delectable.

“How’s that? Is that good?”

“Oh my god, yes.” You began pushing your hips back into his, wanting him deeper.

“Yeah? You like that?” He whispered.

You fell forward, hiding your smirk in his sheets. “More, please, Ben,” you said after turning your face to the side.

His hips rolled and flicked into you. “Shit,” he gasped, his hands gripping your hips. 

This really was new for him, you could feel the hesitancy in his thrusts and you moaned in encouragement–and also because it felt so so good. You reached back, squeezing his hand in yours and his thrusts grew stronger, harsher, shoving you downward just the way you liked. It was very different than the other two times you had sex. “Oh my god. Ben!” you cried, his hips loudly slapping against your ass. You groaned. “Please don't stop!”

“Yeah? You like that?” His voice still at half volume.

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, toes curling all over again. You can’t imagine how this must be for him. Someone so new, so adventurous. Fucking them through their panties. Maybe this was what you needed, too. Someone to guide and explore with instead of constantly performing for. Shit, you were thinking too much. You–

Ben’s hands groped harshly at your breasts. His sweaty chest heavy on your back. His breath in your ear. “Is this what you wanted, baby?”

You whimpered, one hand holding you up and one hand on his. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, baby.”

“Pleasepleaseplease” You didn’t care that you hadn’t come, yet. The night wasn’t over. You felt it as he gasped, his cock pumping and throbbing into you–into the condom, really. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said. 

You turned around after he pulled out. The tip of the condom was full of his white load. 

“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t like me,” he said with his head in his hands.

“Ben! No!” Your heart collapsed. He looked so remorseful. You wrapped your arms around him. “That was wonderful! That was fantastic!”

“But I finished before you–”

“So what? That felt amazing!”

“I don’t know.” He squirmed.

“Look at me, Ben.”

He complied. His eyes were blurry and his brows were twisted.

“What are you worried about?” You softly pet his broad shoulders.

“I-I feel like I used you or something–”

“Well, that’s what sex is sometimes.”

“I don’t know.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Look, Ben. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable doing, but you didn’t do anything wrong. We made this arrangement to have sex without all the emotional attachments.” Even as you said it, you could feel yourself anchoring your heart to his. “I encouraged you. You didn’t cross any of my boundaries. I want you to feel safe exploring a different way of having sex.”

“Okay, okay.” He took a deep breath, nodding. “I just don’t wanna disrespect you.” He grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Ben…”  You melted. “Even if you do disrespect me, we’ll talk about it.”

His big brown eyes looked hopeful.

“We’ll do some conflict resolution and figure it out.” You shrugged. “The problem is if you keep disrespecting me again and again. Then, yeah.” You nodded. “That’s something to be upset about.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, seemingly appeased. “Okay.”

“Now… You do have to get your mouth back down there–” you pointed between your legs. “And make me come at least twice before I leave.”

Ben let go of your hand, laughing. “I can do that.”

“Good.” You grinned. “Now get to it, bucko!”

He spread your legs with the palms of his hands, kissing between your legs as if he was kissing you on the mouth. Deep, hungry, fervent.

—----------------------

[exquisiteserotonin]

Ternion

Word count: 3.3K

Pairing: Young Mr. Ben SNL(as a TA, Grad Assistant)xFemale ReaderxProfessor Jonathan Levy Scenes From a Marriage

Rating: E! For explicit (18+ only, MDNI)

Warnings: Threesome, Power Imbalance, Brat Taming, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), somewhat degrading actions

Summary: Your friend and fellow graduate assistant Ben asks you to come over to his place for help with another task that your overbearing advising professor, Jonathan Levy, has dumped on the both of you.

A/N: I don’t typically subscribe to the whole professor student thing, but this was begging to be written and I hope this means I am out of my funk and my damn season of writer’s block is over. I hope you enjoy and as always reblog, comment, engage! I would love to hear from you!

And to my sluts thank you as always for giving me your magic! @magpiepillsjunior @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @for-a-longlongtime

Ternion

Ternion: a group of three, a triad; a section of a paper of book containing three double leaves or twelve pages

Your eyes were beginning to glaze over as you stared at your laptop screen. It was another long afternoon of compiling participant demographics and data from your advising professor’s study in your closet of an office. You closed your laptop a little harder than you should have as you began to pack up for the day. The parking lot behind your building was nearly empty, most students having left for the day. As you drove home, you had visions of cozying up on the couch with your blanket, drinking an adult beverage, and binge watching your favorite tv show.

You were only a few miles from your house, when the infotainment screen in your car flashed with a familiar contact: Ben, your office mate and fellow graduate assistant. Deliberation coursed through the pads of your fingertips and against your better judgment you answered.

“Hey Ben, what’s up?”

“Hey,” his voice echoed with a hesitancy, “Professor Levy asked me a for a favor and I—“

“Are you serious, Ben?” You groaned in exasperation. “This is such bullshit. ”

“I know, I know—I hate to ask but would you come over and help me out?”

Say no. Say no. Say no, your brain said on repeat. Desperation wafted from his hushed voice in a way that immediately unlocked your kindness. You just knew he was pouting, running his hands through his chocolate brown hair while somehow making his already big eyes even bigger, like glassy orbs of whiskey on ice: against your silent protests that he NOT be so easy to say yes to. But aside from that he was also the kind of colleague who’d help you out in a pinch…and too damn attractive for his own good. It certainly made having him as your office mate interesting and frustrating at times.

You gripped the steering wheel before announcing your decision.

“Well, I was legitimately on my way home,” you replied with a deliberately loud sigh. “But yeah, sure.”

It was a bitch move, you knew, but you needed your displeasure to be known. A small part of you felt bad about being so vocal with your frustration. It wasn’t Ben’s fault, but he needed to know the inconvenience of it all. You would not be at your professor’s beck and call. Especially on a goddamn Friday night.

“Just give me some time to head over,” you huffed and added, “I can’t be over there in a snap like Professor Levy would want.

“Hey now,” Ben spoke in a firm whisper that somehow still held a hint of kindness despite your bite, “don’t shoot the messenger.”

You turned the car around and headed to Ben’s house. You found parking on the street and walked up the stairs to the door of his small Brownstone. You pushed the doorbell and found yourself brushing your hands through your waves and cautiously smelling yourself.

Passable. You thought to yourself.

Then he answered the door, emerging in a snug navy blue v-neck and loose gray sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips. A hint of skin teased you between the hem of his shirt and the elastic of his pants. They held onto his hips for dear life with nothing but the insurance of a haphazardly tied drawstring. You nearly whimpered at the sight of him.

What a fucking tease. Get a hold yourself, woman.

You breezed through his door without a word, trying to quell your craving and channel it to the frustration you felt with your advising professor. This was his fault anyway.

“Um…hello to you, too,” he greeted.

Your hands were placed firmly on your hips when you turned back to face him. One of his brows was cocked at you, already waiting for another snarky response. You couldn’t help but pout back at him. He knew you too well.

“Just like him to not give you a weekend off,” you huffed.

“You don‘t even know what I‘m going to ask you,” his voice was low and sterner than you had ever heard before. “I‘m starting to think you like a little fight.“

The way his eyes bore into you was so deep, it was nearly a glare. He held his chin up in the slightest way, arrogant enough that it demanded your attention to his strong neck. It wasn’t long before you felt tiny sparks of electricity traveling over every inch of skin of your body. It didn’t help that he stood with his hips pushed forward in the most arrogant and un-Ben-like way.

“Wow, if only you could give a little bit of that attitude back to Professor Levy,” you said with some bite and unconstrained breathiness.

Conveying the facade of confidence was important. Especially in situations like this.

Ben stepped forward, his shirt and sweatpants clinging against his body in exactly the right way.

“You’re only proving me right,” he purred, now only inches from you.

Do not moan. Do not moan. Do not moan.

“Just give her what we know she needs, Ben,” you heard a polished voice command from the shadows of another room.

A different kind of heat crept over your face and neck after hearing the familiar voice.

What were the chances?

You looked towards the shadows to see Professor Levy swaggering towards you. He pushed forward a few steps, placing his hands in his trousers pockets before leaning against the wall to watch you. His eyes were low and piercing and he licked his lips that rested beneath his salt and pepper beard.

“Of course he’s here,” it came out as the repressed moan you were fighting against.

Professor Levy nodded towards Ben in acknowledgment of some kind of unspoken agreement. Faster than you could think or speak, Ben pulled your body tightly against his, grinding against you as he pressed his lips to yours in a hungry and greedy kiss.

You didn’t expect for Ben’s lips to feel as soft as they did. They were even softer when he parted yours with a firm lick of his tongue. The heat rose within you as his large hands wrapped around your waist, finding your skin beneath your shirt as he pressed your bodies even closer together. With every move he demanded you feel every twitch of his cock for you.

“W—wait!” You gasped, pushing him from you.

Your eyes moved from Ben to Professor Levy, a strange mix of unbridled desire and anxiousness stirring in the lowest part of your stomach. Ben’s thick fingers managed to keep a possessive grip on your hips that you didn’t brush away, despite the way your brain was spinning in want of answers.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You demanded of both of them.

The two men shared another knowing look that stoked the flame of your frustration. Professor Levy raised an eyebrow before removing his glasses and wiping them on a cloth he pulled from his shirt pocket. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him as he strutted towards you, his fingers weaving through the gunmetal ringlets of his hair. You rolled your eyes with disdain for his insufferable ways of working, but found yourself burning from your center with intrigue at what those fingers might be able to work on you.

“Always with the snark,” your professor directed the words towards Ben who responded with a shrug and a smirk.

“You will not talk about me like I’m not in the room,” you paused, turning to him and holding your eyes directly to his, “Jonathan.”

He one more large stride forward until he, too, was inches from you.

“I think you mean professor,” he commanded, continuing to advance on you until you backed into Ben.

A moan escaped you as Ben stood like a wall behind you. With your chest heaving up and down, Professor Levy brushed a strand of hair from your face with his long, lithe fingers. Yet they didn‘t stop there. The heat continued to rise from the three of you as the professor‘s hand journeyed down the curve of your body until they met Ben‘s at your hip. They shared a look of longing before turning that desire towards you. And in the strangest turn of events, the professor’s lips were on yours with his tongue paying adoration to your pouty lower lip.

Unable to contain the desire that trembled within, you let out a long, loud whimper as Professor Levy gently trapped your lower lip with his teeth. You already thought the feeling of Ben’s throbbing cock at your lower back was enough to drive you mad, but somehow you knew you were going to be pushed to your limit the moment Professor Levy took your hand to his pants until he pushed your palm to feel him twitch with desire for you.

The part of your brain that held your common sense screamed at you, demanding you not give him the satisfaction. But every other part of it, along with every part of your body, beckoned you to give in. The feeling of Ben’s massive hand moving to the front of your waist was followed by his thick fingers inching towards the front of your jeans. You couldn’t help but pant as you felt his hot breath brush the back of your neck.

“You can’t tell me that this isn’t better than the fight you put up,” Ben’s voice came to your ear in a low growl.

He wasn’t wrong. But ever true to yourself, you bit your lip and replied with a little extra spice, “I think that remains to be seen.”

Your words made Ben snap his hips forward against you with a gravelly moan. Within Professor Levy’s mahogany eyes you could see from his heavy-lidded stare the desire the two men held for each other while searching for their reason to include you.

Professor Levy lifted your chin with a push of two strong fingers, silently ordering you to look squarely into his bespectacled eyes before he spoke, “You definitely need to be taught a lesson.”

You found yourself following him to Ben’s large leather couch, with Ben close behind you, his fingers intertwined in yours. Professor Levy took his place first like a king warming his throne. He smirked as he taunted you by unbuttoning his shirt. He manipulated each button with skillful fingers until he slipped it off and let it fall to the living room floor. He spread his legs wide as he sat, smoothing his hands over the soft fabric of pants that covered his strong thighs.

Ben nibbled playfully at your neck and then your ear with desperate and needy breaths. His warm hands slowly slid beneath your shirt, moving upwards until he massaged your breasts with paws massive enough that they made them feel small. Before you could even think your shirt was gone followed by your bra.

Professor Levy beckoned you to him as he rubbed his thighs, “Come sit here…now.”

This time, you submitted without a fight, feeling the way your skin nearly melted into his as you let your back rest against his chest. His beard tickled the skin of your ear as he licked at the bottom of it. His supple fingertips reached under your arms until they found the altar of your nipples. You rolled back against him as he tortuously began to caress, flick, and pinch them even slower and more skillfully than he had with the buttons of his shirt.

“Ben,” your professor called to your colleague, friend…inevitable lover, “come here.”

