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madhattervanessa · 2 years ago

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Read this AGAIN today and by god...

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

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.

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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.”

#teacher ben (snl)#mr. ben (snl)#teacher ben x reader #teacher ben x you #teacher ben fanfiction #mr. ben x reader #mr. ben x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #fic rec

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timbit-robin-art · 8 months ago

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It’s fantastin’ time.

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jtexplorer · 2 months ago

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@abbykmtr-13

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jazzy96scorpio · 18 days ago

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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.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #mr ben snl #teacher's pet #pedro pascal fanfic #teacher x student #teacher crush #forbidden love #pedro pascal x reader #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedrostories #Spotify

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peepawispunk · 3 months ago

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Reader returns to her alma mater ready to put her new teaching degree to use. It's remarkable how much has stayed the same at her old school, right down to her old teacher, Mr Ben.

She thought distance and time would have killed that old crush she'd had on Mr Ben, but she's about to find out just how wrong she was when she gets volunteered to chaperone a month long Europe school trip with him.

Tags/warnings: Romcom logic, age gap (reader is late 20s, Ben mid-late 30s), former student/teacher dynamic, but no romance until student is late 20s, flirting, only one bed, only one room, forced proximity, no use of y/n, dancing, drinking, we only do happy endings here

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

#pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #mr ben snl #Mr Ben x Reader #Mr Ben x You #Teacher Ben SNL #an inch away from more than just friends #aiafmtjf

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miguel-owhora · 11 months ago

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hgng... thinking about ben reilly who's such a loser and looks so pathetic and dumb next to you :((( but fuck if you're not so sweet to him, slowly riding his cock and peppering kisses along his face, wiping away the tears from his eyes because you just feel so good! and you treat him so right :((

or just you pinning his legs to his chest and slowly fucking him, each thrust deep and sensual, making him tremble and slowly break apart until he's helplessly squirting from his cock

#mr. o'whora's works !#kinda #ben reilly x male reader #ben reilly x reader #ben reilly x you #ben reilly x y/n #ben reilly #scarlet spider x male reader #scarlet spider #atsv x reader

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birtsby · 1 year ago

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close call

#I imagine he piled right out of the x-wing and straight into Finn’s arms #you know the song ease my mind by mr ben platt #bc yeah #finnpoe #stormpilot #star wars #my art

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luckyshinyhunter · 7 months ago

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💔Pretty hilarious how the Daily Wire made a anti-woke show only to have it backfire on their faces, suprisingly this scene and the fanart of them are 100 times better than the actual show! 💔

#mr birchum #richard birchum #elliot karponzi #birchum x karponzi #Fuck you daily wire and Ben sharpio!#queer #Karponchum #mr karponzi #I never saw and never will see this garbage fire!#Karchum #toxic old man yaoi #toxic yaoi #Seen the fan art and it's good!

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trulybetty · 1 year ago

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11 x dream - mr. ben (snl) x reader

prompt: dream pairing: ben x reader word count: 357 notes: fluff and betty's dated english degree pulling apart poetry to strong arm into this drabble summary: just a little stolen moment

A/N: this is new territory, writing for Ben - we can thank @wildemaven and her stunning moodboard, and @gnpwdrnwhiskey's tags that spurred this. Happy Wednesday all and Happy Valentine's if you celebrate! 💕

x. masterlist

The college hallways were congested with students, and you weaved in and out of their clusters to reach the end of the hall in the limited time you had before your next lessons started. Your bright pink loafers set the pace, on theme for the day at hand, Valentine's Day, for your planned little escape from routine.

Slipping quietly into his office, you found him buried in a mountain of papers, his focus a testament to his dedication. “Guess who?” you whispered, covering his eyes with your hands.

Startled, Ben paused, a smile soon spread across his face as he recognized your touch. “Could it be the art thief here to steal my heart again?” he joked in reference to the department you worked in, turning to pull you into a warm embrace.

“I thought I'd already stolen it for good,” you retorted playfully, presenting him with a handmade Valentine.

He laughed as he took in the crude valentine made from recycled textbook pages and a post-it note, “Quite imaginative,” his fingers ran over the looped cursive of your handwriting and his smile turned soft as he recognized the lines from one of his favourite poems.

What could there be more purely bright In Truth’s day-star?

“You are the brightness that dreams only pale in comparison to,” he kissed your hand he'd taken in his. “But I'm afraid I have nothing for you here. It's home.”

“Well,” you remarked as you turned his office chair to face you, leaning over and placing your hands on either side of him, resting them on the padded armrests. “I think there's a way for you to make up for that,” you assured him, leaning in for a soft kiss that spoke volumes.

The kiss deepened, a silent conversation of love and longing, before you both reluctantly pulled away, mindful of the time.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Ben sighed, his hands lingering at your waist.

“We will have all the time in the world soon enough,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand. “Now, let's steal a few more moments before we have to face the world again.”

#x29 valentines #mr. ben (snl)#mr. ben (snl) fanfiction #mr. ben (snl) fanfic #mr. ben (snl) x you #mr. ben (snl) x reader #mr. ben (snl) x gn!reader #mr. ben (snl) x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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tyanis · 2 years ago

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The Resident Evil 2 Survival Guide being weirdly mean to characters.

I've excluded Annette from this batch because she's already been pummeled with plenty of name calling by this guide. So let's see how the other characters fair!

Marvin. They're referring to Marvin.

How dare Ben not want to give violent birth to a horrific mutant!

...ok, this one gets a pass.

I... I don't think Ada has been injured or anything at this point? So, uhm... her brain is just dying, I guess.

Ugh, so lame of Marvin to do that.

I will not stand for this Sherry slander!

...because I am gonna go to bed!

#Sherry is the best. Fuck you Survival Guide!#resident evil 2 survival guide #resident evil #resident evil 2 #leon s kennedy #claire redfield #ada wong #sherry birkin #ben bertolucci #mr. x #william birkin #leon kennedy #Re2 #resident evil funny #resident evil memes #Resident evil Survival Guide

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chleem · 2 months ago

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Mr & Mrs Starkey

One shot: husband drew x wife yn

Summary: In which your 5 year-old son catches you kissing santa claus, oblivious to the fact that it's just drew under the costume.

Genre: fluff, smut (shower sex , read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ merry xmas! | mistletoe | halloween

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You lean against the doorframe of the shared bedroom, watching ‘Santa Claus’ place wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree.

Drew’s movements are very sloppy, due to the big red suit he’s wearing.

“Seems like Santa needs to lose some weight,” you tease, not even trying to hide how funny you find his situation.

Recently, your son, Ben learned about Santa Claus and how he brings presents to kids, and like any curious five-year-old, he's completely captivated by the idea of ‘catching’ Santa. The details of his plan are a little hazy to you—he mentioned it about a month ago, but you forgot the specifics.

You told Drew that no costume was necessary; just eat the cookies on the table and put the presents in place. But Drew insisted. And now, here he is, awkwardly fumbling around in a full Santa suit.

Placing the last gift under the tree, he turns around, his white beard and hat threatening to slip off. His blue eyes meets yours with annoyance, lips pressed in a thin line. “Well, usually my elves do this.”

