#Angels have never seen age before
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Scarf
It was Adam for certain, Lucifer knew it in his gut, but his eyes struggled to comprehend it. In Eden, even at their most adversary, Adam had been young and handsome. As graced by the sun as he was by the angels, Adam had sparkled with a childish enthusiasm that even a dreamer could envy. This man was none of those things.
When the angels had discussed a âlimitedâ lifespan, it had only been theoretical to Luciferâs comprehension. The garden had been created to prolong human lives as long as necessary until the rest of the world was procured for them as father intended. When Lucifer had slipped the apple to Eve, this version before him had never occurred to him as a consequence.
A withered giant coveted in animal belts, hair strangled in familiar amber browns and foreign grays. Skin marred from the varying conditions and seemed more of withered leather creased among scars. The most Lucifer could recognize were the eyes, but that recognition was not reflected back.
The man gaze leveled with his gaze and dispute the isolation in the vastness of the snowy landscape, he didnât look surprised. Luciferâs breath caught in their intensity and he couldnât look away if he tried. Age was alien to angels as change was slow and stagnant. But it felt only like a blink before the lush meadows he associated with the first man had turned into a mountain. A life was written into every line of imperfection, a story of experiences that drew even the devil to a still.
A life he has missed and would never experience.
âHello, strangerâ.
Lucifer flinched dispute himself. The voice was light in nature but deep and harsh like a tired lion. Those eyes studied him, unbothered by the silence. Sunflower yellows traced along his Lucifer leaving the angel feeling exposed and naked. Still, he could not look away.
Worn cheeks, bitten by the frost, uplifted slightly to an emerging smile. âYou gotta tell me; how does one go about making one of those?â he asked and reached out to lightly tug at the end of Luciferâs scarf. The devil had not even noticed heâd been so close.
A warmth spread rapidly across Luciferâs face and down his neck before Lucifer could even comprehend the gold flecks in the humanâs pupils. His heart threatening to collapse. Oh shit.
Partly Inspired by @lilacwriter07âs old man Adam concept. and partly inspired by old man Odysseus. The most handsome of fate victims.
I always theorized that human Adam was way different than the man we know eons later in Heaven. Heâs had a life and it was a harsh and cruel one in the wastes. Every second decision could mean the end of them to the point where all the Eden stuff seems a dream. And people like Lucifer and Lilith seem entirely non-important to the grand scheme of things. That Adam would look to Lucifer and feel only a wisp of nostalgia. But learning how to make a scarf would be handy.
Lucifer is simply enchanted by life worn Adam Prime! -sorry. Itâs so bad. Please ignore it. But I wanted to try before I went to work.
#adamsapple advent#adamsapple#guitarduck#adam x lucifer#lucifer x adam#traditional art#tiny story#Angels have never seen age before#Older Adam#hazbin hotel#my art#drawing#hazbin hotel adam#After the fall and banishment#Adam is around 50.#Sorry itâs bad#adamsappleadvent
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I know itâs probably just my age and Iâm Too Young To Possibly Get It and You Had To Be There but Iâve always kinda rolled my eyes whenever people talk about how joss whedon was some titan of nerd media and everyone loved his work
avengers came out when I was 13 and I thought that was. all right. at the time, everyone on the internet was nostalgic for firefly, so I watched that and found it extremely underwhelming, and wasnât interested in seeking out more of that writing. but it is inescapable huh
#was gonna post this on my main but i have way more followers there and also what inspired this was#reading gaiderâs post about alistair lol#yes we can in fact tell he was inspired by buffy#the part where heâs like âyea heâs persona non grata NOW but he used to be the shitâ citation needed lmao#and itâs always made me kinda roll my eyes#heâs fine. i like him as a character. but everywhere i go thereâs been whedon worship#and now that heâs fallen out of grace people feel like they need to do penance for it#when iâve. never understood it in the first place lol#obviously iâm one person and my opinions arenât universal either but#i feel like everyone who talks about it is like âyeah heâs shitty BUT itâs goodâ#i guess you had to be there#but when i say i donât like him now it sounds like im lying or just joining the people who are canceling him#hipster moment. i didnât like him before it was cool#itâs just the writing style. iâve