You dragged your nails along the waist of his low slung sweatpants while he lifted his shirt over his head. You kept your fingers just above his waistband while he leaned over the couch towards you and your professor. It was mesmerizing to watch how these two beautiful men looked at each other with such intimacy and longing as you lay between them. Your professor took a hand from your nipples and brought it possessively to the back of Ben’s neck, pulling his face to his before licking his bottom lip and pressing onto his mouth for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“Fuck.”

There were no other words you had that could possibly convey the carnal state of desire you had fallen into. Hungrily, you pulled at the drawstrings of Ben’s sweatpants before reaching your hand to the waistband. In a lightning fast move, your professor pulled it away, squeezing your fingers between his.

“Tsk, tsk, not without my express permission,” Professor Levy scolded in a low, buttery whisper.

Slowly, Ben positioned himself at your legs, his hands caressing your waist until he began rubbing your professor’s thighs with you. Professor Levy grabbed Ben’s hand and squeezed it before lowering his eyes to him.

He spoke with unwavering confidence coating every word as he gave Ben a command that sent shivers spiraling outward from your wet center.

“Taste her.”

The wanton darkness that overcame Ben’s eyes and the smirk that curled the corner of his upper lip coaxed your heart and your pussy to throb even more than you anticipated. Your professor’s demand spurred Ben to pull off your jeans and underwear even faster than you could put any thoughts together. You sat naked between the two men in so many more ways than you’d imagined you ever would be. Through your dizzying thoughts, Ben placed a firm grip on your legs pressing them a part.

Any words you thought you could form in your head only came out in quick, pulsing gasps. An unbridled heat spread all over your body as you felt Ben’s broad fingers handle your outer lips until they began to line themselves up at your slit.

“Jonathan, she’s so fucking wet,” his voice was hushed and his breath was so hot against your pussy.

Professor Levy’s response came out in a guttural moan that met your body by way of hands continuing to work on your nipples. The theme of surprise continued as your professor and Ben played off one another in ways that only happened when two people knew each other beyond words. Ben’s nose pressed into your mound as he licked a slow, deep stripe up your center.

“Oh my god,” You cried, finding your professor’s hand with a desperate grasp as Ben began working on your pussy with slow, luxurious and hungry swirls until he moved into a varied and unexpected pace that had you shaking, writhing, and bucking against his every move. Each time his tongue worked on you, he pushed you to the very edge of ecstasy over and over and over again.

He moved his worship to your clit and pressed his face and tongue deeper into you, eliciting a cry from you that filled the room, “Jesus, Ben, fuck oh my—Professor!!”

You pressed one hand through Ben’s waves and gripped Professor Levy’s thigh while riding your high.

“Ben, tell me what she tastes like.”

He lifted his face from your center, lips and chin dripping with your spend.

“Like heaven.”

Ben looked up at you, his eyes glassy with passion and also shining with the gleam of a man hungry for more. The sight of him caused you to whimper. You had never studied his face this way before even though you shared a small space together almost daily. The broad bridge of his nose sloped downward and he breathed you in with a playful smirk before adorning your outer lips with a delicate kiss. You thread your fingers through the disheveled locks of his hair, smiling back at him until your lips opened once more as he teased you with more caresses of his fingers.

“He’s good isn’t he?” Professor Levy growled into your ear.

Your brain was spinning, your body shaking in anticipation of what was to come next. Professor Levy reached an arm over your body, maneuvering his hand towards your neck and without missing a beat, Ben pressed his mouth onto you again sucking at your lips before he dipped his tongue into you again. He continued to venerate every fold with abandon, moaning with each taste he had of you like it were the best meal he’d ever had. You didn’t think it could get any better, especially with the pressure of your professor’s hand at your neck matching the intensity of each manipulation of Ben’s tongue.

And then…

One…two of his broad fingers reached into you, curling into your tight wet pussy while his tongue paid particular devotion to your clit.

“Ah, oh my god, fuck!” You came crying, writhing, and losing any more words the tighter your professor’s grip became.

Ben’s voice vibrated against you with a low, carnal laugh as you felt the slick sensation spill from your center onto the leather beneath you. He then pressed his hands lightly at your lower belly, causing you to shudder with even more aftershocks from your orgasm. You worked through catching your breath and looked down at him. The face he greeted you with as you caressed his wavy locks was that of a bold and satisfied man who knew he could do that to you again.

Ben rose up from the floor and leaned forward until his face was close to yours. You relaxed and leaned your head back against your professor’s as he eased his hold at your neck. In an unexpected moment of tenderness, Professor Levy threaded his fingers between yours.

Ben’s eyes shined as he looked toward you and then your professor. The simultaneously tender and sensual intimacy they shared was amplified in this quiet moment. It felt so private that you were almost embarrassed by having witnessed it.

“Wanna have a taste?” Ben asked as he pressed his thumb still damp from you to Professor Levy’s bottom lip.

Your professor took it, sucking at the tip savoring the taste of you on Ben’s skin. Heavy-lidded with lust, Professor Levy let go of Ben’s thumb and then licked his lips.

“Mmm, sweet,” he murmured with a seductive and low rumble coming from the back of his throat.

Ben stood up and lifted his chin with a proud smirk. He walked to what you assumed was his bedroom and then turned around to lean against the doorway. The way he leaned his elbow above him and his other hand resting at his hip demanded you pay attention to his defined torso. The waistband of his sweatpants sat so low that your eyes had no choice but to travel down the peppering of brown hair that led to the thick treasure you were becoming so desperate for.

A light squeeze of your thighs by your professor was your signal to stand. He walked around you and used his eyes to study every curve of your body. A light touch of his fingers beneath your chin had you breathing hard again as his gaze now demanded that you give him your own. The breath from his mouth danced upon your lips. Yet instead of taking you in for a kiss, he turned from you with his hands in his pockets. You stood naked before both men watching you, waiting for you, bodies reaching for you from a doorway to a room and to a deed that you could never really come back from.

And the decision was clear. There was no way in hell you could turn back now.

You stepped forward. The old, hardwood floors creaked beneath your feet.

“Wait,” Professor Levy called out.

You closed your eyes with a sharp intake of breath and you stopped as he had demanded. Your breath quivered as you waited for what they had in store for you.

He shared another look with Ben, his eyes lowering and the brown of them becoming devilish and dark.

“Get on your knees and crawl.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Those Three (Hundred) Little Words - 12 - Anonymous Love Confession

*all of these (especially this one) will be standalone fluff unless otherwise noted. In honor of Pedro being part of the SNL 50th Anniversary special, I couldn't not let one of his skit characters tag in!*

dividers by @enchanthings-a

Most days, your homeroom class was barely awake before the morning announcements. But on certain days throughout the year when excitement was high they were abuzz bright and early. Valentine’s Day was no exception. 

Which wasn’t surprising. You smiled to yourself as you recalled what it was like when you were their age - exchanging cards and candy, flowers from your first boyfriend, laid back classes because your teachers knew they couldn’t compete with the swirling hormones or the sugar rush. 

As if on cue, there was a knock on your open door, two senior students carrying a large red bag poking their heads in. “Candygram delivery!” One of them announced cheerfully, your students all sitting up a little straighter at the prospect of receiving a treat from a friend or secret admirer. 

“Come on in, girls,” you waved them in. “You can go ahead and pass ‘em out.” 

The candygrams were a fundraiser for the prom committee, which Ben oversaw. You’d have volunteered, both to help out and to spend more time with Ben - the teens in the room weren’t the only ones bitten by the love bug - but your after school time was already filled by the yearbook committee. He’d told you how excited the kids were, though, about how many they sold. 

So it wasn’t a shock that all of your students received at least one candygram. But you weren’t expecting the girls to deposit one on your desk. “Looks like you have a secret admirer, Miss!”

You checked the note. No name attached, but you didn’t need one as you read the message. 

1 + 2 = 3 words: I love you

And when the bell rang and your students emptied out into the hall, you caught Ben winking at you from across the sea of bodies and bookbags. 

[ozarkthedog]

Could I also request something for Mr. Ben using #89 from the prompt list? 😊💗💗

summary: the repercussions of sending your boyfriend nudes while he's at work.

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING?!”

warnings: 18+ only. Mr. Ben x fem!Reader. spanking. fingering. dirty talk.

word count: 628

author's note: thank you so much for celebrating and putting this obscene thought in my brain. hope you rot in horny jail with me. 💙 FIRST TIME WRITING MR. BEN!

✨10K Birthday Celebration✨

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING?!”

You almost spit your wine all over the dining room table as your boyfriend, Ben, stands before you aghast. 

It was harmless fun, really it was. You had some time to kill after lunch and thought he’d enjoy the naughty surprise. It was rather stupid in the long run to send him topless photos while he was at work but you’d barely seen him all week and your hormones got the best of you.

“Thank god I didn’t have my phone connected to the monitor!” His hands perched on his hips as pins you with a hard stare. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

You squirm in your seat. His tone is harsh, leaving no room for error. You fucked up big time.

You shake your head and begin to apologize but clicks his tongue and stalks towards you.

“Too late.” He hisses. 

With ease, he tugs you from the chair only to take your place as he tosses you over his lap. “Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson.”  

In a flash, he yanks your panties and leggings half way down your thighs and locks your legs together. You teeter on his lap, his solid muscly thighs press crudely into your curves as you sweetly beg forgiveness. 

“Hush, Baby.” Ben’s chest rumbles as he smooths his hand over your ass. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you bent over like this. Taking your punishment like a good girl. Made me so fuckin’ hard.” 

A heavy hand lands on your rump with a thwap. You jolt and grab his calf as the pain radiates across your flesh. Your head hangs between your shoulders as you bite back the whimpers that threaten to fall spank after spank.

“You’ll be my good girl, right?” He grabs the base of your hairline and yanks your head back. His nose grazes your cheek as he nuzzles his lips against your jaw. “Answer me.” 

He carelessly rubs the tender, raised skin on your ass forcing a whine to bubble from your lips. 

“Yes, please. I’m sorry.” You sniffle and yelp when he tugs on your locks.

“Thatta girl.” He beams before lowering your head to hang once more. 

His sinful touch moves lower, nestling thick fingers between your thighs, he finds you slick and wanting. “Lookit’ you getting soaked from a punishment.” He tsks. “What am I gonna do with you?”

You mewl as he spears you open with his fingers. He deviously glides his thick digits across every spot that makes you see stars and leaves you breathless. “You’re making a mess. Can you hear it?” A continuous sticky sound hits your ears with each overwhelming thrust of his wrist. 

“You know, this isn’t how a good girl is supposed to behave.” His condescending tone has you lurching in his lap. Suffocating bliss fogs your mind and seeps into your bloodstream. “Good girls don’t  drip down their thighs from getting spanked.”

Your grip on his calf gets tighter as the pleasure mounts and races up your spine. He wickedly curls his fingers, zeroing in on the spongy spot behind your clit as your cunt pulses and constricts. “That’s it. Good girl.”

With a shout, you cum around his fingers and he continuously fucks you through your orgasm despite your whimpers of protest.

You hear him groan as he sucks your cream off his fingers. His hard cock pokes into your belly and ignites a searing burst of arousal deep in your belly. He slips you onto your knees between his thighs and you come face to face with his throbbing cock hidden beneath his slacks.

“Now you show me how sorry you really are.”

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

The Competition - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Two of Pedrotober: Kieran Bromance Pedrotober Hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE. Pairing: Mr. Ben x f!reader

Rating: G for Genuinely this will melt you into a puddle.

Word Count: 1752

a/n: I love Mr. Ben. I have no idea why I didn't write for him sooner, but when I realized I'd have to come up with not only a new OC played by Kieran in a Pedroverse role and a situation in which the two could face off, there was no other logical choice. Fancams at the ready!

It's your favorite time of the year. It's not because of the cozy vibes or the pumpkin spice lattes. Not for the crisp breeze greeting you each morning or the horror movies watched late into the night. It's not even because of the hilariously massive skeletons in your neighbor's front yard, changing daily with morally questionable positions.

No, autumn is your favorite for one reason and one reason alone: the wall competition.

It's unclear why it originally started, but a list of winners dates back to the 1950s. The original challenge concept was simple: whichever teacher could create the best display on the wall outside their classroom each fall won, and somewhere along the line it had become engrained in the culture of your high school.

As you stroll through the front doors of the school you cast a glance at Nancy, the high school secretary. She jumps up from her desk, hurrying around the counter to join you as you head toward your classroom. "Do you think they've started?" she questions breathlessly as her heels click double time to yours.

You nod. "Of course they've started. There's absolutely no way they haven't." You make a quick stop at your classroom to drop your bag and jacket before rejoining Nancy in the hallway, the two of you changing course to the science wing. "Do you think they'll have themes again this year?"