You giggle, finding Drew’s dedication to the part funny and cute. “Okay, Mr Claus,” you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “take a break and have some cookies, huh?”

The annoyance in his eyes fade away, his shoulders relaxing under your touch. “You could’ve been my elf,” he murmurs, hands wrapping around your waist.

“But I’m Mrs Claus, remember? I stay home, do dishes, yadayada,” you joke, rolling your eyes dramatically. “leave the heavy work- important work to you.”

Drew parts his mouth, looking down at you with a knowing look.

“I did wrap the presents, didn’t I?” You continue to say. “Doesn’t that count for being an elf? I picked out the gifts, payed for it, set the tree up with Ben-“

Drew’s lips aggressively thrusts itself into yours; tongue fighting for access. You gasp into his mouth; taken aback by the abrupt action. That allows the slip of his tongue, tangling in with yours.

The cheap fake beard makes it hard to concentrate though; the rough hairs getting in between.

You pull away from him; eyes hooding with a soft smile on your lips. “Rude.”

“You talk too much sometimes,” he murmurs, a hand going up to cup your face.

“Isn’t that why you married me-“

He plants his lips on yours again, and you giggle against his lips.

Drew laughs too; the warmth between you two palpable, the quiet intimacy of the moment almost too perfect. Drew’s hand, still cupping your face, gently tugs you closer, his thumb brushing over your cheek in that way that always makes you melt. The kiss deepens, slow and soft, as if he’s savoring every second of it.

When you finally pull away, both of you breathless, you find yourself caught in his gaze. It’s that look—the one that makes your heart race, the one that feels like he’s seeing straight into you. You smile, your heart fluttering a little more than it should.

“Maybe I do talk too much,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirks, his fingers tracing along the line of your jaw. “You can talk as much as you want... as long as it’s with me.”

The attempt to sound sweet and lovely is ruined by your incapability of staying serious; because how could you, when Drew’s fake beard is crooked and he’s got this silly red suit with the big belly on?

“What now?” Drew murmurs, eyeing the silly grin on your face.

“I’m kissing Santa Claus,” you chuckle, reaching up to give his beard a playful tug.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes looking at you with a mischievous glint to them.

“You naughty girl,” masked with a chuckle, a seductive tone is laced in his words, matching the smirk that’s hidden beneath the white beard. Drew leans in again, catching you in another kiss.

This time, however, his hands start to roam around your body, feeling the material of your thick hoodie.

His lips travel down your neck, kissing wherever is exposed.

You let soft moans escape your mouth; the erotic feeling building in your lower stomach. With a hitched and breathless voice, you ask, “hey Drew?”

He lazily hums against your skin, hands resting just above your ass.

“Wanna help me shower?” you whisper seductively into his ear, tugging the Santa hat off his head.

Drew pulls back slightly, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. “Y’know you don’t need to ask…”

You plant a kiss on his jaw, soft but deliberate, before moving away, your hand tugging at his sleeve as you make your way toward the bathroom. But Drew doesn’t follow, a thoughtful look painted all over him.

“Stockings…” he murmurs, looking over his head at the fireplace, with the stockings that he needs to fill as ‘Santa Claus’.

You sigh, knowing exactly where this is going. After all, both of you are suckers for your son, always willing to put everything aside just to see his smile. You glance at Drew, trying to look annoyed, but the soft smile on your face betrays the affection you feel for him—and the family you’ve built together.

“Fine. I’ll shower alone,” you start, readjusting the fake beard he has on. “And I’ll leave Santa to his duties.”

“Thank you,” he sourly replies, his frown evident though the thick beard.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your lips matching the expression he has. You pat his shoulder, before turning around, making your way to the bathroom.

You make sure to add an extra sway to your hips, a lame attempt to convince Drew to ditch his costume and join you.

But nope. Not even when you start stripping, leaving the door open for him to peek.

——

The bathroom was thick with steam, the fog clouding the mirror as the water poured from the shower head.

You stand underneath the spray; getting ready to wash your body next.

When you reach for the soap, a much larger hand takes hold of yours, stopping you. You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, Drew, who presses his body close.

“Hi,” you flirtatiously start, which comes out more hitched.

Feeling the soft press of his tip against your back, the breathing gets much harder to steady.

The temperature in here is definitely rising- not because of the shower.

“You mad?” Drew’s voice comes out low, a soft smile on his lips as he turns you around to face him.

You don’t miss the quick glance down to your tits; his gaze lingering longer there than it should be.

You cock your head to the side, pretending to think it over, but the teasing glint in your eyes gives you away. His hands move to your waist, rubbing circles over your skin, his blue eyes searching yours for an answer.

Your lack of response serves as an invitation for Drew to start planting kisses along your neck, lingering longer on your sweet-spots.

“Drew…” you softly moan, the thoughts forgotten as he starts sucking the skin on your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer than he already is. His hands find themselves traveling down your body, squeezing your waist, ass, thighs, anywhere he likes.

“I like this,” he murmurs against your skin, as his hand squeezes your ass again.

“Mhm,” you lazily hum, running your hands through his wet hair, feeling his aroused dick brushing against your pussy. Shit.

His hands hook under your thighs; lifting you up effortlessly. And because of all the times you've done this, you instinctively wrap your legs tightly around his waist, pinning you against the tiled wall.

This position causes his dick to brush against your inner thigh; your tits brushing his chest.

“I like….”

Leaning against the wall, your gaze locks with his hooded blue eyes, feeling the weight of his stare on your lips. “…the way you take me in.”

You chuckle at Drew’s attempt at talk dirty, something you’ll always find amusing throughout your marriage with him. Okay, you liked it, but who were you if you didn’t play along with it? “Well, show me how much you like it.”

A dorky grin Drew fails to suppress shows on his lips, his hands’ gripping tightly on your flesh. His eyes flash down look at the closed proximity you both are in; before quickly flickering back up.

That makes the blood rush to your cheeks, a flush creeping over your skin.

“Gonna-“ he leans in and catches your lips in a messy kiss, his teeth pulling on your bottom lip. “-fuck your brains out.”

You breathlessly giggle at that too, your eyes softly focused on Drew, a smitten look in them.

Without another comment, Drew adjusts his hips, and you feel his cock slowly entering you. Glancing down, your breath hitches as he thrusts in; deeply nested inside.

“Fuck,” you moan out, tilting your head to rest against the wall.

The showering water that flows down might as well serve as lubricant- yet your walls still feel tight.

Your eyes close for a moment; and you feel Drew’s lips on your neck again- kissing hard enough to leave hickeys. He eventually trails down, lips coming in contact with your breasts.

He groans as your hands travel down his neck, before tightening around his shoulders. Your nails dig in, averting the pressure there.

“Drew…” you whine, hoping he starts moving, your eyes flustering open.

He pulls away, his mouth opened slightly with the same smitten look in his eyes. “…looking at you like this-“ he delivers a thrust to your core; the shock of it causing a loud moan to escape your lips. He chuckles at that, before finishing his words, “makes me wanna put another baby in you.”

“Shit,” you breathe out, as his hips start to roughly slam into yours; one of his hands coming up to play with your tits. The sensation of his thick cock thrusting into you is enough to blur out his words.