talked about it a little before on my main#itâs especially insidious still in SFF novels bc once again. theyâve all seen buffy and firefly and#i remember my older sister liked angel but iâm p sure she had a crush on him#when will i finally be at the age where the things i grew up liking are the influence behind the Hot New Thing#i mean i know the issue is that the things i liked as a kid werenât popular then either lmao#like iâm sorry but one man from 15 years ago cannot be the sole pillar of an entire genre#people need to diversify their influences and/or we need to let other people write stuff#honestly whedonâs style feels like he was going for american terry pratchett but itâs like. a little mean spirited about it#personal.txt
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YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader
Request: @avis-writeshq says -
HELLO HELLO jumping on your 2k celebration reqs because 2K OMG SO DESERVED âŒïžđ«¶
may i perhaps request a spencer reid x fem!reader fic please đ„č maybe him post prison w new reader and she follows him around everywhere because sheâs just instantly enamoured to him đ€
thank you so so much lovely and congrats again !!!
Description: thirteen years in the fbi and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.
word length: 2.6k (this really ran away from me)
warnings: post-prison Reid, slightest age gap, Spencer dealing with coming home from prison, gun shooting?
authors note: hozierâs new song 'Too Sweet' + post-prison reid is a need, not a want.
He smelled her french vanilla perfume before he even knew she was there. But then again, it was all he could smell the minute she waltzed into the office with a tray of coffee, like someone had stuck a sweet dessert in the oven and baked it on full.Â
âGood morning!â She chirped, winding an arm over his shoulder and setting down a take out cup and a little chocolate donut on his desk, âPen said you like chocolate, and I mean who doesnât like chocolate, right?âÂ
She was potent when she was so close to him, and in one single breath he caught a whiff of her shampoo, before she had flitted over to her side of the desk that sat opposite his, where Morgan once sat. Noticing his hesitance, mistaking it for discontent she paused, almost spilling her own beverage over the potted plant she kept by her keyboard, scrambling to set it on the surface.
âY-you do like chocolate right? I mean they had strawberry too, I can switch yours with JJâs, Iâm sure she wouldnât mind-â She splurged, and her face was much too worried considering it was a matter of a donut, particularly considering he was already eying up the way the thick chocolate was melting in the pastry bag.
âChocolate is great, I loveâŠâ He held up the bag to read the label with squinting hazel hues, âCocoa Caramel delight,â
He had never heard of it.
He had never even seen this brand, but he wanted to quell her nerves even in the slightest. The BAU didnât have the funds for a new keyboard, let alone time to send her to the ER if she ended up spilling her coffee over her hand.Â
She seemed convinced, and he offered her a small smile, not exactly his most enthusiastic, but then again he hadnât been much of a morning person since heâd come out of prison. He liked quiet, he liked a moment to himself before Penelope called them into the round table for briefing. But she was sweet, too sweet perhaps for the dark nature of their job.Â
He could already see it chewing up her perky disposition and spitting her right back out within a year. It happened to the best of them.
But she smiled back at him, a million watt grin that made him think maybe he was being a little cruel. She was still brand new, still trying to make friends and he remembered how hard he tried when it had been his first few weeks on the team. He turned his gaze away from her in shame, reading the way sheâd written his name on the cup in a pink sharpie, framing it with two doodle hearts.Â
She all but skipped away, sensing he didnât feel like talking much anymore, and he heard Emily exclaiming she was âA caffeine angel sent from the heavens,â as she handed her the drink. He watched her braided hair disappear down the hall as she bounced over to Penelopeâs lair.Â
He picked at the cocoa caramel delight with a kind of self loathing he was familiar with, the french vanilla still a saccharine sugar in his nose.Â
-
She caught him again; though this time he felt her bristle past his arm, watching the bullets pierce the target paper with an accuracy that only came from fourteen years of practice.Â
âDo you reckon you could teach me how to do that?â Her cadence was light and airy, and he had to stop himself from jumping, from slamming the butt of the gun into her nose on reaction, because he knew she meant well, even though she had no idea how damaged he was.