"When don't they?" Nancy chuckles. "I heard Noah invested in a smell machine this year," she informs you, and your eyebrows raise in surprise. Not that it should surprise you. The competition grows more elaborate every year.

"There's no way it can beat the fog machine," you point out, referring to Ben's science-focused addition of a class-made fog element to his graveyard-inspired display last year. The entire thing had been his response to Noah's cookies from the previous autumn, an experiment for his class that showcased the practical applications of chemistry. Both instances were just the beginning of a growing list of insane attempts at one-upping each other, which had started with Ben creating an incredibly artistic wall that incorporated real fall leaves in his first year. You found out later that he'd had to climb the first tree that turned to carefully collect each of the hundreds of leaves, but the effort had been worth it. Of course, it also jumpstarted a legendary rivalry that was the highlight of the competition each year.

The sound of staplers echoes as you approach the science hall, and you arrive to find a colorful array of paper lining the floor. On one side is Ben, his patterned tie long discarded and the top buttons of his shirt popped open to combat the thick air in the hall. On the other wall is Noah, his hair disheveled like he's been running his hands through it as he stares at the canvas in front of him.

You and Nancy pause, crossing your arms as you watch the two of them focus intently on their individual projects. "Getting a head start?"

Ben turns immediately, the corners of his lips turning up the second he spots you. Noah turns too, rolling his eyes as his adversary moves to press a kiss to your forehead. "I still don't think it's fair that your girlfriend is one of the judges," he quips before turning back to his display and stapling up a thick piece of black paper.

"Listen, I couldn't convince her to be impartial if I tried," Ben returns from beside you, his arm slinging around your waist as he pulls you closer. "Unless I can change that this year?" he whispers against your ear.

You push him back toward his wall playfully, "try again, Mr. Ben." Nancy giggles from beside you as your boyfriend returns to his display. Neither wall is easy to picture this early on, especially since their mess cluttering the hallway looks like an equal mix of spooky scary and aesthetic autumn, but you know already that this year's competition is shaping up to be one for the record books.

You barely see your boyfriend as the week progresses, not that you expected to. In the week leading up to judging, Ben always spent every last second in the hallway outside his classroom. You missed having him across from you at dinner and in your bed more often than not, but if there was one thing that you were serious about, it was maintaining your unbiased opinion in the yearly competition. Even if it did mean that the two of you had to pause your rewatch of Succession.

Friday comes quickly though, and as you walk the halls with your fellow judges, a group of faculty and selected students, there are a wealth of competitors to consider. Not that they really stood a chance.

The history wing went with their usual theme of an Egyptian display inspired by The Mummy, and your fellow English teachers swapped out their standard Edgar Allen Poe inspired display for one featuring Hamlet. Even the music department had gotten involved this time around, putting together a show-stopping creation that belted out numbers from Little Shop of Horrors as a life-like Audrey II took center stage.

But as you walk toward the science hallway, you can already smell the sweet scent of pumpkin as it wafts in your direction. You assume it's part of Noah's display, per Nancy's note about a smell-machine, but it turns out that Ben has butchered the pumpkins he's started with his class that spring and turned them all into pie, which is being handed out piece by piece to eager students. The pumpkins he'd guttered surround him, and a 3D scarecrow on the wall defends the patch from little mobiles of crows hanging from the ceiling tiles above. His face lights up when he sees you, and you can't help but laugh at the David Pumpkins tie he's wearing to complete the theme.

However, across the hall, Noah has foregone his attempt at filling the hall with delightful scents and has instead created what appears to be an actual demogorgon outside his classroom. He's standing alongside his proud students, who apparently created the oozing slime that's covering the deformed body. It runs down the wall and is collected, somehow, and recycled to run through the display again. It's unlike anything you've ever seen, unless you count the terrifying Alien audio-animatronic they used to have at Disney World.

A quick glance at your fellow judges confirms what you already know. Ben has lost. As delicious as the pumpkin pie looks, there's no way he can compete with the literal monster that Noah has developed. You offer your boyfriend a soft smile, trying to convey to him the undesirable outcome of the competition for him this year, but he doesn't seem to miss a beat as he continues to hand out pie.

The official judging process takes only a few minutes because you always save the science wing for last, and then you're back, decorated pumpkin trophy in hand. You wait as everyone gathers around you to announce the winner. Ben and Noah stand side by side in the lineup of teachers, playfully elbowing each other until Noah's name falls from your lips.

He rushes toward you, accepting the pumpkin from your hands and immediately turning to give his customary acceptance speech. "First off, I'd like to thank my incredible students, who put just as much time and thought into the wall as I did this year. I couldn't have done it without you. And second, I'd just like to say suck it, Ben."

Everyone laughs, and you have half a mind to remind your colleague that you should be setting a good example for the kids surrounding you, but everyone knows it's in good fun, and the chemistry teacher immediately moves to shake hands with Ben.

The crowd begins to disperse, some of them going to grab pie, others to take a selfie with the demogorgon, but you stand and study your boyfriend for a moment, tilting your head as you try to read his expression. For someone who just lost the most important competition of his year, he still seems rather...happy.

"You seem oddly accepting of Noah's triumph this year," you note as you make your way over to him.

"All is fair in love and autumn wall competitions. He really created a masterpiece this time," Ben admits, his arms winding around you in a much more public display of affection than you're used to from him. You itch to pull away as you start to imagine the fancams being filmed of the two of you right now, but he holds you tight against him. "Plus, he managed to do what I asked him to."

"What?" you ask quickly, looking up at him with confusion laced in your eyes. "What do you mean?"

Ben grins. "I asked him to come up with something so distracting that you wouldn't fully look at my wall until after judging was finished.

Your eyes fall back on the pumpkins lining the wall behind him. Some of them are carved, and for the first time you notice the shapes he's sculpted into them. Under your breath, you start to spell out the words.

"W. I. L. L. Y. O. U. M. A."

You stop.

"Ben?" you look up at him, voice quiet, and you're aware now more than ever that cameras are definitely trained on you.

He moves swiftly, dropping to a knee in front of you as he pulls a ring from his pocket. "What do you say, sweetheart? Care to design walls with me for the rest of our lives?"

The crowd that's gathered around you is filled with excited chatter, and you just barely catch Noah's smile from near his classroom. When your eyes land back on Ben, you start to cry, some kind of gut reaction that has you pulling him up to wrap your arms around his neck as you press a kiss to his lips. Fancams be damned.

"Is that a yes?" he asks when you finally let him go.

"It's a yes. And Nancy?" you ask, turning to the secretary who is crying harder than you are, "I think I'm going to have to resign as a judge." Ben guides you to look back at him as he slips the ring on your finger. "After all," you whisper so only he can hear, "something tells me I won't be impartial much longer."

[wannab-urs]

You Have Me In a Chokehold | Mr. Ben (SNL) x teacher!reader | 18+

Summary: You’re a teacher at Mr. Ben’s school and you’re sitting in the “No More Fancams” assembly freaking out because he just showed your fancam on screen… Do you think he knows it was you? (AU where he’s not in love with Ms. Jenny, the assembly just ends with him being like “please don’t do this anymore, thanks”)

WC: 2.4k

Warnings: MDNI | 18+ | SMUT | no ages implied (all legal obvi), hair pulling, sir kink, very mild degrading language, fingering, unprotected PiV (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) (also y’all are teachers, you should know better), rough-ish sex but no one gets hurt, Mr. Ben is girthy (Big Ben ;) ), brief mention of the picture of dorian gray, which deserves its own warning if you’ve ever tried to teach that book to teenagers, extreme cringe in the first half. Gets weirdly fluffy at the end so if that kills your vibe just stop reading after the uhhhh climax of the story (if you catch my drift). Sorry we support aftercare in this house. I think that’s it, love y’all, enjoy! 

It’s 8 in the morning, supposed to be first period, and the principal has called for some technology assembly. You’re unlucky enough to have first period planning, you have essays to grade, and you won’t have a spare minute for the rest of the day. But sure, let’s all go sit in the gym so the boomers can lecture the zoomers about technology use. This is a great use of everyone’s time. 

You slip into the auditorium with 5 minutes to spare, hoping to go unnoticed in the back row. You’re just about to subtly put in your airpods and watch TikToks like 90% of the students, when you hear the principal introduce Mr. Ben. This assembly suddenly became worth paying attention to. 

Ben is by far the prettiest thing to look at in this school. He’s ridiculously broad chested, always wearing these just-shy-of-too-tight button ups that he pairs with definitely-a-little-too-tight pants, accentuating his cute butt. He has toned forearms, usually peeking out of rolled up sleeves, and huge hands that he waves around in the air or clasps in front of him when he speaks. And then, despite being this big, broad, powerful looking man, he has the sweetest face. 

His eyes are soft brown, hooded and turned down a little, so he’s basically making puppy dog eyes constantly. His nose is prominent and curved and sitting above the most adorably pouty lips. His facial hair is sparse and a little patchy, but honestly it just makes him even more charming. God, you have it so bad for this man. 

Your internal drooling over Ben is interrupted by the sound of a freshman at the front of the room yelling, “Come on guuurrrrl, eat it up!” Your eyes flick to the screen beside Ben. There are two very vague tech rules followed by… Shit. 

“Do not make fancams of school staff, such as this,” says Ben, gesturing at the screen. And your stomach does a somersalt. Shit! There’s a TikTok playing on the screen, and though you can’t quite make out the username, you definitely recognize the video. That’s your fancam. And Ben looks… mortified. He looks extremely uncomfortable. 

“You have made thousands of fancams of me and i’m not sure what they mean, but I know it has to stop,” he pleads. And fuck is he looking at you? He can’t know can he? There’s absolutely no way he knows. He’s just looking out toward the back of the auditorium. Yeah. You wouldn’t want to make eye contact with a bunch of 14 years olds while pictures of you flash on the screen either. That makes perfect sense. 

“We make them because you’re our beloved and you have us a in a chokehold,” screams another student toward the front. You wish he would put you in a chokehold. GOD what is wrong with you. Pull yourself together.

“Okay, don’t say that,” Ben says, wringing his hands together in front of him. You can see that he’s clearly uncomfortable. You should delete your account. Ban him from your thoughts. You’ve crossed the line big time.

“I just don’t understand. Why do you make sparkly fast romantic montages of me every single day?” he asks. Another fancam, thankfully not yours, begins playing on the screen. You have to get out of here. 

You stand up and try to sneak out as inconspicuously as possible, whispering “Bathroom,” in response to a disapproving look from another, older teacher. 

You break into a run as soon as you get into the hall and only slow down when you’re safely locked in the handicap stall of the teacher bathroom. You slide down the wall to the floor and press your face into your hands. You are so stupid. Of course making fancams of school staff is a bad idea. It’s bad when the kids do it… and really weird because they’re kids… but when another teacher does it? He could have you fired for this. 

But he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. 

You manage to make it through the rest of the day, somehow facing your classes and teaching them about nouns and reading a bit more of The Picture of Dorian Gray aloud. 

It’s finally the end of the day, but you still have those essays to grade, so you decide to set a timer for one hour and power through as many as you can. The school is so weirdly silent this long after final bell. The custodians won’t be in for another couple hours and pretty much every teacher and student has long gone home. 

You finish packing your tote bag and start shrugging on your coat when you hear a knock at the door. “Come in!” 

You freeze when the door opens. Shit.

“Ben! Hi! How can I help you? I was just leaving, but-” the sharp sound of the door slamming shut cuts off your nervous rambling. Ben stands with his hands behind his back, puffing his very broad chest out. 

“I was wondering if you could tell me something, sweetheart.” His voice is low, gravelly, and you feel like you’re being raked over hot coals. He knows. 

“Um. Sure?” you squeak out. Your face is on fire and you have no idea what to do with your hands. He takes a step toward you, looking for all the world like a predator stalking it’s pray. His eyes are dark, brow lowered, lips set in a hard line. He looks nothing like the shy, uncomfortable man from the assembly. 

Your bag drops to the floor and you take a stuttering step back toward your desk. 

“What’s your TikTok username?” he asks slowly, taking another step toward you. 

You gulp and fall back another step, thighs pressing against your desk now. Your shake your head and glue your eyes to the floor. 

“Don’t make me ask again.” And oh god he’s right in front of you now. He hooks a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his. His pupils are blown so wide, you can barely see his usually warm brown irises. Wait is he turned on right now? 

“It’s- uh… I don’t have one!” you stammer out. You try to look away, but his fingers hold your chin in place. He leans a bit closer, his breath ghosting over your face, and presses his other palm into the desk beside you. He tsks and presses his thumb to your bottom lip.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls out, and oh that went straight to your core. You squirm in his hold and that’s when you truly realize how close he is. His body is nearly pressed against yours. 