Your body bounces with each rough push his hips drill into your pussy- matching the moans escaping your mouth. He grunts, the sound matching the rising heat in the room, each exhale thick with the intensity building between you.

“F-feels so good,” you mumble.

“Feels good, yeah?” He chuckles lowly, repeating your words. You watch as a grin tugs itself at the corner of his lips, his blue eyes staring lustfully into yours. “Buried with my cock- you look pretty, babe.”

His words, the fast pace, his hands roaming all over sends an alarm to your core, your orgasm building and threatening to explode.

“Fuck,” you moan, your walls clenching around him as he readjusts you; allowing his dick to thrust into the familiarity of your g-spot. “I’m, c-close”

“Yeah?” Drew kisses the corner of your lips, his moves never stopping. “Right on my cock, baby.”

His lips catches yours again, kissing you clumsily and swallowing the soft sounds you produced.

The knot in your stomach goes undone- and you feel the warm liquid erupting out of you, over Drew’s cock. You clench around him again, as he continues his pace to chase out his own high.

His moves become sloppier, his lips pulling away as his dick twitches inside of you, his cream painting your walls white.

“Shit,” he chuckles, slowly pulling out to leave the tip inside you, just to push fully back in again.

You chuckle tiredly at that, as he shoves his cum deep into your cunt. “Oh, Drew…” your tone comes out almost like a whine, your throat going hoarse.

You don’t even try to hide how limp your body is, muscles giving out on holding onto Drew.

“My beautiful wife,” he almost purrs, blue eyes staring into yours in a smitten way that makes the butterflies in your stomach to fly widely loose. He sets you down on the floor slowly, helping you regain your balance.

You let his warm hands brush away the hair sticking to the side of your face, the shower head pouring warm water over both of you.

You stand in silence, staring into each other's eyes, both trying to regain your composure from the intensity of the sex.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me,” you suddenly say, your tone a mix of teasing and heat, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Drew catches onto that; his lips curving into a smirk. His hands slips back to your waist, settling there as if it belongs. “I’k what my girl likes.”

“Geez, what a man,” you tease, your breath catching as his fingers trace over your skin. “Knows what his girl wants.”

You lean in and kiss him briefly, yet pouring your emotions into it. He returns it; bringing one hand up to cup your face, angling it to allow access to his tongue.

Fuck.

After six years of marriage, he can still easily turn you on like a switch—effortlessly, every damn time.

You pull away, catching the fucked-out look in Drew’s eyes, the blue beaming down at you. “I’m sleepy,” you murmur, which was your meaning of ‘fuck me in bed, I’m tired’.

“‘Kay,” he murmurs, rubbing circles along your jaw, “let me, give you the princess treatment first, yeah?”

You snort at his words, as he reaches behind you to grab the soap. You don’t miss his low chuckle, even finding his own words funny.

You relax, and let Drew give you the luxurious ‘princess treatment’, cleaning you up and ready for bed.

——

Christmas morning

“Ben’s acting weird…”

You whisper to Drew, as you place the dishes into the sink. You spare subtle glances over at your son, sitting on the couch.

His attention is fixed on the TV, his new toy in hand—opened first, his excitement obvious.

Drew leans against the counter, sipping on the third cup of coffee he made this morning. Last night, well, both of you didn’t get much sleep. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, before shrugging. “No?”

“Um, not to you,” you keep your voice low, standing next to Drew as you both watch the living room.

During breakfast, Ben had been shy, avoiding your gaze and giving short answers to your questions. But he seemed perfectly fine when you tucked him into bed yesterday. “Did I do something last night?”

Drew snickers, and when you glance at him, he casually unzips his jacket. With a smug grin, he reveals the hickeys you’d left on his neck last night.

Shit. This man is a dad, and he can’t seem to be serious at all during times like this.

His grin escalates into laughter when you roll your eyes at him, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious. Ask him for me, will you?”

“Alright, alr- I’ll do it.”

Drew doesn’t move, taking another sip of his coffee.

You send him a glare, along with aggressively zipping his jacket back up.

“You mean now, got it,” he chuckles, putting the cup down. You shake your head at him, a smile reappearing on your lips as he walks away.

You busy yourself by scrolling through your Insta, liking posts you don’t care about. The soft whispers you hear are barely audible, drowned out by the TV and the occasional rumble of Ben’s toy.

It’s about two minutes in when you hear Drew’s throaty laugh through the house, Ben hurriedly yelling, “daddy! Quiet!”

“You got anything to support that?” Drew’s voice comes through, his attempt at keeping quiet failing miserably.

You glance up just in time to see Ben jump off Drew’s lap, rushing toward his room.

Meeting Drew’s gaze, you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. You walk over and sit down beside him, waiting for an explanation.

“You’ll see. It’s hilarious,” Drew says with a grin, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. You give him a sideways glance, not buying it for a second.

Ben runs back, his familiar blue eyes meeting yours for a split second before he quickly looks away.

“Wanna show Mommy what’s in your hand?” you chirp, your gaze landing on the toy camera you bought him a few months ago, now clutched tightly in his small hands.

He ignores you; walking straight into Drew’s arms.

“Well that’s rude,” you murmur, but both father and son remain oblivious, their attention now fully on the toy camera.

As you try to sneak a peek, Drew leans away with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying whatever he’s looking at. Ben, on the other hand, glances at it nervously, his small brow furrowing in worry.

Your curiosity grows by the minute, heightening when Ben says, “is mommy in trouble?”

His big, doe blue eyes meets yours again, and he looks like a sad puppy (much like his dad sometimes). It melts your heart; again proving you could never be mad at this kid.

His dad, on the other hand, you might choke him to death if he doesn’t explain what’s going on right now.

“Why don’t you tell mommy?” Drew teases, his hand rubbing Ben’s stomach in an assuring way.

You can see the thought process on Ben’s face, the pout deepening as he concentrates. His small brows furrow, eyes narrowing in serious contemplation.

Finally, Ben points his little finger at you, his voice loud and clear. “Mommy kissed Santa Claus!”

Your mouth drops open in shock as your mind races through the events of last night. Shit. You kissed Drew, who was dressed as Santa. Then the shower together- But how did Ben catch you? Was he out of bed? Did he—

Drew flips the small toy camera’s screen toward you, revealing a paused video. There’s no mistaking it: it's you, mid-kiss, with Drew in his Santa costume.

Oh. So this was his great plan of catching Santa Claus. A hidden camera.

Your face flushes as you look back at Drew, who’s struggling to suppress his laugh. You quickly cover your mouth, trying to hide the matching smile creeping onto your lips.

“Oh, Ben, honey,” you start, your voice sweet but a little flustered. His eyes glance up at you, eagerly awaiting your response. Relax, he’s only a five-year old kid. “Santa needed help with the presents…and mommy helped him.”

You flash a small smile, hoping he’ll understand. Ben looks up at you with a puzzled face, clearly not buying it.

Dammit, five-year olds are getting too smart these days.

“Don’t worry; mommy’s on the good girls’ list,” Drew adds on, clearly enjoying this.

You shoot him a glare - really? “Ben, mommy would never kiss Santa,” you say firmly. “I was hugging him- see?”

“But you kiss daddy like that all the time,” Ben loudly comments, fidgeting nervously.