He was still out of sorts from having to look over his shoulder at every second of the day, and he was surprised he was holding it together so far. He supposed shooting the shit out of a target helped.
Because it was just her, looking at him with soft eyes and a smile that could start wars, and he knew she had no idea the effect she had on the walls heâd tried so hard to build in prison.Â
She must have mistook his look for annoyance, because she was quick to fumble with her own loaded gun, taking a step back in retreat, worried that she crossed some line she didnât know heâd drawn.
âOr I could get Luke to show me, I didnât mean to bother you, I just am really a shit shot and I know thatâs pretty useless in the field-â It wasnât until he flicked the safety on and took a step to follow her did she look at him again hopefully.Â
âNo, Iâd be more than happy to show you,â He cleared his throat, setting his pistol in its holster and stepping behind her as she lined herself up for the fake body meant to resemble an unsub, âWe all have to start somewhere. Show me your form,âÂ
She raised her arms up in front of her, aiming for a few seconds for the spot in the centre of the chest cavity, her finger reaching up for the trigger.Â
She shot once, her face hardened for the first time heâd ever seen, and they both watched the paper rip about half a foot down the unsubâs leg.Â
âSee, in my head itâs hitting dead centre and then by the time I shoot itâs wiggling all over the place,â She explained, scratching her neck and frowning at the paper body, âI donât suppose unsubs are willing to stand still and wait while the rookie figures out her shot,â
âYour hips are perfect, wide stance means you get more stability against the ricochet,â She tried not to simper at his words, or the way he sidled up behind her, his hands coming up to her shoulders as if heâd known her for years, as if JJ hadnât told her how much he hated other peopleâs germs, âItâs in your shoulders youâre losing balance, try relaxing a little,â
But she couldnât not when he was breathing down her neck, rubbing those long fingers over her shoulder blades trying to get her to straighten out her posture, hoping he couldnât feel the way her chest rattled with nerves.Â
âRelax,â He reminded, trying not to chuckle when he felt her shake her arms out as a means of hiding the way her skin had warmed under his rough touch, âYou know, my unit chief taught me how to shoot. I wasnât at all good at it when I first started,â
âOh really?â She asked, her breaths feather light as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the gun, âH-he must have been a good teacher,â
âHe was the best,â Spencer agreed, brushing off the fact she was all but putty beneath his hands, âThree steps for the perfect shot; front sight, trigger press, follow through. Always keep your head forward, always keep your dominant finger ready, and wait until youâve shot to drop your stance,âÂ
She looked up at him in admiration, and her soft smile was back as his own musk of laundry detergent and chamomile soap encompassed her as his arms did.Â
He brought one of those big hands to the back of her head, moving her with gentle ease to look back at the target, a slight chuckle in his voice as he spoke: âFocus, whatâs step number one?â
âFront sight,â She echoed him, fixing her shoulders with determination as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Taking a deep breath, she murmured to herself under her breath the next step as her forefinger rested over the trigger. She pulled it after a moment of courage, and froze in spot as she watched it hit where the stomach would sit.Â
Not a perfect shot, but certainly a lot better than she had been doing.Â
Her eyes widened behind the thick protective glasses, and her hands became fists above her head as she squealed in delight.Â
âDid you see that- did you see!â She yelled over the sound proof ear muffs they both wore, and he was quick to grab the gun out of her swinging arms, clicking the safety on for her before she could end up blowing a hole in the ceiling.Â
âVery good, give it a few months youâll be a natural,â He complimented with a smile as she clapped her hands in glee, buzzing on the spot as if sheâd chugged five energy drinks or doubled up on her coffee for the day.Â
He tried ignoring the way his chest warmed seeing her so happy because of him, especially when she looked at him like that.Â