“It’s- it’s… fuck. It’s MrBensLittleSlut…” you stammer out. You feel like you’re on fire, ashamed of your actions, but also incredibly fucking turned on. The object of your not-so-innocent crush has you pressed against your desk like some school girl fantasy. 

“And do you really want to be my little slut, sweetheart?” Holy. Shit. Did he really just ask you that? Your heart actually stops beating in your chest for a second. You nod. 

“Aloud, please.” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. 

He brings one hand to the back of your head and wraps your hair around his fingers, pulling your head back slightly. You whimper and he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. And you think you’ll melt into puddle on the spot. His hands slide to your hips and he lifts you up onto the edge of the desk. You instinctively part your legs and he presses himself flush against you. He keeps one hand on your waist to steady you and slides the other back up into your hair and suddenly his lips are on yours. 

It’s sloppy and open mouthed and greedy. He licks into your mouth, curling his tongue around yours. Your hands find purchase around his biceps and you hold on for dear life. His fist tightens in your hair and you moan wantonly, throwing your head back and pushing your hips up into his, chasing friction. 

His lips trail down your jaw and he nips at your earlobe before sucking a kiss to the spot where your jaw meets your throat. You dig your nails into his muscular arms and choke on a gasp. 

“Please,” you whine, shifting your hips against him again.

“Please what, sweetheart?” you can feel him smirking into the skin of your throat. He loves how riled up you are. Loves watching you try and fail to grind yourself on him. 

“Please- please touch me, sir,” he rolls his hips into yours, finally giving you something. Anything to ease the burning desire between your legs.

“You’re so pretty when you beg,” he growls in your ear. Then you feel his right hand leave your waist and pull up your skirt. He drags his fingertips up the inside of your left thigh, featherlight. Finally, he hooks two fingers into the soaked crotch of your panties and drags his knuckles across your clit. 

You suck in a gasp and a little “Oh” falls from your lips. He pulls back, keeping his left hand in your hair and watches as he slowly sinks two fingers into your cunt, down to the knuckle. Your hands ball up into fists, twisting the sleeves of his shirt and you let out a long, breathy moan. 

“You’re so wet for me already, sweetheart. Really are a little slut, aren’t you?” Your pussy clenches around his thick fingers at his words.

“Yes! Yes, I’m your little slut!” you gasp out.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, hooking them just right so that he hits the spongy spot inside you every time. You’re holding onto his shirt so tight you think you might rip the sleeves off. You can hear how wet you are, the sound echoing off the cinderblock walls. You start moving your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers inside you, chasing your orgasm. 

“I’m-- I’m gonna--” you clench hard around his fingers, so close to tipping over the edge.

And then his touch is gone. He’s pulled his fingers out of you and let go of you completely, taking a step back. You let out an actual scream of frustration. “No!” you shout, slumping back until your head hits your desk. You actually pout at him.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Want you to come on my cock.” His voice is so low, you almost can’t hear him over the sound of your heaving breaths. “Sit up, pretty girl.”

You push yourself back up and take in his appearance. Other than his rumpled shirt, he looks completely unbothered. His hair is still effortlessly tousled, his face is set into a teasing smirk. The fucker didn’t even break a sweat and you’re gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Pretty girl. He called you pretty.

“Bend over the desk, sweetheart.” 

You scramble to obey his request, standing up and bending over, pushing your ass into the air. You press your forehead into the desk and try to calm your fluttering heart rate. 

Suddenly… finally… you feel his hands on you. He grabs your skirt and bunches it up around your waist. His fingertips slide into the waistband of your panties and he pushes them down, letting them settle around your ankles. You hear the clink of a belt buckle, the tug of a zipper, and then you feel him. 

He slides his cock between your clenched thighs, through the wet folds of your pussy and oh god. You can’t see him, but you can feel that he’s thick. The head of his cock presses against your clit and you moan. 

“Such a pretty little pussy… I’m going to ruin it.” You gasp, but before you can respond, he’s moving. In one fluid motion, he pulls back, kicks your feet apart, and pushes all the way into you. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out. You might pass out from pleasure. His cock is thick, filling you up and stretching you out more than you ever have been before. He holds still inside you while you clench and unclench around his girth, trying to get used to it. “So big.” you gasp into the desk. 

“I know, baby.” And then he moves, pulling all the way out to the tip and thrusting hard, all the way back in. The force of his hips smacking against your ass jolts you into the desk, making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain and sprawl forward on the desk. 

Ben grabs your shoulder with one hand, tightens his grip on your hip with the other, and resumes fucking into you at an absolutely brutal pace. 

Some part of you is scared you’ll get caught, but that part is overpowered by the euphoria you feel. You’re moaning and babbling incoherently as his cock hits that sweet spot deep inside you and grinds into it with every thrust. 

“Is my. Little. Slut. Gonna. Come. on my. Cock?” Ben grits out between thrusts. 

You cry out a garbled response. Your cunt is fluttering around his thick length and your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and there’s no way you can form words right now. 

Ben wraps his arm around your chest and pulls you back against him. His cock hits something deep inside you and you come with an agonizing cry, gushing around his cock and soaking him to the base. 

Your whole body goes limp with the force of your orgasm, but he holds you up and continues fucking up into you. After a few more thrusts, he pulls out and covers your ass and thighs in his release, letting out a low groan as the thick ropes hit your skin. 

You’re lying on the desk on your stomach, naked ass still in the air. It’s a ridiculous position to lay in, but you’re still riding the high of your orgasm and too blissed out to care. You jolt as you feel silk move across your over-sensitive skin. 

“What’re you doing?” You’re so drunk on his cock, it comes out slurred.

“Cleaning you up, sweetheart,” Ben says. Is he- he’s cleaning you up with his tie. Fuck that’s hot. And sweet? 

“Thank you…” you sigh into the desk. He pulls your panties back up for you and settles your skirt back down around your legs.

“Can you sit up for me, baby?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to your feet, nestling your head into the curve of his shoulder.

It’s not fair for him to fuck you that good and go right to being the sweet, bashful man you thought you knew. 

He brushes your hair out of your face and presses a soft, almost tender, kiss to your nose. You giggle and the sound makes him break out into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his dimple peeking out behind a 5 o’clock shadow. 

“Come on, sweetheart, I’ll walk you to your car.” 

He grabs your coat and your tote bag, slips his hand into yours, and leads you out to the parking lot.

a/n: I’m so sorry. This is ridiculous and I apologize for the no plot snl character porn fic. 

Tags: @beskarandblasters @meveispunk

[pretty-saucy]

I need more of you beautiful Pedro writers to care about Mr. Ben. Please. For me.

(This is serious, y'all. The reason I loved Joel in the games is because he looked and sounded like MY ACTUAL DAD. DON'T ASK ME TO GET OFF TO THAT.)

[madhattervanessa]

Read this AGAIN today and by god...

The intense care and intimacy... the absolute filth coming out of this man's mouth... the SPITTING

I

am

unwell

Well Read

Pairing: Teacher Ben (SNL) x f!reader Word Count: 3.0k+ Warnings: Unprotected PiV. Naughty teacher fantasy talk. Breeding kink. Author's Note: The brainrot settled in fast on this one. The gif is just a gif, there are no descriptions of reader.

Please follow @wyn-writing and turn on updates for notifications. You can sign up for my taglist HERE.

Masterlist

Thunder rattles the old windows in the half rotten frames of the classroom. The glass panes barely hanging on as rain leaks through the small openings around the window air conditioning unit you had to buy with your own money.

It’s been three years and barely hanging on, having been run for eight hours or more every day all school year long.

Ben laughed the first cold day when he walked in and heard the heavy hum, even laughed until you turned it off and let him feel for himself that it’s the only airflow in the otherwise gas range oven that is your classroom.

Everybody has already gone home, it’s well passed three and all the kids who aren’t in electives or detention have left to go live their lives.

Not you, though. Your planning hour was spent breaking up a brawl between hormonal teenage boys fighting over… fucking PokeMon cards because it is apparently still the fucking nineties. No planning hour means now you’re here well after work.

Because that’s the rule this year—work stays at work.

The other half of that is that home stays at home but that doesn’t stop Ben from pushing through the door before knocking.

His own backpack is slung over his shoulder, lunchbox in hand, and he asks if you’re almost finished. “Come on, I want to get dinner started.”

“Then go get dinner started.”

Not cold but not warm either. Flat. Voice pressured down from a day of shit just building higher on shit. 

“We drove in together, sweetheart,” he reminds you. “Your car’s in the shop.”

“I'll take a Lyft,” you shrug, only glancing back up at him long enough catch the way his face falls. “I'll see you at home, I have a lot of work to catch up on.” 

“Hey.” His voice is gentle and you hear the sound of his bags falling on a desktop; hear his footfalls coming closer until his large hand is covering yours. He takes the pen out of your hand and lifts your chin to look up at him with the other. “Let’s call it quits today, it’s been a tough one and I think that you could really use a nice dinner and an even bigger glass of wine.” 

“But—“ You gesture to the pile of essays that need to be graded; the blank test template you need to make copies of. There are no more words left in you today, they’re defeated out by the storm and the air conditioner and the bells and the fighting and all the talking back.

Ben smirks. “Mark all of them with an A, give the kids a break because you need a break, sweetheart, let’s go home.” 

“That's not fair, Benjamin,” you tell him. “That’s not fair to the kids who put the work in on these essays to give everybody the same score.”

He closes my planning book next and takes my hand. “You know what’s not fair? That you don’t give yourself a break—ever. It’s not fair that I had to put a hard rule down on work stuff being brought into our home the moment we moved in together.”

"Please just let me bring this home today, Benny,” you practically plead. “I’ll finish while you’re making dinner and then I’m all yours, I’ll take a break.”

Eyes hardening, he shakes his head. “No, sweetheart, because your idea of a break isn’t what you actually need. What you need”—he bends down, voice lowered—“is a hot bath, a glass of wine and to get every thought absolutely fucked out of your brain.” 

While he lets those words settle into your ears, he takes your hand and examines your nails. “I like this color,” he says, the pad of his rough thumb swiping over the polish. “Brianna’s getting better at this every time and if you don’t think you’re a good teacher because you put yourself first for one night, I want you to think of the very huge impact you have on students like her just by letting her do your nails during study hall.” 

Laughing, you tell him you doubt that. “You're her favorite teacher, she said you’re the first one to not make her read dumbass shit she’s not interested in.” 

“No, you’re her favorite,” he insists, coming around the desk to start packing up my bag for me. “She told me that you let her paint your nails and listen to music even if it has curse words.” He stops, looks down at you. “I also think she’s trying to set us up… should we let her know we’re getting married?”

“Oh, are we getting married, Benjamin?” You ask him, arms crossed. “People who are getting married usually set a date, we’re just engaged.” 

“For now.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

Deep breath. “It will be if you don’t get your ass in the car and let me take you home.” 

Wine in hand, you watch him work from the doorway, wondering how long it will take him to notice you there. On nights that he cooks, the routine is always similar; he puts you in the bath with a very large glass of wine and a book and he takes to the kitchen with headphones in his ears and two deep lines of concentration between his eyebrows. 

No headphones are in tonight, though. Instead, his audiobook plays loudly from the speaker beside the stove. On the way home, he asked if everything was okay other than the school day getting to you. Even with confirmation that you were fine, he squinted his eyes and tried to study you—to read you. 

“Are you going to stand there all night?” He asks, not looking up from the task at hand. “Or are you going to come over here and kiss me?”

Taking the glass from your hand, he takes the final drink and sets it to the side. “We'll refill that later. How do you feel?” 

“Better.” And you can finally appreciate the way his pants are hugging him today; the soft slope of his belly slight but visibly accentuated by the way the belt cuts into him. “You haven’t untucked your shirt.” 

“Was I supposed to?” He laughs.

“I mean… you’re home but”—palming the thick bulge over the black polyester, you push closer—“I’m glad you didn’t, I haven’t gotten to appreciate how handsome you look today.” 

“That’s okay, I’m sure there will be another fan cam tomorrow,” he whispers, fingers brushing along the swell of your cheek. “Do you want to eat and then”—lips drawn tight, he rocks his head back and forth in suggestions—“or do you want to do that and then eat?”

“You,” you tell him, fingers hooked into his waistband to pull him further as you stand up on your tiptoes. “My head hurts and I want you and everything else comes second.” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. He switches the burners off with enthusiasm and follows you through to the living room, large hands crawling up the t-shirt that you stole just to land on your bare hips with wide eyes. “Are you not wearing panties?” 

“Wanted to make your job easier for you.” 