A soft laugh leaves Drew’s mouth, absolutely no help to his situation. Great, just another reminder to yourself to maybe keep the affectionate touches to a minimum around Ben in the future.

“Okay,” you start, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Yes, Mommy and Daddy kiss sometimes, but Santa—he's just, well, he’s just here to deliver the gifts. That’s all.”

You glance at Drew, who’s still trying (and failing) to hide his grin. “Right, Drew?” you add, shooting him a look that says get it together.

“Right, right,” Drew says quickly, trying to sound serious.

“So, Ben,” you turn your gaze back to your son, holding his tiny hand. Gosh, he’s adorable. “Santa's just doing his job to make Christmas magical. Okay?”

Ben nods slowly, his tiny face scrunching as he seems to take it all in. “Okay, mommy.”

You smile fondly at him, reaching your arms out.

He lets out a laugh that’s eerily similar to Drew’s, a lighter sound as he buries into your embrace. The sound of his laughter fills the room, bringing a sense of joy to your heart.

Somehow, with all its goofiness, it’s moments like this that make everything feel so right.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, as he snuggles against you, you can’t help but think—god, he’s basically a mini version of Joseph Andrew Starkey.

“Mommy loves you,” you say, as Ben pulls away.

“I love you too, Mommy,” he mumbles, his voice soft but genuine. Like every kid, though, his attention span is short. His eyes drift over to the Christmas tree, where a few presents remain under the glittering lights. “Can I open the rest?”

You nod at him, and Ben takes off immediately, racing towards the Christmas tree. You can't help but smile as you watch him grab the first big present in front of him, tearing it apart.

Although, your smile falters as your eyes drift back to Drew. He’s lounging on the couch, a lazy smile on his lips as he watches Ben, clearly amused.

Without thinking, you slap his stomach a bit roughly, causing him to flinch in his seat.

"Hey!" Drew protests quietly, his eyes widening in surprise as he looks at you. "What was that for?”

“Really? ‘Good girls’ list’?” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow at him.

He scoots himself closer to you, his smirk deepening, “you definitely took it like a good girl last night.”

Fuck.

You freeze, his words hanging in the air, sending a shockwave through your chest.

"God, you're impossible,” you groan, slapping his hand away, the one trying to slip under your cardigan.

Drew’s throaty laugh escapes again, wanting to further tease you when Ben interrupts the short conversation.

He proudly shows off the present he got from ‘Santa’; a toy truck that he’s been begging for since forever. His small hands grip the toy truck, eyes wide with excitement.

The warmth of the moment radiates off you, and everything else fades away. Ben’s joy fills the room, and for a moment, it’s as if time stands still.

The Christmas tree lights flicker softly in the background, casting a gentle glow, and the world outside feels distant, as if nothing else matters.

What a jolly merry Christmas.

-------------------------------

word count: 3.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i want drew's kids. and i hate kids. but i want his.

other | mistletoe | hallow's eve

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #x reader #drew starkey x you #oneshot #smut #fluff #christmas #xmas

2K notes · View notes

girlatmirror · 3 months ago

Text

bend my rules | jjk

in which jeongguk jeon, the frattiest of all frat boys, has been trying to get you to go out with him since freshman year, no success. what if the events that occur in junior year change your opinion on jeongguk and you actually give him a chance?

rich! jeongguk x reader

warnings: detailed virginity loss (minors, go away!), use of yn, jk is a little dumb sometimes but he’s a sweetheart, jk is a frat boy, minor mention of SA (nothing too triggering (i hope)), i love yn, taehyung mention 🫶🏼, yn is thick asfff (#needthat), desperate jk, use of both jeongguk and jungkook (i’m an indecisive bitch sorry), he gets the girl!

another scenario with this couple ‘couple’s getaway’ !

——-

Jeongguk needs no introduction. There was not a single soul at Berkeley University that didn’t know of him. Even the freshmen got introduced to who he was on their first day. With a powerful presence, daddy’s money, and unfortunately for you, a gorgeous, gorgeous face and muscles for days, Jeongguk takes the entire world by storm. He had that something about him that makes every guy want to befriend him and makes every girl want to be with him.

He was a business administration major, now in his senior year; his goal? To take over his father’s many businesses when he graduates. He could have done that without college, but his family put a lot of importance on education.

He was simultaneously in a frat and also lived alone in a penthouse off campus. You always wondered how he was allowed to be in the frat if he wasn’t living in the fraternity itself. But he’s the king of Kappa Sigma; they couldn’t vote him out. You met Jungkook at a party thrown by a friend’s friend, who is also friends with Jungkook, during the second semester of freshman year. He approached you with charming confidence, asking for your number. You declined politely, and he has not left you alone since—following you around, asking you out, giving you gifts, inviting you to parties that you never ended up attending, asking your friends about you, pretending to share your interests to get closer to you, and so on and so forth.

The one thing that was good about freshman and sophomore year was that you had no classes with Jungkook. So the last two years, you had Jungkook-less classes, except for the ones he decided to barge into uninvited and declare his love for you. Junior year came, and with it, Jungkook decided to sign himself up for the 18th-century literature class with Professor Sullivan.

Your major was English literature.

Professor Sullivan’s class was one of your favorites—the debates, the topics, the atmosphere. Also, the fact that Professor Sullivan liked you a lot. The topic of this lesson was: the role of women in literature in the 18th century.

"Women in the 18th century played very crucial roles as empowered figures; that is a fact. Authors like Mary Wollstonecraft, for example; she challenged societal expectations and wrote incredibly critical narratives that advocated for women’s rights,” you argued with a steady voice.

From across from you, you heard a voice you dreaded. "Yn, no one can argue with you about the existence of women authors at the time, but were they really all that empowering? I mean, they pretty much all were dependent on men. For example, ‘Oroonoko,’ written by a woman, yet it represents a male hero, while the female perspective is secondary.”

“Well, Ben, if you had taken my argument or really, any historical context into consideration, you would understand that, male hero aside, a woman producing literature of any kind in that era meant that she was asserting herself in a male-dominant, or rather, in a female-submissive world, and that in itself is resistance. It embodies power. I rest my case."

Ben was about to open his mouth to argue back when the door to the lecture hall interrupted him.

"Mr. Jeon, you are half an hour late," Professor Sullivan spoke to the interrupter.

In that moment, Ben became the least of your worries, sexism and all. You felt as if your life was upside down and you couldn’t get it up. What the hell was he doing in this class? This isn’t even his thing; he will fail! He will fail miserably!

"I sincerely apologize, Professor. It won’t happen again," the deep voice apologized before stepping forward and finding a seat.

As his piercing brown eyes found yours, the usual smirk found its place on his lips, and them and their owner made their way directly towards you. He sat down with the same expression on his face. "Hey, gorgeous. Miss me over the summer?"

He put his muscular arm around your shoulder and kept his head tilted to the side to stare at you, admiring the beauty before him from head to toe. You were wearing flared jeans and a tight pink long-sleeve shirt that accentuated your generous breasts. "Cute outfit, baby. Pink is your color; I’ll make sure to buy you lingerie in that same shade."