--
âYou said you needed those files, Dr Reid,â Sheâd appeared again, like she always did, and he had barely enough time to glance up from the paper he was already inspecting before he was hit by the perfume again, and he looked up to see two bright eyes watching him hopefully. Her arms were piled high with easily a box full of folders he had asked Anderson to find for him, and he saw the way she strained slightly to keep them held tight.Â
âJesus! Let me help you,â She prayed he couldnât feel the way her heart thumping against the manilla folders as he leaned over to take them out of her grasp, the way her eyes fell to his light smattering of facial hair as his lips were little more than a few inches from hers. Even when his hands brushed hers, and he seemed to realise she was staring, watching her scramble to look somewhere else other than his amused eyes, embarrassed heâd caught her, âThankyou. And just call me Spencer,âÂ
âThankyou,â She echoed, shaking her head with a girlish smile on her face, her cheeks warm with humiliation, âI mean youâre welcome, any time,âÂ
For the sake of her self preservation he waited until she turned around to smile to himself, pretending he didnât see the way she muttered under her breath, or that she almost walked straight into the filing cabinet on her hasty exit out of the office.Â
âSeems like you have a shadow,â Emilyâs voice met him as he heard her heeled footsteps approach, and they both watched their newest team mate almost bump right into JJ as she kept her head down, stroking her hair nervously, âShe was super excited to meet you when you were away, said she went to one of your guest lectures you did with Hotch a couple years ago,â
His brows shot into his hairline, something warm flourishing in his chest when he saw her peek back to see the two of them watching her, and she immediately darted for her seat for an excuse to turn her back to them.Â
Spencer smiled again, running a hand through his curled locks as if he was trying to think of something else other than the joy that had over come his features.Â
She certainly was charming, in an incredibly girlish way, and he wasnât the only one who thought it. He hadnât heard Penelope giggling so much since Morgan had left, nor did he miss the way Rossi and Emily watched her darting around in the field, chasing after her as if she needed one of those leashes people had for toddlers.
Or the way Luke had had to talk her out of bringing a stray cat back to the BAU just two days ago because âit looked sad and lonelyâ.Â
She was only eight years his junior, and yet he felt like the job had made him too hard, too mature, too tough against a softness like hers.
Girls had never really been interested in him, at least not for him as Spencer Reid, not as SSA Dr Reid. He had the occasional fling, even Maeve in the grand scheme of things had been a budding romance at best, and just the thought of Cat Adams viper-like eyes had him shuddering.Â
He barely wanted anything to do with women at the moment, at least that was what heâd told himself every night heâd been fighting for his damn life in prison.Â
But it was almost too easy to feel this way about her, like he couldnât drink in her sweet smell or even sweeter voice fast enough, or bathe in her gaze that melted like rich chocolate when he took a glance her way.Â
He didnât bring it up with her until they were the last few people filing out of the office.Â
âI can drive you,â She chirped, almost dropping the contents of her bag everywhere as she rooted for her car keys, and before he could protest, because it was like all he could see now was how eager to be around him she was and he wasnât too sure he could keep himself from opening pandoraâs box, she jingled her keys, that of course had crochet bluebells hanging from them and all but danced past him into the elevator. âCome on, you can have shotgun,âÂ
âIâll be the only passenger, doesnât that mean I automatically have shotgun?â He asked, following behind her as she stood in the elevator with a beaming smile, her finger clicking the ground floor button a bunch of times even though it made no difference how fast the doors closed.Â
âWell, yeah, but itâs going to be the best shotgun youâve ever had. Iâm talking you can be Miss Daisy and Iâll be your Morgan Freeman,â And as if her spirit was infectious, he shook his head with a hidden chuckle.