All his soothing words make the days and the nights and everything that is hard better; they make everything that is good great. Three years ago when this idiot wandered into your classroom to introduce himself as your new neighbor, he caught you on a similarly bad day and it annoyed the shit out of you. Especially after he made fun of all your maps. 

Now, he’s pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it to the side after throwing you into the never made ocean of sheets and blankets that is your bed. Your shared bed in your shared home. 

He starts to pull at the button up, untucking it slowly and struggling with the buttons out of nerves. That bulge of his is already so much larger than when you groped him in the kitchen and the belt buckle is moving with every shallow, belly breath he takes.

“Come here,” you say, pushing yourself up to your knees and moving forward towards him. “Let me help.” 

Even when he’s the one in charge, this confident man with his soft brown eyes, he fumbles under nerves like he’s half expecting you to lash out in impatience. It’s what his ex did and you’re not a fan of her for it—or anything else for that matter—but there’s something about the relief of safety that washes over him in these moments that warm you up to the tips of your ears. 

You can trust him with your bad days just as much as your good; he can trust you with his insecurities just as much as his confidences. 

“You know,” you start, buttons easily coming undone with the work of your fingers. “Sometimes I think about coming into your classroom on your planning period and having you take me right there on your desk.” 

“On my desk?” He asks through a smile. “Baby, you know how much trouble we’d get in.” 

“Only if we get caught, Mr. Ben,” you whisper against his lips as you push the fabric off his broad shoulders. “Come on, I’ve always had a hot for teacher fantasy.”

“You are feeling better,” he smiles. “Maybe you don’t need me to fuck your brain empty after all.” 

He does it to make you beg and, despite knowing this, you fall for it every time—whine for him every time.

A soft push meets your shoulders and he nods back to the pillows in encouragement.

“Don't take your belt off yet,” you beg him as he follows you up on the mattress but he only laughs, says he has to because he’s been aching after you for hours and needs a little relief now.

Hours but you’ve only been home for one, maybe two. “Are you saying this isn't just about making me feel better?”

He shakes his head, lips pursed, and he throws the belt over to the side as well. “You’re ovulating,” he says, “and the only thing I have thought about since I woke up and checked our fertility calendar is how badly I’ve wanted to get you home and put a baby in you.”

Oh god, that explains so much.

Laying back under his guidance, you spread your legs open for him and watch him take you in. Years now and it doesn’t get old; soft brown eyes studying you in silent awe, mouth open with the occasional smirk pulling up a corner of his lips. It’s like he’s reading how you want it from him and you hope he never stops.

Leaning forward between your legs, he takes a deep breath and then spits on your aching center, eyes up towards you as it falls. He doesn’t wait long after that—doesn’t play with his food as he likes to joke. 

Everything is on fire already as he lays an open mouthed kiss to your core, soft moans vibrating into you and up through your own throat as you grab for his hair. 

He’s a ravenous kind of lover when he wants to be but tonight he seems more focused on taking you apart slowly with the warm press of his tongue between your legs.

Not long and you’re crying for him, actually crying. Softly sobbing his name out as his nose rubs against your clit with his tongue buried deep into your entrance for more than just a taste. 

You can feel him smiling with every shuddering breath as you grasp for purchase on the sheets and pleasure floods your brain. 

Then he takes his mouth away, face shining with your slick as your eyes meet with some kind of electric charge between you as your chests rise and fall in time with one another.

“I feel like I should probably take your temperature,” he says finally, large hands held out as if he’s weighing his options. “Make sure your cute body is the right environment for implantation right now but—“ 

He goes on but you’ve tuned that out, focused in on the deep wells his fingers make as they curve over in a half closed fist. Everything about him is so gentle, including those hands and the way they hold you—the way you know they’d hold your baby.

“You're not a science teacher,” you finally say. “So save the lesson and let me make you a dad.” 

It was one of the first things he ever told you—maybe the second or the third date—when you talked about your dreams and does life now look like what you wanted when you were younger. He’d said his biggest dream was to be a dad. Maybe you shouldn’t have fallen in love with him on those words alone but there was something about him that just made sense and fit perfectly into all your big dreams and big plans too. 

You could see a future with this man—a family and years of happiness in those soft brown eyes.

Pants off now, he fists himself as he crawls back onto the bed. You just had sex two nights ago and, yet, somehow you feel like you haven’t been full for him in weeks. The thunder hasn’t stopped either and it’s amplifying how intense it all feels with him right now but, then, it always does when he talks about the big, life altering things he wants with you.

Slowly, he pushes in, grip on your hips tightening with every aching inch he gives to you until he’s fully seated. Those hands run up the expanse or your body beneath your shirt as he gathers the fabric and gently pulls it over your head as you lift up towards him. Only then, after a quick look down your body to the place you’re both connected, does he lay himself down on you. 

Face still shiny with what you’ve given him already, he smiles into the small, closed lipped kiss he presses into you.

“Your mustache is soaked,” you tell him when he pulls back, trying to ignore the pulsing inside of you. 

Those lines of concentration back between his eyebrows, he nods and starts to pull out of you before pushing back in with a groan. “And this needy little pussy is why.” 

“Is pussy an appropriate word for a highly educated English teacher to be using?” You ask, goading him into coming back down and pressing that tongue of his into your mouth this time. “Such profanities are unbecoming of such a man—“

“Your cunt,” he interrupts you, one hand coming up to rest around your throat, “is so wet that I can feel it pulling me deeper and all I’m doing is just sitting here, looking at you and trying not to bust early.” 

“It's okay if you do," you shrug. “You've already given me an orgasm.” 

But he shakes his head and leans back down, tells you to open your mouth and spits there too before pushing his tongue flat down on yours. It catches you off guard just enough that his first real thrust is even more of a surprise and that grip he holds on your throat moves to cradles the back of your head.

The sounds in the bedroom are lewd and only covered by the sound of the rain and thunder that continue to shake the walls of your home. 

He’s not rushing, though. Not trying to run through you like just another task. The care he takes with and the concentration he places into you are the reasons you find yourself over the edge in such achingly efficient time. But that doesn’t mean he follows you over and calls it a night. 

No, he takes his time until you’re nothing but jelly in his hold. Eyes glazed over, curls wrapped around your fingers and begging for breath and God and him with every thrust that feels like it goes deeper and deeper. 

“Are you going to make fun of me if I tell you I love you?” You ask against his lips as his concentration and pace both start to falter. “Because ovulating or not, you would’ve still fucked me like this just for having a bad day and I-I—oh fuck—” Your muscles are seizing up beneath the surface of your skin and it pushes a moan straight into his greedy mouth. 

“I would never make fun of you,” he breathes out heavily. “I would fuck you like this even if we couldn’t have kids; I will fuck you like this on every good day or bad day you have for the rest of your life if that’s what you want.”

Languid and slow, the way his tongue moves against yours is confusing your interpretation of his rhythm between your legs even as it picks up again. Every nerve in your body is screaming for him, alive and on fire beneath him and around him with his soft kisses and hard thrusts. 

A deep sigh of relief finally leaves his lips as he swells inside of you and warmth rushes through you and out around him to start pooling and cooling beneath your bare body. 

Being finished doesn’t mean he leaves though. He stays inside of you, twitching and thrusting occasionally as he continues kissing you with his hands hooked around your shoulders and every ounce of his body weight pressing down into you. 

This man treats you with an intimacy you never knew could exist. Not for you, at least. He is hungry and in love and both insatiable for and always satisfied with you. He reads you like he wrote you; knowledge of your body and your brain and your heart encoded so deeply into him and you know—you feel it deep down in the pit of your being—that this will only grow as you do and your family does.

"Did that help get all the thoughts out of your head, sweetheart?” He asks, laying his forehead against yours.

A few deep breaths is all the confirmation he needs until, finally, you say, “I think I forgot to turn off the air conditioner.” 

[exquisiteserotonin]

I haven't written fic in such a long time, but Pedro is such a muse. Also I initially thought my writings were going to be on my original tumblr, but I decided to move them here for organization. Enjoy! <3

Better Than Vanilla

Mr. Ben x F! Reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Pairing: Mr. Ben (SNL) x F!Reader (HS English Teacher)

Warnings: 18+,MDNI, Explicit content, SMUT, language, oral sex (male and female receiving), light bondage, PIV sex, praise, Mr. Ben is the consent king.

“So, when you get a steal, you have to conference with your team,” you emphasize, hoping that your exasperation wasn’t obvious.

One of the 6 students in your classroom began crunching on a snack he reached for in his backpack.

“Ugh!” exclaimed one of the female students, snapping a dirty look at him. “He’s not being serious!”

The student raised his hands and shrugged, “What? I’m hungry? Coach, pleeeease?”

The urge to roll your eyes grew as you heard the student whine. Ben, your colleague and academic team co-advisor, snatched up the packet of Voortman vanilla wafers.

“Thanks for the snack, kid!” he quipped as placed the wafers on your desk with a wink before turning back to your group of students. “I think we’re gonna call it a day, don’t you think?”

A sigh of relief floated from your students as they hoisted on their backpacks to leave. You also felt a weight lift off your chest and shoulders as the left. A small smile was all you could muster as the last of them shuffled out of your room. Two students lingered behind giggling as they asked Mr. Ben for extra advice. You sauntered over to your desk and sunk into your chair, organizing the mountain of papers screaming to be graded. Meanwhile the two lingerers continued their giggles as they left your classroom. Their goodbye to you was friendly and quick, the opposite of the one they offered to your counterpart.

“Bye, Mr. Beeeeeeeen.”

It escaped their lips like a squeal. Adding a groan to your eye roll seemed apropos, but you managed to keep your composure. Supervising and sponsoring an extracurricular club full of hormonal teenagers was a small price to pay, especially if it meant more money in your paycheck. You at least had the company of a colleague despite him being the object of infatuation for nearly half the student body of St Lawrence High School. Ben sat at the corner of your desk, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater and button-up shirt.

“Thanks for taking those, by the way,” you commented as he grabbed the confiscated vanilla wafers and popped one in his mouth, savoring it.

“God, I love these!” he declared, devouring another one after the first.

“Ugh, why,” you questioned, “they’re so boring.”

“You’re probably eating them wrong,” he teased. “If you let the wafer sit in your mouth a little bit, you can feel the vanilla cream just kind of melt all over.”

You cleared your throat at his description. It sounded sinful and gave you enough pause to briefly reconsider the wafers as an inferior snack. Lifting your gaze to him, you reaffirmed your resolve, “nope, too vanilla.”

He was interested in you, that much you could sense. A combination of professionalism and apprehension prohibited you from any kind of active pursuit.

A little flirting is harmless, your mind spoke. Right?

He shrugged before finishing the last of the wafers.

“How do you think they’re doing?” He asked, pointing his chin towards the door where your students had exited.

“They’re so smart,” you replied and tapped his forearm with pencil , “but I think they’re easily distracted.”

“By me?” He scoffed, throwing his hands up.

“Yeah, I know, I don’t get it,” you teased, “Must be the way you wear your tie.”

“Ha ha. Very funny,” he said dryly, playfully tossing a white board eraser at you as you opened your laptop. “Are you seriously doing more work right now? It’s Friday.”

“Hey, I’m still considered the new girl in town,” you replied as you set a stack of papers next to you to grade, “I still have to earn my keep.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall, approaching your classroom. In the doorway stood Jenny, a close friend to you and best friend to Ben.

Her arms crossed in front of her, she tutted before speaking, “you’re not seriously working this late on a Friday?!”

“That’s exactly what I told her!”

“You’re coming out with us, right?” Jenny asked. “With me, Ben, and Kate?”

“I’m trying to be good and finish these grades up; I’ve been procrastinating,” was the explanation you offered.

“It’s Friday, we’ve been here all week; do it tomorrow,” Ben suggested, giving Jenny a hug before bouncing out of your classroom. “I’m gonna head home for a minute and I’ll meet you guys there.”

“You got it,” Jenny agreed.

“Make sure this one doesn’t stay here too late,” he commented, directing his eyes to you.

Jenny nodded and you furiously began entering grades in your laptop as he left. Grabbing a student chair, she parked herself in front of your desk. The quick clicks and clacks of your typing echoed over the peaceful silence of your room. Soon she was leaning over your desk with a grin and a raised brow. She knew you well enough to realize that it wouldn’t take too much convincing to close your laptop and join her for some post-work revelries. Instead of continuing to try to convince yourself to be productive, you gave into the invitation, but not before gauging the situation a little further.

“Wait a second, this isn’t a work thing, is it?”

“Oh god, no!” Jenny sneered. “You know they’re not exactly our people.”