Before you could answer, Mr. Sullivan stated: "Mr. Jeon, we were just discussing the woman’s role in 18th-century literature. I am sure Ms. Ln will fill you in on what you have missed so far, but I wish for you to pay attention to the rest of the lecture. I know Ms. Ln is much prettier than I am; nonetheless, I hope you can find it in yourself to pay more attention to me and less to her."

The whole hall broke out in laughter, amused at the professor’s wit. Jungkook just continued smirking at you, seemingly also amused at the professor, and you sat in silence for the rest of the lecture, blushing.

The lecture ended quickly after, all the students making their way out, and you would’ve done so as well, but you needed to have a little talk with the man sitting beside you first.

"What are you doing here?" you nearly hissed at Jungkook, who was still sitting, your arms crossed around your chest.

"What do you mean, baby?" he provoked. "You don’t want me here or something?"

One thing that can be said about Jungkook was that he was a very persistent man. Even after your countless rejections, he somehow managed to come back stronger, bigger, and harder to fight off.

"You know I don’t want you here! What are you even doing here in the first place, Jungkook? What do you want?" Your hands were on your full hips as you questioned him.

He looked up at you with a shimmer of amusement and a raised eyebrow, his eyes tracing every curve. "You know, Yn, you look really good from this angle."

The thought of kicking him in the head came to you, but you fought it off. "Answer my question."

"I’m not gonna answer a question you already know the answer to. You know damn well why I’m here; I want you, and I wanna see you, and I want you to finally go out with me so we can live happily ever after and put me out of my misery," he proclaimed, with the spirit of Romeo possessing him.

"You just did, though," you noted with a smirk.

"Huh?"

"You just answered a question I already know the answer to." With that, you grabbed your bag and swayed away from the man, who was too distracted watching you walk away to comprehend that you were gone.

___

On a Friday night, you had a lot you could do: read a new book, talk to your mom, whom you hadn’t seen in two months on the phone, organize a sleepover with your friends and watch a movie, finish the five essays you haven’t finished yet, go off campus and try new food, and if you don’t like it, get the food you know and like and eat it.

But in Avery’s opinion, there was nothing better to do than to go to the Kappa Sigma party. You would usually not necessarily disagree; a party is sometimes exactly what you needed, but not this Friday and not at Kappa Sigma.

"Avery, did you forget the 100 times that I have told you he is now in my 18th-century lit class? I had to see him three times this week for almost an hour each lecture. Those are three hours where I had to see him, where I had to hear him speak," you dramatically articulated. "And if you count the times that I have seen him in the halls, and the one time I saw him in the library, and the one time he came into my poetry class and sat there, watching me for 20 minutes before Professor Sinclair told him to leave, and the one time he came here to give me flowers and ask me out, that makes like a hundred thousand hours that I had to see him this week. I do not wanna go to his party!"

Your roommates all looked at you like you just fell down from an alien spaceship. Nora was the first one to react. "Your math skills are really bad, Yn."

Avery rolled her eyes. "True, but that’s besides the point; Yn, why are you whining that the hottest and richest guy at this entire university wants you and has been wanting you for the last two years? That’s a flex, girl! Now, go put on a sexy ass outfit on that sexy ass bod and let’s. go. out."

"Woooo!" you heard Sasha yell from the kitchen, making you crack a smile amid your misery.

"Alright, but next Friday, I choose what we do," you claimed, with full intention of keeping that promise.

You and all four of your roommates arrived at the Kappa Sigma house with outfits that nobody else could compete with. You were wearing a tight, black off-shoulder shirt and a red mini skirt that emphasized your already emphasized thickness. Topped off with soft glam makeup and black heels, you felt like a real woman.

"Welcome, ladies," the deep voice that could only belong to Taehyung greeted you. "Sasha."

"Hi, Tae," Sasha purred, her hands quickly finding his neck, leaning into a passionate kiss.

These two had been a couple for a few months now, after a whole year of being on and off. Despite the stereotypes of frat boys, Taehyung knew how to treat his girl right.

You entered the house with one friend less; Sasha disappeared with Taehyung into the chaos that is the current state of this house. Your other roommates quickly disappeared as well, much to your dismay.

Now, your goal was to socialize, maybe drink a little something, but not too much because of the essays that you would have to write the next day. Your eyes scanned the house for a familiar face, and it landed on one.

One that was looking you up and down with hunger. He signaled you to come over where he was sitting with a bunch of girls and one other guy. You shook your head no, so he came over.

"Yn! I’m glad you came, baby." He hugged you, and you only half-hugged him back. "You look gorgeous, of course."

"Thanks, Jeongguk," you said politely.

You and he had a complex relationship; the first time he saw you, he showed romantic interest in you, showering you with affection and gifts. He never stopped. You always rejected him, no exceptions, even at times where you wanted nothing more than to say yes. Yet he was always kind to you, and you were kind to him (most of the time). Your mutual friends always brought you together; it was as if you couldn’t escape one another—to his pleasure and to your dismay.

"Lemme get you something to drink," he went into the kitchen and came back with a soda can. "Here, I know you usually don’t drink, so I got you a cola; hope that’s fine."

"It is, thank you," you smiled softly and started drinking the cola. "So, you’re interested in literature this year."

You only started a conversation because you knew he would not leave your side the entire night anyway, and you would prefer it if you picked the topic of conversation instead of him.

"Hell yeah, I love me some Samuel L. Jackson," he stated, making you laugh.

"You mean Samuel Johnson, you idiot," you said, giggling as you pushed his strong arm playfully.

He watched you giggle, gazing as if you hung the stars. "Yeah, yeah, same thing, same thing." With his boyish smile, he said, "Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by signing up for the same class as you. It was kinda out of pocket, even for my standards. I know the last person you wanna see is me, so if you want me to drop it, I will."

Your jaw metaphorically dropped at Jungkook’s words. Those are words that came out of Jungkook’s mouth? Does that mean that he will leave me alone completely if I wish? What does this mean?

A strange emotion settled deep inside you; you started wondering if you had done something wrong or if he perhaps found another girl he wanted to ask out even more than he wanted to ask you out.

"Jungkook, it is your right to choose whatever class you want to be in; I can’t be mad at you for that. Besides, you will learn a lot from Professor Sullivan; he’s great," you reassured him with a sweet voice.

"Yeah?" He grinned, recognizing that this was your way of saying you did not want him to leave.

"Oh yeah, he is a delightful old man. The stories he has to share are amazing. Did you even know he’s married to Professor Martinez? The reason why she hasn’t taken his last name is that he was against it, telling her, ‘Maria, if you take my name, that is erasure. Erasure of your life before my appearance, and erasure of your beautiful Mexican heritage, Maria. Do not change your name to mine; I am technically your oppressor.’ He told us that story maybe about 23 times, and he made sure to roll the r real hard," you found yourself joking with Jungkook, as your mind took you back to Avery’s earlier words.

It was not the first time that your friends said the same words to you; they always expressed their envy and their confusion about the situation with Jungkook. But you were thinking much deeper than them.

Much to everybody’s surprise, you never had a boyfriend, and you were also still a virgin. The most you did was a kiss you shared with a guy at your high school graduation, which you immediately regretted. You had high standards. For yourself, for your future, for your future husband, and for everyone you allowed to enter your life. It was not about not having options; God knows you had many. It was about knowing for sure that the man you give these things to—your trust, your dignity, your virginity, your love—would be the right one, the one that deserved it. The idea that Jungkook—the man who gave you his undivided attention for two years straight and spoiled you without being asked—was perhaps the man for you didn’t sound so unbelievable anymore.

When you were a freshman and before you met him, you heard stories about him—stories of the parties he threw, the money he had, the many girls he fucked. These stories made you cautious, even though he put in real effort to get closer to you, you were hard to impress, and it was even harder for you to get out of your shell of self-protection.

Jungkook howled with laughter at the things you told him about your professor; either he found them genuinely amusing, or he was just laughing because the stories came out of your mouth.

“So, what will you do?” he asked once the laughter died down a bit.

You tilted your head innocently. “What do you mean?”

He looked at you with such tenderness, your innocent eyes captivating him.

“When we get married, will you keep your name, or will you take mine?” he posed the question so casually, yet so longingly.

You shrugged your shoulders elegantly, taking a small sip from your forgotten cola. “I will probably take yours.”

The words you said that Friday night made Jeon Jungkook the happiest man on planet Earth, and probably all the other planets in the universe.

“So, you little minx sat down and talked to Jungkook basically the entire fucking party, and you didn’t even get up once? You didn’t even complain about it!” Avery was almost lost for words; key word, almost.

“What’s the big deal? We talked, so what?” you shrugged it off.

“Everybody’s talking about it, you know. They think you might finally give the guy a chance,” Nora chimed in. “I always knew you would eventually cave; I mean, with those arms and that black card, I would’ve folded a long time ago. There’s a rumor he has a seven-inch dick, by the way.”

Just as you were about to say something, Sasha entered the living room, having just finished talking to Taehyung on the phone. “What are you girlies talking about?”

Avery answered, “Oh, just about Yn and Jungkook getting married and having six kids.”

You threw a pillow at her head in response, and Sasha smirked at the mention of her boyfriend’s buddy. “Yeah, I heard what happened. Tae told me Jungkook went crazy after talking to you, saying that this will be the year that he will claim you as his and that there’s not a single person that can take away the happiness that he’s experiencing at the moment. He literally can’t stop talking about you.”

You suppressed your smile successfully and shrugged your shoulders again. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal. I mean, you all left me lonely at that party, and he was the first familiar face I saw, sooo… I had nothing better to do.”

“God, you’re such an odd person. The guy wants you so bad, just give him a chance. You think it’s not noticeable that you are also kinda into him, but if you weren’t, you would’ve blocked that guy a long time ago, and you would’ve gone crazy on his ass with all the things he does to get your attention, but you don’t,” Tanya argued with a sly smirk on her face. “You may be mysterious to other people, but you can’t fool your best friends, who have been living with you for two years.”

Avery and Nora both agreed with Tanya’s words by nodding their heads crazily, and Sasha said a loud ‘true’ from the kitchen across the living room, where she was preparing five hot chocolates for you.

“I do go crazy; I always go crazy; I always tell him off. You all have personally experienced me going off on him for things he did and said,” you defended yourself the best you could, before taking the hot chocolate out of Sasha’s hands with a small ‘thank you, S.’

“Yeah, but it’s not really a ‘fuck off, I don’t ever wanna see you or hear you again’ type of ‘going off’; it’s more like a ‘ugh, Jungkook, I can’t believe you did this again. Please do it again’ type of thing,” Avery mocked with a high-pitched voice and fluttering eyelashes.

“Oh my God, I do not do that.”

“You kinda do, now that I think about it,” Sasha finally sat down. “I mean, I have seen you pick fights with men flirting with you before, and you are a completely different person with them versus with Jungkook.”

The others thought about what Sasha said, and it was almost like a collective epiphany. They all looked at you with the same look on their faces; almost an accusatory expression.

“You totally like him; oh my God! Yn likes Jungkook. It makes so much sense; I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Nora expressed with exciting energy.

You felt a rush of relief coming over you, almost as if you were carrying a secret that you wanted out. You had no idea if that feeling was a good sign or a bad one.

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, girls. I do not ‘totally like him’; I may be just starting—emphasis on just starting—to warm up to the idea of giving him a chance,” you revealed. “But Sasha, promise not to tell Taehyung about this, ‘cause if you do, Jungkook is gonna know by default, and I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“I won’t; I promise. This is just soooo exciting,” she spoke. “It’s just gonna be really hard to keep to myself, but I will try.”

“No, you won’t just try; you have to actually not say anything. You forget how indecisive I am; I could change my mind about this in an hour, so if you tell Taehyung, he will tell Jungkook, then Jungkook builds up hope and confronts me about what he heard, and I’ll just be like, ‘Oh, that was nothing; he’s just messing with you,’ and can you imagine how hurt his feelings would be? I really don’t need that on my conscience,” you explained thoroughly, your dramatics intact as they always were.

“Oh my God,” they all said in unison.

“What?”

“You care about his feelings!” Avery exclaimed, standing up dramatically. “You like him, like, like him. Admit it, admit it, please, please, please.”

“Shut up. I’m going to bed now. Buh-bye.” With that, you exited the living room, leaving your friends to talk about your situation for another hour before also going to bed.

“Remember when he got her a Cartier bracelet?”

___

“I will form six groups consisting of four students; each group discussing the topic I will be assigning them,” Professor Sullivan revealed.

“Ms. Ln, you will be grouped with Ms. Jones, Mr. Jeon, and Mr. Davis,” he spoke loudly. “You will be discussing Rousseau’s ‘The Confessions’ and prepare a presentation on identity and selfhood that is due next week, on Monday.”

You dreaded being in a group with Ben Davis, who had been nothing but a pain in your butt since you got to know him, but at least the assignment was the one that you wanted.

Jungkook, who sat next to you, smirked and nodded his head. “They couldn’t tear us apart if they tried, angel; this is meant to be.”

“Who are you even talking about? Who’s they?” Confused by his words, you asked.

“Just the world. You know how much these people hate real love,” he flashed you his trademark smile, making you push his arm playfully.

"Could you two stop flirting so we can start with the assignment?" the annoying voice of Ben whined, sitting across from you, with Lily Jones joining in the seat next to his.

“Alright, let’s dive in,” you started talking. “I personally think the most transfixing part of ‘The Confessions’ is how Rousseau emphasizes his intentions to be authentic. He exposes himself without shame or any sense of privacy, which for the time challenged societal norms completely.”

Lily nodded in agreement; Jungkook was busy staring at your lips as you articulated your opinion, smiling with his arm still around your shoulder. Ben, on the other hand, pulled a face you could only describe as disgusted. “Authenticity? The only authentic thing about Rousseau is that he is able to whine about his feelings like a pubescent girl. It feels almost like narcissism to me.”

"What a stupid take, Ben. With Rousseau writing this book, he laid the foundation for modern notions of individuality; the book challenges the reader to think about their own identity, their individuality," you explained your point further.

“I don’t need a stupid book like this to tell me about my identity or my individuality. It’s literally just a dude whining and rambling about his feelings and whatnot. No one wants to hear it,” Ben snapped.

Jungkook looked between you and Ben while you were arguing; seeing your agitated face when you hated someone made him realize you didn’t hate him at all. You even leaned closer into his arms.