Your agreement with Jenny was an understatement. It wasn’t that you disliked working at St. Lawrence. The prestige that came with being a student there was also bound to the excellence of the faculty and staff. The administrators would beam at any good news that followed the people that worked at the school. This also meant being hired at the school was no easy task, especially when parents paid for a certain level of prestige. A sense of entitlement would sometimes extend to their colleagues, sometimes making team building insufferable.

“Kate’s going?” you asked Jenny, speaking of her girlfriend who did not work at the school.

She nodded, helping you pack your things and walking you out of the building and towards her silver Honda Civic.

“Do you need a ride?” Jenny teased, “you know, in case things get a little bit wild.”

“Sure, we can carpool,” you agreed. “And please, things aren’t going to get that wild.”

You took off your too-formal blazer that you had worn for most of the school day and straightened your pencil skirt before you sat in the passenger seat. You looked over with suspicion at Jenny and noticed her making an extra effort to maintain a reserved silence. As she started to drive, she glanced at you, tightening her lips.

“Are you going to give Ben a chance this time?”

You rolled your head and eyes towards her and an exasperated, but involuntary laugh escaped you.

“So, there it is.” You sighed, now fully aware of her intentions. “Why do you always try to set me up with him?”

“Because you are attractive, he is attractive, you’re both intelligent and single,” Jenny stated matter-of-factly. “And I love you both dearly and you two would make the cutest couple.”

You smiled in appreciation of your friend’s efforts. With it only being your second year of teaching at St. Lawrence, navigating friendships was still difficult as many of the teachers had been working there for a decade or more. You latched onto Jenny quickly, first as a department colleague and next as a kindred spirit in personality and interests. She urged you to sponsor the academic team this school year, knowing that her best friend in the math department, Ben, would be co-sponsor. Trusting her judgment, you knew that he was at the very least safe and respectful.

“What are you thinking?” Jenny's eyes twinkled. “You know he thinks you’re pretty hot.”

“Jenny, shut up!”

You shifted in your seat, trying to suppress your increasing intrigue. Aside from his math expertise and help in planning the academic team, “Mr. Ben’s” good-natured reputation among staff preceded him. He had always been friendly and managed to bring entertainment to even the most mundane faculty meeting. And of course, you also were most recently inundated with the way students giggled, blushed, and ogled him as he walked through the halls. As much as you hated to admit it, especially to yourself, he was pretty cute. The TikTok incident at the school assembly was to blame, you convinced yourself.

“I mean,” you paused, an image of him eating vanilla wafers at your desk flashed in your brain, “I guess he‘s cute, he’s just—he just seems so…vanilla.”

“VANILLA?!” Jenny’s voice squeaked incredulously, and it caught you by surprise. “Are you serious?”

“He wears pullover cashmere sweaters!” You cried with laughter.

“We can’t all be perfect!” she laughed with you.

Before you realized it, you had arrived at a restaurant far enough from campus, decreasing the likelihood that you’d run into any teachers or parents from your school. Jenny studied you as you got out of the car. She undid the top two buttons of your dusty pink blouse, revealing a slinky, tan, lace bodysuit you had beneath.

“Ooh, you hussy,” she teased, adding with a wink, “by the way, Ben is probably about as vanilla as you.”

The last few words silenced you. You felt your eyes get wide and felt heat growing on the apples of your cheeks.

Trying to recompose yourself, you followed Jenny inside. Ahead of you, Jenny spotted her girlfriend, Kate, who gave her a bright smile and a sweet peck to her lips.

They then lead you to a u-shaped booth with plush, rich, teal fabric peaking at the edge. And then him. Ben. You stole a glance at Jenny before she pushed you in front of her and into the booth.

“Hey Mr. Ben,”  you greeted.

“Just Ben,” he replied with a boyish grin, “we’re not at work, we don’t need to use the formalities.”

You nodded and slid closer to him, as Jenny followed you into the booth. The proximity provided a different window for you to look at him. His brown wavy hair was perfectly mussed; his shoulders were loose, relaxed, and he had even discarded the confines of his tie and cashmere sweater. Amplifying his breeziness was how he had not one, not two, but three buttons undone on his pale, terracotta colored shirt. They whispered to you to peek at his neck and chest which always remained hidden during the school day. It was as though you were bearing witness to something you weren’t supposed to see. The thought warmed your cheeks.

Maybe Jenny was right. Maybe he wasn’t as vanilla as you presumed.

“You didn’t take my advice from earlier,” he stated plainly, “you stayed at work late!”

“Hey, it wasn’t that late,” you retorted, teasingly pushing into him with your shoulder and hip.

“Jenny texted me that you almost didn’t come out with us,” he murmured, a trace of disappointment soaked in his words as he took another sip of his beer. “I’m really glad you didn’t.”

He pressed into your side so your shoulders touched.

“Hmm,” you mused, wondering what more you could pull from him, “really glad, huh?”

“Well,” his lips appeared poutier in thought, “I had to see if you were more than just an amazing…brain with a good work ethic.”

His tone had you thinking sinfully again, just as when he described the vanilla wafers.

“I guess you’re about to find out,” you replied, the words coming out with ease and your tone like honey trapping a fly with sticky sweetness.

Ben looked at you with surprise, giving you a smirk and a wink. That wink was dangerous.

“What are you drinking?”

“I should ask you that,” you stated, grazing his thumb that rested on his beer mug, “is that a bock, pils, a lager?”

Ben looked at you with a raised brow, impressed. He tipped his beer towards you in acknowledgement and beckoned for a waiter to come to their booth. The response was quick, a young woman rushing to your table.

“My friend right here will have a Yuengling, like me,” he touched the small of your back and then leaned over you to get Jenny’s attention.

A tingle climbed up your spine, like electricity climbing up your back, and down again igniting every nerve ending. You fidgeted in your seat and fixed your gaze at him. You tapped your foot, counted inside your head, and observed to see if the electricity would leave. It didn’t. 

Fuck, you thought. This is new.

Your attention found its way back to you. It was possible that Ben had asked Jenny what she wanted to drink, since you heard her request for an Old Fashioned. A different kind of clarity took over you as you kept your eyes on him, like seeing something in high definition. His nose was prominent and strong. His facial hair grew in endearing patches. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, revealing a dimple on his right cheek.

“What convinced you to finally come out with us?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” you replied thoughtfully, “the promise that there would be no unwanted co-workers here.”

Ben scratched at the patchy facial hair on his chin and turned to you. His chocolatey brown eyes were big, expectant, and you swore you noticed a not-so-innocent twinkle in them.

“How’s that working out for you?”

Before you could answer, the server returned with your drinks. She handed Jenny her Old Fashioned but before you could reach your hand to take your beer, Ben took hold of it and handed it to you. It was an authentic attempt at being charming. A self-study of the consistent butterflies fluttering in your abdomen floating up to your chest, neck and shoulders declared to you that his attempt was working.

“I guess the kids were right, Ben,” you admitted, “you are in your assembly era.”

He guffawed, his voice rich and throaty. He shook his head and ran his right hand through his hair.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

With an up and down nod of your head you confirmed his answer and turned towards Jenny, “and neither are you, mommy.”

Jenny nearly choked on her old fashioned as you reminded her of her role in the fancam debacle.

“First of all, yes, I am mommy,” she affirmed and looked intently at Ben before shifting her eyes to you to wink, “and second of all, those kids don’t need to be messing in our romantic business anyway.”

Suddenly, Ben became bashful. You swore his cheeks turned the same shade of reddish pink as his shirt. Vanilla or not, you decided that Jenny’s testament of him as a good human being was worth further exploration.

For the rest of the evening, you and Ben traded life stories over intermittent drinks. Things you discovered about each other included siblings, your older brother to his  older sister and younger brother. You found he was passionate not just about teaching, but math as well and was too much of a kid to work with adults 24/7. His favorite part of teaching, like yours, was to advocate for students who never had anyone to believe in them. And a shared love of late 90s, early 2000s alternative rock led you two to engage in heavy critique of the cover band playing for the evening.

“What do you think of the band?” he asked at one point during their set.

“If they play Creed, it’s over, I’m peace-ing out,” you replied in a deadpan voice.

He keeled over in laughter, leaning over towards your shoulder.

Fuck, you thought to yourself. He smells so good.

You found yourself staring at his neck and the hint of chest beneath his unbuttoned shirt. It made you feel shallow. You glanced at your watch as a distraction, noting it was nearly midnight. Jenny had been ushered out at Kate’s behest, indicating that the whiskey was making her extra drunk and extra sleepy. You were now without a ride.

“My driver left me,” you sighed to Ben.

“Oh shit,” Ben remarked, “I would offer to take you home, but I might have to Uber it---I’m not sure I can drive.”

An inspired proposition entered your mind. A conflict waged in your mind, contemplating all the ways this evening could end and the one way you wanted it to, “Um…well, we could share an Uber.”

“Well, sure,” he replied earnestly, “if you don’t mind.”

He followed you as you beckoned him outside with a single look. As you stood before each other, you noted the broadness of his shoulders as he reached his hands over his head to stretch, rolling his shoulders up and then down the length of his back. You caught a glimpse of the elastic of his boxer briefs and his belly. The physicality of his movements was enticing and kept the tingling flame you felt earlier in your stomach alight, willing it to travel lower between your legs.

I’m fucked. You thought to yourself.

Ben opened the car door for you. You slid in and he followed, his knee brushing against your leg where your pencil skirt had slid up a few inches. Ben slid in, reaching over, grazing the exposed skin of your thigh with his hand. He looked up at you holding your gaze captive for what seemed like minutes.

“Sorry,” his voice came out in a gravelly hush.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you countered, biting your lip involuntarily.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you spoke softly, keeping your eyes on him.

A grin grew on Ben’s face. “Same.”

Emboldened with desire, your hand caressed the mapwork of veins on his forearm, gently tracing the curve of his knuckles, and the lines on his fingers until he opened his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You watched, transfixed, as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. He turned to face you, your noses just a few inches apart. You tilted your head and perused the shape of his pouty lips, soft, and inviting. Nuzzling your nose to his, your lips nearly touched his sweet pout.

“I’m going to ask you in,” the confession melted off your tongue.

He took another deep breath, and you swear that once again, for the third time that evening, his cheeks were quickly painted red. The car began to slow as you noticed it approaching your neighborhood, until it stopped in front of your modest, but adorable mid-century home. You slid out of the car, leaving your door open for him to follow. When he did, your exhalation threatened to consume you. A hot-blooded thumping coursing through your body. He closed the car door gently behind him, thanking the driver with a wave before he turned to follow up on the walkway to your door.

Fumbling for your keys, you felt him close in behind you, feeling the heat escaping  from your body and his. A tiny gasp escaped as you felt his hand behind you, touching you first at the small of your back and then circling around to land at your hip. He stepped forward and pulled your body close. Instantly, you felt a tenting build in his pants, pressing himself against you while you unlocked the door. Reverberating tingles vibrating over every inch of your skin. His other hand caressed up your triceps, to your shoulders, gently brushing the hair away from your neck leaving goose bumps behind in their wake. Replacing his hand, his nose caressed your neck, breathing you until you felt his lips taste you with gentle kisses.

“Fuck me,” he panted, warms breaths leaving him as your touch pulsated through every cell in his body.

“That’s the plan,” you smirked and growled at him

You rushed into the house, shoving the door closed behind you. Your lips caressed his Adam’s apple, breathing him in as you licked, kissed, and nibbled on his neck and ear. A growl rattled from him to your ears, his heat rising from his body with each touch. You pressed your lips hungry meeting his soft pout. Instinctively your hands weaved through the soft waves of his hair, until you tugged at it. Not too hard, not too soft but just enough for him to open his mouth with a gasp, allowing you to savor the taste of his bottom lip with your tongue until you met his tongue with fervor.

You pulled from him to take a breath of frenzied desire as you simultaneously attacked each other’s buttons. You marveled at his broad chest and shoulders as you pulled back his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. A wanton dizziness took over you as his large hands pulled you effortlessly towards him. His bulge throbbed against you as you pressed your pelvis into his, gasping and heady with desire. Electric desire moved through you, your skin on fire as a primal lust darkened his eyes while he studied your tits and how your nipples stood at attention, beneath the tan, lacy fabric of your bodysuit.

“Fuck, baby,” the way he growled at you was decidedly not vanilla, “you’re so fucking pretty.”

Lips hot and swollen you grabbed him by the belt loops of his slacks, pulling him towards your bedroom. A giddy gasp escaped you when the jingle of his loose belt buckle reached your ears, sliding it free from its confines tossing and onto your bed.

Ben caressed your shoulders and began to play with the thin straps of your body suit pulling them slowly down your arms, down the fabric covering your breasts, ruching the fabric as he slid it down to your waist. A moan escaped lips as he pulled you with one hand at your waist and the other found a home at your neck with the perfect amount of pressure. A yelp left you as he pushed back against you until you felt the edge of the bed behind your knees, where you fell together.

His mouth found your right nipple licking the numb in tight circles before taking a small bite. The fire on your skin grew hotter from the wet heat of his tongue and it left you panting for more. His deep laugh rumbled from his chest to yours. In his dark eyes he reveled at how he was slowly making you come undone. That pout of his traveled the valley of your chest and gave your other nipple the same attention.

You felt his hardening cock against your thigh and your core began to pound and cry for him. Reaching your hand to his boxer briefs you pull at his cock, eliciting a low moan as your hands slid off the barrier keeping you from his thick hard member. You looked down and your eyes widened at his size. An astonished gulp left your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock. Your grip barely closed around its girth as you stroked up and down his entire length. A tear of precum escaped the tip. You look up at him deviously and bring your tongue down to taste the saltiness of him. You then wrap your lips around him, taking as much of him in as you possibly can, causing your cheeks to hollow. The taste of him was a perfect combination of sweet and musky and sometimes salty as a hint of more precum coated your tongue.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he moaned through gritted teeth. “Stop, wait.”

You released him with an audible pop, pouting a little bit.

“I just want to make you feel good.”

“Fuck, are you real?” He sighed, brushing his hands through wavy locks.

You nodded and then gasped as he grabbed you and tossed you on the bed like a rag doll. An excited moan leapt from you through heaving breaths as you savored the feeling of his naked body as he crawled over you. A different expression took over his gentle face as he caressed you and kissed your inner biceps as he raised both of your hands above your head. His hot breath branded you as he began to whisper into your ear.

“Can I cuff you with my belt,” he growled.

A whimper escaped you. You were no stranger to being cuffed, but the offer from Ben was…unexpected. The wetness at your core grew when he asked and all you could do was nod.

“Good thing you picked the correct answer,” he sighed, satisfying his hunger with a taste of your lips.

“I like this,” you keened, “this side of you.”

“Good, because you’re going to do exactly as I say,” the demand made you breathless. “You’re going to move when I say you move. You’re going to cum when I let you cum and I’m going to fuck you, when I’m ready.”

“Ben--,” you called out his name like a mantra.

He grabbed his belt from where you had tossed it on the bed. His hands moved with the quick competence of a man who had definitely done this before. The deftness in the way looped the leather as he cuffed your wrists with the perfect amount of pressure left you panting.

“You sure this is OK?” he asked, his fingers gingerly stroking your face and lips.

You opened your mouth taking one digit, swirling your tongue around it, and sucking the tip.

You nod and replied, “Consent is so fucking sexy.”

He smiled and kissed your lips, neck, and breasts. He pulled your pencil skirt from your body, but tortuously left you in your bodysuit, damp with heat of your desire. Your breaths were heavy with anticipation as he traveled to your ankle, up your calf, to your knee, to your inner thigh, until he floated closer to your center. His nose breathed in the scent of your wet core and his broad shoulders pushed your legs apart, licking at the fabric that separated her from his tongue.

“God, you’re so wet for me already,” he moaned, kissing, and licking the fabric again causing shivers to erupt all over your body.

“Ben!” You cried and you writhed beneath him. “Please.”

Your wrists strained against the thick leather of his belt, desperate to touch and grip his body with your hands. our back when you heard him chuckle as he pulled the thin fabric of the bottom of your bodysuit to the side. He flattened his tongue, pressing it through your folds and up to your clit. Like a man starved, he devoured you licking up and down, up, and down and then circling and sucking at your clit. Then he took sanctuary there, making it his place of worship, circling you, sucking you and then licking you again, between maddeningly slow and unbearably fast. A jolt twisted through your body when he slowed down to a stop.

“Oh fuck, Ben, please,” you begged, “I need to cum, please, let me cum.”

“You sure?” his voice full of wanton lust.

You bucked your hips towards him, and you felt his soft pouty lips smirk into your core. His large hands ripped the thin, cheap fabric of your bodysuit, tossing it to the floor. A lascivious chuckle rumbled from his chest as his hands seized your hips before putting his mouth back to work on you. You were devoured, as if you were the last and best meal he would ever have. You trembled slowly at first, your core beginning to quiver and quake. The quaking moved outwards from your core, ready to erupt within your body, as he teased, licked, and sucked, slowing down, or speeding up until you cried out his name begging for mercy.

“Oh god, Ben; you’re so good,” you wailed, the leather becoming tauter around your wrists. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes while your breaths became more and more ragged.

“Yes, sweetheart, cum for me, cum for me then I’ll fuck you.”

An order, not a request.

A tightness began resonating outward from your core, as Ben latched his mouth to your clit and suddenly you felt him push not one, but two fingers deep inside you, finger fucking you relentlessly until you could do nothing but cry out and scream his name. Your own personal mantra. A merciless spark took over your body until every inch of you trembled, as a wetness spread onto your sheets beneath you.

“Wow, baby, you are amazing,” he sighed, granting you a moment to regain your composure.

It felt as though you had run a marathon, you were breathing so hard.

“Was that?” You asked in shock through breaths, “did I?”

“Yes, and it was amazing,” he confirmed, releasing your hands from his thick leather belt. “Don’t tell me you’ve never squirted before.”

You shook your head vigorously, the freedom of your hands allowing you to pull his face towards you in a passionate kiss. He growled over you, capturing you by the waist, allowing your bodies to savor the heat and sweat from one another.

“You taste so good,” he praised. “Sorry about your bodysuit, I guess I’ll have to buy you a new one.” 

It didn’t matter. Clothes just seemed like an annoying inconvenience. You needed to be naked with him. You felt how rock hard his member was, upright and ready for you.

“Ben, please, I need you inside me.”

“Condom?”

You held his gaze before speaking, “I’m clean and protected, you?”

The excitement rose within you again at his confirmation. He leaned over you, his eyes almost black with lust. He pushed your legs apart with his muscular thighs before kneeling upright, his large, capable hands dragging your hips towards him. He wrapped your legs around his hips as he grabbed the base of his throbbing cock, slapping it to your clit, nearly making you scream. Your heart pounded into your ears as he lined up his tip to your glistening entrance. He pushed through your slickness, inch by inch, agonizingly slow, rewarding you with his pulsating girth . You threw your head back, nearly sobbing as he stretched you. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders as he rolled his hips into yours, moving his length in and out.

“You’re so big, you feel so good,” you praised as you felt him increase his pace.

“I’m never leaving this pretty little cunt,” he groaned as he rolled and thrust into you.

“Faster, baby, fuck me harder, faster,” you implored.

His thick fingers pressed into your hips, and he began to drive into you exactly as you asked, pounding into your tight, wet cunt. Your name left his lips in repeated growls through gritted teeth. It was like he fucking owned you. A gravelly hiss leaves his throat as your walls rippled and squeezed his thick cock. He thrusted deep into you, hitting your g-spot and you gifted him with a loud moan of his name, your voice unable to form any other words.

His left hand pressed down hard at the base of your neck, and you felt his thrusts begin to roll into you at a slower pace. With his right hand, he lifted your knee towards your chest, hooking it over his shoulder. A pleading whimper escaped your lips when it felt like he was almost completely out of you. But as quickly as the thought drifted in, he pounded into you even harder than before. The pleasure was amplified one-hundred times with the newfound angle. The way his cock pounded your g-spot was somehow better this way and just as you thought it couldn’t get more perfect, Ben took his hand from your neck and began circling your clit with his thumb.

You let out a long, loud moan, crying out his name in a never-ending chant. “Ben! I can’t, my pussy can’t, I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck, me too, baby,” he moaned with each thrust. “Wh—where, can I?”

“Cum inside me!” you demanded.

His cock throbbed and reverberated in you, until you found it impossible to contain everything you felt. Your orgasm washed all over you, your core quivering and every part of your body shaking as he thrust in with every bit of strength he had. Not once, not twice, but three more times, he chased your high with his own until you felt him fill you with ropes of his sweet, hot cum. Your voice cried out with him as he hissed and moaned through his own orgasm. His cock stayed sheathed within you, savoring how your core pulsated around him. He released his hands from your hips and slowly he pulled out of you. You let out a luxurious gasp, feeling a twinge of sadness from not feeling him inside you anymore.

A breath of satisfied exhaustion left him as he rolled next to you, but he also deftly found a way to wrap you in his arms, pulling you close into him. You came down from your high together and you listened intently to his heartbeat as you caressed his chest gently with your fingers. He brought his left hand to yours and began to mirror your gentle touches, bringing your palm to his lips kissing the inside of it. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pulled you even closer, your legs tangled together, your bodies still glowing. You closed your eyes, breathing him in as you felt the velvety soft touch of his fingers caressing your hair and your shoulders. He pressed his soft lips to your forehead, a kiss so gentle it stood in direct contrast to how relentlessly he had fucked you. And it all felt right.

You looked up at him and he held his gaze to yours. A serene smile grew on your face, your cheeks flushing with a rosy warmth. 

“Wow,” was the only thing that could leave your lips as you caught your breath.

The balmy air of sex hovered over you. A feeling of surprise and giddiness mixed in with the afterglow as you thought of the pale pink impressions the leather of his belt left on your wrists. Just thinking of the way he controlled your body with his tongue, hands, and cock was almost enough to make your arousal reawaken.

“Mmmm, that was not…vanilla,” you exhaled, chuckling at the thought of him eating those snack wafers, “you are an enigma, sweet Ben.”

“Thank you, I think?” He laughed.

Your hand traced up his Adam’s apple, snuggling against him and caressing your fingers along his endearingly patchy facial hair. You propped yourself up and brought your face close to his, nuzzling your nose against his, inviting him in for a sensual kiss.

“I promise you, it’s a good thing,” a giggle escaped your lips. “Even just laying here with you is…it’s something.”

“Something you want to try again?” he asked, his breath hitching as he waited for your answer.

“Fuck yeah,” you replied without hesitation. “But…”

“Uh oh, there’s a…butt!” He laughed, as he smacked your behind, tingling your core again with desire.

“Ben,” you laughed with him, gently caressing the soft skin of his pelvis, “what I was going to say is, ‘yes, there is a 100 percent chance of this happening again,’ as long as you take me out on a real date.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you the most attractive and radiant smile.

“How does breakfast sound?”

“Mmmm,” you whispered, pulling your soft bed sheets over the two of you, “I would love that.”

Thank you to my darling friends @legendary-pink-dot & @blueheat1-blog for beta-ing this for me! &lt;3

[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.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Aahhh thank you for reading! It actually wasn't going to take a spicy turn but I had SO MANY people reach out asking for the spicy part 2 I had to write it! Any excuse to write Teacher Ben

What the Hell Are Fancams? Part 2

Pairing: Teacher Ben x f! Teacher reader

Word Count: 1400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: The highly requested sequel to What the Hell Are Fancams? Part 1 is linked below

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist 

Teacher Ben Masterlist

What the Hell are Fancams Part 1

He kisses me again and starts to pull away, but I grip his tie tighter and pull him back down. His eyebrows scrunch together in a question. 

"Let's go check if your classroom is empty."

The question drops, lips hitching up in a knowing smile as he slides his fingers between mine, pulling me down the hall to his room. 

Ben's hands shake slightly as he jams his room key into the lock, opening the door and pulling me inside, quickly closing and locking the door behind us. 

He turns to me, not quite meeting my eyes as his hands wipe nervously at his sides.

"S-so, uh… my room..is, uh…" 

He's so adorable when he's nervous. 

"Hey Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He nods and steps closer to me, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He's about a step away when he stops and finally looks me in the eyes.

"Are..what… I don't want to presume-"

"Ben," I close the distance, tugging on his tie slightly to bring his face close to mine, lips just barely above his. "If it's consent you're looking for, you have it."

He lets out a huff of air. "For..for what?"

"For this."

I kiss him, his soft lips pressing against mine, his tongue hesitantly pushing against my lips to push them apart. His hand grips the back of my head, his other hand settling nervously on my hip. His tie is still clutched in one of my hands, the other sliding around the back of his head to tug at his hair. He moans into my mouth and it flies through me, lighting me up. 

We stay like that a few moments before I break the kiss, taking a few breaths.

"Touch me, Ben." I whisper and he nods, lips finding mine again and I feel his hand slide up the side of my body, rubbing small circles with his thumb into my skin. His hand keeps moving around my back, finding the zipper of my dress. He pulls back, fingers gripping the zipper pull as he looks down at me one last time, making sure I'm still OK. 

"Please," I'm not above begging at this point. 

He smiles, the corner of his mouth curling up as he slides the zipper down about halfway, encouraging me to pull my arms from the sleeves. I quickly push my sleeves down and stand there with my dress around my waist and my bra on display. I look at him for a moment before I feel him fumble with the hook at my back.