“Well, I think we can use this as a talking point in our presentation,” Lily stated her idea. “How our perception of the book is similar to how we perceive ourselves; there are people like Yn, who confront and explore their feelings, thus creating a healthy relationship with the self, and there are people like Ben, who repress and ignore them, which makes for an angry person; which, by the way, is also an emotion.”

You and Lily giggled at her words, sending each other glances as to say, "God, I fucking hate that guy."

Jungkook decided to chime in. “That’s a good idea. We can use it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the self, to question it. If you are so opposed to Rousseau’s vulnerability, that’s a big indication of your own issues with vulnerability.”

You observed him as he spoke, astonished at his participation. You leaned in even more, to the point where your bodies touched as a way to show him you liked what he said.

“Oh, shut the hell up, man,” Ben shot back. “We all know you’re just here ‘cause of her; you don’t actually give a crap about all this.”

Jungkook simply smirked at him, already having figured out how easily provoked Ben was.

“He obviously cares more than you, ‘cause with that attitude, we are never gonna get a presentation done, much less start,” you defended Jungkook sassily, with a displeased expression sent Ben’s way, who just mumbled, “Yeah, go on, defend your boyfriend.”

“True,” Lily sighed. “By the way, where are we gonna prepare our presentation? The common rooms are always too loud, and all lecture halls are always occupied, and I don’t know about you guys, but my dorm isn’t exactly a mansion.”

You thought about Lily’s concern for a second, and the same resonated with you; your on-campus apartment wasn’t small, but you shared it with four very loud girls.

“We can do it at my place; I don’t mind,” Jungkook offered with a squeeze on your shoulder. “Then I finally have an excuse to invite my baby over.”

You looked up at him, meeting his mischievous eyes. For a moment, you shared intimate eye contact before Ben coughed to get your attention. “At your penthouse? Pff, no thanks. I’m sure a professor will let us use a room here.”

“You are not serious, Ben. Jungkook just offers us to go to his huge penthouse and you decline? I must say, I have never known such a dedicated hater; it’s almost admirable,” Lily admitted her admiration for Ben’s consistency.

“Why the fuck would we go there? It’s off campus, and it’s a penthouse; it’s so… distracting and unnecessary,” Ben debated, irritation written all over him.

“It’s a 15-minute walk and a five-minute drive, man; it’s not in Mexico,” Jungkook concurred, unable to find reason in Ben’s opposition.

“And what’s wrong with it being a penthouse? I personally would love to just hang out at a penthouse. It would make uni work a lot easier, actually,” Lily stated.

“I agree,” you shared, making Jungkook grin like an idiot at the image of you in his house. “And since this is a democracy, and we have one vote against three, we will meet at Jungkook’s penthouse next Sunday; of course, if that works for you, Jungkook."

“Works perfect!” he excitedly responded.

Ben was looking pissed as always; Lily was already thinking about all the pictures she was going to ask you to take of her in the penthouse for her Instagram, and Jungkook and you seemed to be in your own little world, gazing at each other.

“Thank you, Jungkook; that’s really nice of you,” you expressed with a smile, lifting your face to his to plant a short kiss on his cheek.

His heart raced at the unexpected movement; you had never done that before. He froze, his gaze lingering on you for a long moment while you gathered your belongings at the signal of class dismissal. One by one, the students gradually walked out, and you followed suit with Jungkook trailing behind you. He advanced in your direction, watching your hips sway.

“Yn!” he called after you, resulting in you turning around.

“Yes?”

“Go out with me tomorrow night at 7:00, just you and me,” he called out flirtatiously, gaining the attention of everybody around him, but only having his eyes on you.

You grinned mischievously at him before replying, “I don’t know about that… you’ll have to impress me first.”

To anyone else, it might sound like a rejection, but to Jungkook, it sparked a glimmer of hope that made his heart leap with resolve. Until now, it had only been ‘no’s and ‘no thank you’s. He was more confident than ever that he would capture the heart that had captured his.

___

“Yn, what did you do to Jungkook?” Sasha came back from a date night with Taehyung. “Tae told me he can’t stop smiling and is just sitting there, being cheesy as fuck.”

You were writing a sonnet for your poetry class as she barged into your room, looking stunning. “What made him think it’s about me? Let the man smile and be cheesy in peace.”

After Sasha looked at you with a look that said ‘you know damn well,’ you confessed, “He asked me out, and I—”

“You finally said yes??” she quickly interrupted with a dropped jaw.

“Nooo, I said maybe if he impresses me,” you continued. “Oh, and I also kissed him on the cheek.”

“You. Did. Not!” Sasha put a hand over her mouth, a loud gasp leaving it. “No wonder he is a smiling idiot; you broke him!”

“No, I didn’t ‘break’ him; I’m simply doing what I already said I am doing; I’m warming him up, giving him hope,” you explained, putting your pen down. “Because there is a very high chance that I will agree to go out with him soon. I just need that something.”

“That something?” Sasha repeated, confused.

“Yeah, that something; that one moment that makes me go yes, this is the man I want,” you further explained. “I have a good reason, two actually; I’m picky, indecisive, and also a virgin, so if I let him in and then, for some reason, regret it, I will be destroyed. And if I suddenly change my mind after giving him a chance, it will hurt Jungkook really badly, and I don’t want that.”

Sasha looked perplexed and deep in thought at your words, as if puzzling them together and making sense of them. “Oh wow, I never thought of it like that, but now, I totally get you.”

“Well, finally!” you smiled at her and giggled. “Anyway, what are you and Tae wearing to the Halloween party? Cause I was thinking…”

___

You and your girls took Halloween very seriously. You loved the dressing up, the makeup, and you always utilized the only day in the year where it was socially acceptable to be someone else entirely.

Of course, there were always at least six simultaneous Halloween parties going on on campus, and you had to choose between them, which was never a hard decision to make since Kappa Sigma always won. If they’re throwing a party, no other party stood a chance.

You decided to dress up as something cute yet sexy but very recognizable. Last year you came as Jane Eyre, and not a single person guessed your costume right. You decided to go with Chel from ‘The Road to El Dorado’; a white maxi skirt with two slits on the sides, a pink tube top, and statement jewelry with your hair down. It was low effort, yet very effective.

Nora went with Cher from Clueless, Avery of course was Shego, Tanya went creative and dressed as 2010 Justin Bieber, and Sasha and Taehyung were Morticia and Gomez Addams for the night, catching many envious stares.

After all the assignments, the essays, and the overall stress of uni the past few weeks, you hadn’t felt that alive and sexy in a while. Your maxi skirt was clinging to your full lower body seductively, and your tube top took on the very shape of your chest. You looked damn good, and you were ready to feel good too. Promising you wouldn’t drink too much, you took it slow.

Moving your hips seductively to the beat of a The Weeknd song while closing your eyes and tilting your head back, with Avery and Nora dancing together in front of you. Tanya was nowhere to be found, and Taehyung and Sasha were having their own dance party, grinding and kissing like there was no tomorrow. The dancing continued, and with it, the staring. You wished you could just dance at a party and have everybody mind their own business.

After a couple more rounds of dancing and drinking, you felt a firm hand gripping your hips. Turning around immediately, you pushed the guy away and looked at him, terrified. “What the fuck?? Get your filthy hands off of me!!”

Your friends stopped their dancing for a moment to see what was going on. They found Ben, dressed as Patrick Bateman, groping your hips like you were his property. “Just having fun, bird; don’t get all upset.”

Avery and Nora yelled at him, but it wasn’t effective. The scene caused such a huge stir that even Sasha and Taehyung got out of their trance, watching your fight with Ben.

“Yo, dude, get the fuck outta here, or I’ll call the cops on you,” Taehyung stepped in, pushing Ben completely out of the way. “What the fuck made you think you could do this, huh?”

As if he knew just when to step in, Jungkook in a cop uniform just arrived at the scene, asking what was happening.

A very drunk Ben slurred his words in an almost incoherent tone, facing Taehyung. “Look, man, she’s dressed like a slut. So I’m gonna treat her like a slut.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened at Ben’s words, trying to make sense of the situation. He followed Ben’s eyes that were directly watching you, all of your friends and Taehyung just standing shocked, and the only thing between you and Ben was a protective Taehyung. Ben was talking about you.

Without putting any thought into his actions, Jungkook stepped in and punched the guy in his face, causing him to stumble down to the ground, where Jungkook kicked him in the face before crouching down and spitting on him. “What the fuck did you just say??! Did you touch her, huh? Did you fucking touch her? I swear, I’ll kill you; I’ll fucking kill you, man; this is your last day alive, ‘cause I’ll kill you.”

You had no idea what to do in this situation, so you just watched with a shrinking posture, similar to your friends who were all in shock at the scene of Ben lying on the ground, his blood pouring out while Jungkook continued to throw punches. At that point, the entire party stopped and just observed the scene.

"Jungkook, that’s enough. I’d love for you to kill him, but I don’t wanna see you in jail, bro," Taehyung calmly spoke, in order to ease the tension. Jungkook listened to him, standing up; a look that furious had never been on his face.

He turned to you, taking your hands in his, his face softening at the sight of you. “Everything okay, baby?”

You nodded weakly, semi-visible tears rolling down your cheeks. Your instincts told you to hug him, so you did. He immediately pulled you closer to him, his hand on your back and your chest against his as he soothingly rocked you back and forth. Everybody was watching you, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to relax,” he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd and into one of the bedrooms. “Want me to carry you?”

For the first time in those 30 minutes, you cracked a tiny smile, knowing that he was so very serious about carrying you in front of an entire party. “No, that’s fine; I can walk.”

Ignoring the intense eyes of the crowd, you two made your way upstairs.

Your eyes were still slightly watery with tears, and you were still holding onto Jungkook’s hand as you both sat down on the bed. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

He offered you an irresistible smile and brought you in tighter against his solid chest, allowing you to hear his every heartbeat clearly. “That’s my job, baby; no need to thank me.”

“You really didn’t have to do that; I don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me, Kookie,” you spoke against his chest, with a soft, alluring voice, using his nickname to make him happy. “Ben really isn’t worth your anger at all.”

Jungkook took in your entire figure from above you with a gleam in his eyes. “Yn, I will do anything to protect you. I won’t ever allow anyone to harm you.”

You gently pulled away from his chest to meet his loving gaze. You never understood the books where the main character described a romantic encounter by saying ‘it felt like we were the only two people in the world’ until that moment. He leaned in closer, maintaining eye contact. You placed a delicate hand on his muscular arm—too gentle to stop him from getting closer, yet firm enough to prevent yourself from melting into him.

You were face to face with him now—breathing the same air. “You really mean that?”

“I couldn’t be more sincere,” he whispered, the warmth of his words meeting your full lips, his hands firmly placed on your soft, naked waist. “You know, we’ve never been this close before.”

“Yeah,” is all you managed to say, avoiding eye contact.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulled away, standing up, offering you his hand. “As much as I want to kiss you, I don’t think we should do that right now. You obviously drank tonight, and I want you to want to kiss me, and I want you to remember kissing me.”

You nodded and took his hand, not knowing what to say or do. As you stepped outside again, Jungkook’s broad shoulders became your view, him leading you downstairs again to take you home.

“Jungkook?” you said his name quietly, almost in a whisper.

He turned around, watching your shorter and smaller frame from above, looking absolutely tempting. “Yeah?”

“I’ll go out with you.”

___

The week after the Halloween party was exhausting; there were exams, essays, and seminars.

Besides the exams and usual uni duties, Jungkook was very enthusiastic about your first date. Being secretive about what he’d planned, getting your friends to ask you what you expected from a first date in an unsuspecting way, not wanting to annoy you so that you wouldn’t change your mind. It was very endearing.

You were also looking forward to the date, but you were much more subtle about it. Jungkook didn’t care about secrecy as much, telling every single person he knew that you agreed to go on a date with him; the news spread fast, and every student knew about your date.

Taehyung reported to Sasha that he jumped up and down, screaming and shouting out of the windows, “I DID IT! I FINALLY DID IT!” And later, when the pizza they ordered arrived, he tipped the delivery guy 300 bucks and told him, "The love of my life finally agreed to go out with me; I wish for you the same. I wish for every longing soul to experience the same happiness I am in right now, but I don’t think that’s possible because only she is capable of making a human feel this way. Goodbye and good luck, brother."

As for your shared class, he was insatiable. It was about the only time that week where you were able to see each other, and he had made good use of those three hours. In just three lectures, he got you a Swiss chocolate cake with a picture of himself printed on it because Avery informed him chocolate cake was your favorite. He got you a beige rose Lady Dior purse because it "goes well with your complexion," and a pink diamond ring, which he said was "nothing compared to the future engagement ring, of course." Before he signed up for your class, he gave you a gift once every two weeks, so this was a lot even for Jungkook. You told him it was all unnecessary, and he said, "No, this is very necessary; gotta spoil my future wife."

You were drowning in your assignments, your MacBook completely overheating when your name was called.

"Yn! There’s a package for you on the table," Tanya, one of your roommates informed.

You got out of your room confused; you couldn’t remember ordering anything in the last few weeks, and Jungkook usually liked to give you his gifts in person. “Are you sure it’s for me?”

Tanya playfully scoffed at you, reading what’s on the package again. “Is there another Yn here that I have yet to be introduced to?”

You scoffed back, taking the package into your room. Your impatient self couldn’t resist tearing it open to see what’s inside. A note, a small box, and a big white box with the words ‘Givenchy’ on it. Your breath hitched.

The note read: ‘Wear this to our date, gorgeous. Yours forever, JK.’

Almost scared to do so, you opened the white box, revealing a gorgeous, long blue silk dress. Then you opened the smaller box, which held a beautiful 24k gold necklace and matching earrings inside it. That idiot. You smiled to yourself, but quickly realized you shouldn’t.

You were a princess, and you deserved to be treated like one; he was just a rich enough man to comply.

You freed yourself from the clothes you were wearing. Carefully, you took the dress out of the box and put it on.

It fit like a glove, harmonizing with your every curve. The neckline was low, exposing the perfect amount of cleavage.

How did he know my size?

You put the dress back into the box neatly and pulled out your phone.