"Shit. I've never been good at bras."

I laugh, moving my hands around to undo it. "That doesn't matter to me."

I unhook it and take it off, holding it for a moment before throwing it in the direction of his desk. Ben's eyes leave mine and slide down my chest, taking in my breasts as he moves to touch them. 

But instead of his hands, his mouth finds them first, tongue lapping at a nipple and I whine his name, one hand on his shoulder and the other still tangled in his hair. He treats the other the same, a light chuckle coming from him at the increasing desperation in the sounds he pulls from me.

He kisses a path up my chest and finds my lips again, kissing me for several moments before pulling back. 

I grab his tie and tug, walking backwards towards his desk. He senses what I'm doing and clears a small spot, helping me to sit on the edge. He's standing before me, eyes blown wide and dark. I spread my legs and pull him in, still gripping his tie. My legs close behind him, pushing his hips into mine and I can feel every inch of him pressing into me through our clothes, hard and wanting. 

"Can I have you?" Ben asks, so sweet and so quiet, like he's afraid to hear the answer. 

"I need you, Ben. Please." 

He smiles, kissing me as his hand slides up my bare thigh, disappearing under my dress. He palms me over my panties, finger sliding down my slit and I cry out.

"Oh shit!" 

His finger dips under my panties and I feel his skin on mine, sliding through me before he pushes his finger in, both of us moaning when he does. 

"You're so fucking wet for me."

"Only for you- oh fuck!" 

Ben adds another finger, his thumb rubbing at my clit. I throw my arm behind me on the desk to brace myself, leaning back and spreading my legs a little wider, my other hand clutching at his bicep. He leans forward, planting his own arm on the desk and kisses me, swallowing the moans I make when he starts tapping at that spongy spot inside of me. A few taps later and I'm seeing stars, breathing his name into his mouth as I come on his hand. 

"You make the hottest sounds," he says, slowly pulling his hand from me. 

He gives me a second to remember myself and chuckles when I do, because he feels me frantically trying to undo his belt. 

"Are you ready for me? It's OK if you've changed your min-"

"I need you now, Ben. Please I need you inside me."

"Fuck!"

He moves my fumbling hand away and unzips his pants, moving them down far enough to pull himself out. I don't look, my eyes locked on his face as he strokes himself a few times, pressing the tip of himself to my hole. His eyes are on me as he pushes in, my head flying back as he stretches me open. He's definitely bigger than anyone I've ever had, not that there's many to compare to. But fuck does he feel amazing. I feel like every inch of me is being stroked, stimulated. 

Finally he bottoms out and we stay joined like that for a moment, each breathing hard and Ben giving me a moment to adjust. He pulls out slowly and pushes in just as slow, repeating his slow thrusts a few times. 

But then he adds an extra thrust once he's fully inside of me and I cry his name, my vision going temporarily as he ruts into that spot he's found, his name spilling from my lips with every thrust. 

"Oh fuck, Ben! I'm gonna-"

That's all the warning I can give before I'm screaming his name, feeling his large hand cover my mouth in case anyone was walking past the room. It's not long before I feel his hips sputter and I break the kiss.

"I'm safe. You can come inside."

"Oh fuck!"

Ben comes with soft grunts, biting my shoulder as he spurts inside of me, hips still slowly rutting into mine. I lay back fully on his desk, Ben's head dropping to my stomach as we both just lay there and breathe for several moments. He kisses my stomach a few times before kissing a path up to my lips. 

"God you're hot," he says, looking down at me. 

"Have you seen yourself?"

He blushes, mumbling something to himself. 

"Hold on, I have… just hold on."

Ben gently pulls himself from my with a soft grunt, tucking himself in his pants and zipping them up. He moves around his desk and rummages through a drawer, coming back around with some baby wipes and a handkerchief, holding them out to me. 

"Is this a handkerchief? Who has these anymore?"

"Hey now, its finally come in useful."

"Touché." I clean myself up, getting dressed, Ben helping me with my zipper. His fingers linger on my skin and I feel a familiar tingle starting. 

"So you uh… still want to get dinner? With me?" Ben sounds insecure, like I'll turn him down. 

I smile, grabbing his hand and kissing it. "Absolutely. When?"

"Now?"

"I'd love to Ben, but-"

His eyes turn sad. "You're too busy. I get it-"

"No, Ben. We're supposed to be chaperoning the dance."

His hand flies to his forehead, smacking it hard. "The dance! I completely forgot!"

I laugh and he joins in, taking my hand as he leads me back towards the gym where the dance is still going strong. Before we enter, he pulls me over to a dark corner, kissing me deeply.

"How about after the dance?"

A year later, and we're married. 

And yes, the fancams went insane. 

—---

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @Withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics  

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Pedialite - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Ten of Pedrotober: Fav Tee/Candids Pedrotober hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Mr. Ben x f!reader

Rating: I'd say G except there's no G in National Treasure. But it's still rated G anyway.

Word Count: 1001

a/n: I took a little liberty with this one and am mostly calling back to my favorite Pedro post of all time. It cracks me up every time I think about it. This one is set in the same universe as "The Competition" and also mentions everyone's favorite rival science teacher, Noah!

Do you think some people have killed themselves over nausea?

You can't help the glance you make at the text that's lit up your phone, even as your students watch you with a suspicious gaze. They know something is up. They always did, but you still do your best to ignore your phone until the bell. But when it lights up again, and then repeatedly after that, one of the teenagers in front of you raises their hand.

"Are you going to check that?"

"Yeah," another student quickly chimes in, followed by a murmuring from the rest of the class, "is Mr. Ben okay?"

The urge to let out a deep sigh overwhelms you. These kids. Ever since your relationship went public, they took every opportunity to goad both of you. "Mr. Ben is fine," you insist. "Now, let's get back to Hamlet."

A groan fills the classroom.

"We know Mr. Ben is sick," someone calls out.

"Yeah, he has to be!"

Your quietest student in the front row even speaks up. "We just want to know if he's okay."

Your eyebrows shoot up and you take in the genuine expressions gazing at you. They weren't just asking because of the fan cams or whatever sort of complex they attributed to the staff of your high school. They were asking because of actual concern.

Something breaks in you, and you finally retreat to your desk to read through the copious texts he's sent over the last ten minutes. He'd been under the weather when you left him this morning, and you knew it was serious because your boyfriend never called out of work, but as you scroll through the messages you wonder if you should've stayed home with him.

Do you think some people have killed themselves over nausea?

Can you please get some pedialite on the way home?

Can you remind Noah that he's not to mess with the cabinet in the back???????

I hate being sick

Also some bananas. they're good for this kind of thing

I think

You reminded Noah, right?

"What did he say?" a student asks, and when you look up their eyes are still trained on you.

"He's just asking me to pick up some Pedialite on the way home," you explain, which isn't a lie. You know they're waiting for more when they stare at you with eager expressions. "And some bananas," you add as though that will satisfy their curiosity.

Another hand goes up and you point toward them. "Mr. Ben is going to be okay though, right?"

You smile softly, looking around at the students that, at the end of the day, you both adore. "Yes, Mr. Ben will be just fine," you assure them as the phone in your hand lights up again.

Babe I'm dying

You shuffle the bags in your hands as you unlock the front door, about to call for your boyfriend when you realize he's sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep. His hair sticks up every which way and he looks a bit more pale than you'd like, but he's alive. Your students would be thrilled.

Once the bags are discarded on the kitchen counter, you tiptoe your way back to the living room, mindful of the trashcan he's placed next to him. It's empty. A good sign, at least. "Hey honey," you whisper, the back of your fingers pressing up against his forehead. Still warm, but not burning like this morning.

Ben groans, shifting into a ball as he clutches his stomach. It's obvious he's still not feeling well, and you frown as you watch him, wishing there was something else you could do. "Did you get the Pedialite?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah," you return softly. "And the bananas and some rice and crackers and chicken noodle soup." He only hums in response. "What are you doing out here?"

He cracks his eyes open to look at you. "Didn't feel like laying in bed anymore. Wanted to watch National Treasure."

You laugh as you continue to run your fingers through his hair in what you hope is a calming motion. You learned early in your relationship that National Treasure was one of his comfort movies. "You could've watched in the bedroom, you know." He's silent, so you continue. "Did you just watch the first one?"

"Saved the second for when you got home."

"Ah," you soothe, "well why don't we get you back in bed and we can watch it together then?" It takes a moment, but he slowly sits up, glancing at the trash can once before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "You gonna make it, babe?" you ask with a hand on his shoulder.

Ben looks at you, "I don't know. The jury's still out." He does look a little pale as you help him back to bed, but once he's tucked under the quilt with you beside him, he seems a bit better. His head is resting against your chest, one of his hands tracing circles on your hip, as his second favorite comfort movie plays on the TV.

"The kids were really worried about you today," you tell him as Nicholas Cage appears on screen. "I think they were genuinely concerned."

"Well yeah, if I died who are they going to make fan cams of?"

Laughter rumbles through both of you as you hold him a little tighter. "Guess they'd just have to move onto Noah."

His grip tightens. "You did tell him to stay away from my cabinet, right?"

"Oh, was I supposed to?" you tease, but when he pulls back to look at you with pure concern, you're quick to guide him back to your chest, smoothing his curls as you do. "Yes, honey, I told him not to look in your secret wall competition cabinet."

His weight settles back against you as he sighs, still uneasy. "You didn't look in it either, right?"

"Now how would I remain impartial if I did that?"

"Just checking."

[wannab-urs]

Mr. Ben (SNL) Masterlist

Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You Have Me In a Chokehold - smut | AO3

Type: one shot Word Count: 2.5k Summary: You’re a teacher at Mr. Ben’s school and you’re sitting in the “No More Fancams” assembly freaking out because he just showed your fancam on screen… Do you think he knows it was you? Tags: no ages implied (all legal obvi), hair pulling, sir kink, very mild degrading language, fingering, unprotected PiV (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) (also y’all are teachers, you should know better), rough-ish sex but no one gets hurt, Mr. Ben is girthy (Big Ben ;) ), brief mention of the picture of dorian gray, which deserves its own warning if you’ve ever tried to teach that book to teenagers, extreme cringe in the first half. Gets weirdly fluffy at the end so if that kills your vibe just stop reading after the uhhhh climax of the story (if you catch my drift). Sorry we support aftercare in this house

[miguel-owhora]

MASTERLIST GALORE

to be regularly updated :)

ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE

MIGUEL O'HARA - PETER B. PARKER

CALL OF DUTY

JOHN PRICE - KYLE GARRICK - SIMON RILEY - JOHN MACTAVISH - PHILLIP GRAVES - KONIG - VLADIMIR MAKAROV

MOON KNIGHT

STEVEN GRANT - MARC SPECTOR - JAKE LOCKLEY

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2

ARTHUR MORGAN - DUTCH VAN DER LINDE - HOSEA MATTHEWS - MICAH BELL - BILL WILLIAMSON - KIERAN DUFFY - SEAN MACGUIRE

MISC

OTHER SHIT - MINOR CHARACTERS - TASK FORCE 141 - AUS - MODERN COLLEGE!MORBELL/REACTION YOUTUBER!MICAH AU

© MIGUEL-OWHORA

[djarins-cyare]

Ahh thank you so much for including Be-All And Endor!! Happy to help your bingo efforts! 💖

(Still can’t believe I wrote that many words 😱)

Looong fic recs ✨

I'm still working on my own Pedro Pascal Fandom Bingo card 😂 and this is part of that. I was trying to decide what to do for the "create and share a rec list" square and thought about how much I like really long fics. So this is a short list of some of my favorites that are 100k words or more! (x reader unless otherwise marked)

Din

Be-All and Endor by @djarins-cyare (404k)

The World Is Light, Embodied by @davnittbraes (155k)

Joel

Cowboy Like Me by @macfrog (124k)

Something to Fight For by @auteurdelabre (166k)

Your Summer Dream by @swiftispunk (99k but I'm counting it because more is coming)

Dieter

Recovery Road by @chronically-ghosted (108k) (x OFC Natalie)

Frankie

Adrift With You by @morallyinept (120k words (so far?)) (x OFC Jude)

Shared Breaths by @frenchiereading (135k ish)

Mr. Ben

Visiting by @ladamedusoif (99.3k and it's still in progress so I'm counting it! I'm still catching up)

do you have any recs for looong fics?? please share them!

my bingo card

[reveluving]

Writing about Sam having visions of different versions of himself with different versions of their beloveds—you.

Mitch Keller & Darlin'.

Benny Miller & Angel.

Jack Mercer & Baby.

Making Sam wonder if he, too, would find his version of you.