There was a minute of silence between the two as she played with a loose thread on her cardigan, and it was then he took the chance to ask her the question that had been burning on his lips all day.Â
âYou didnât by any chance go to University of Pennsylvania, did you?â Spencer asked, noting the way her eyes fell to the floor and how she licked her lips nervously.
âYeah,â She replied cautiously, fingers clenched tightly around her keyring, âI know itâs not Caltech, but it was pretty good-â
âDidn't you see my lecture with Hotch?â He asked, and his smile widened tenfold when her hands slapped over her cheeks that burned with horror, moving quickly up to cover her eyes, âLittle birdy told me you were quite excited to meet me-â
âOh, Emily,â She groaned, burying her face in her palms, avoiding his teasing expression like the plague, âI knew, I knew she was going to tell you, Iâm surprised she didnât tell JJ first, unless she did and our whole team know I was some crazy girl who liked the FBI agents so much she switched her major,âÂ
âYou switched your major for me?â He asked incredulously and he only laughed harder, one of the first times since heâd come home, when she groaned louder, turning away from him entirely.Â
âShut up, I did not swap my major for you,â She bit back, and she finally met his gaze, her expression an embarrassed wince, âI just⊠liked the material. You were very compelling,â
âDid you have a poster of us?â Spencer wanted to stop teasing, knew he was being a little cruel, but how could he resist when she shrieked in between laughter, shoving his shoulder with mortification.
âNo,â
âDid you kiss Hotchâs picture before bed like an obsessive fangirl?âÂ
She gestured to him vulgarly as they left the elevator and headed for the car park, and it made a huge difference to the usual adoration she watched him with, but maybe, he thought, it made him like her even more.Â
âNo more shotgun for you, youâre going in the trunk like an old rug,â She snapped, though he could tell she was still horrified by the way she avoided his delighted hazelnut gaze.Â
âLike an old rug?â He feigned hurt, but when they sat in her car, she finally looked over at him with something vulnerable and yet affectionate, like heâd seen her for all she was worth. He reached over the console to squeeze her hand gently, not missing the way her palm clammed beneath his and she struggled for words, so he continued for her, âThatâs really no way to talk to your idol, you know,âÂ
Spencer swore his chest felt lighter than it had in months watching her laugh like that.
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#matthew grey gubler x reader
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Controversially Young GirlfriendÂ
Hugh Jackman x popstar!readerÂ
series masterlist & main masterlist
summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men.Â
warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns.Â
warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33
authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. Iâd love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3
Part one: breakup and new beginningsÂ
Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest âbigâ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasnât always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more.Â
Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled âto the pointâ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million.Â
By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything.Â
Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, youâve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since youâve been in the spotlight, youâve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasnât something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasnât afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You werenât complaining though, you enjoyed it.Â
Your last âscandalousâ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man youâd ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldnât want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends.Â
-
âI should have picked a different song.â You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBCâs Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover âTHE GREATESTâ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you werenât feeling as vocally confident now that you were here.Â
âBabe, youâre gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.â Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. Sheâs fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isnât terrible, sheâs right. Youâd been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldnât say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasnât been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two.Â
âYouâre right.âÂ
âAs always. Here, start warming up the money maker.â She laughs while handing you the humidifier.Â
âI really hope he doesnât watch it. Iâd literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassmentâŠâÂ
Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasnât something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen.Â
âI think Iâm taking a break from men.â You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy.Â
âWhatever you say girl.â You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes.Â
âUgh⊠You donât believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.âÂ
âIâm not trying to doubt you babe. Itâs justâŠYou tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.â She's typing away on her laptop as if she didnât just completely disrespect you.Â
âI donât have daddy issues.â You say flatly. âI happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.â You say matter of factly.Â
âHm..Well I give it a week.âÂ
-
After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didnât understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences.Â
The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You werenât wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldnât make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off.Â
âAll ready?â A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up.Â
You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had.Â
A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. Youâre reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you.Â
âAhhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!â Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures.Â
âGod youâre talented!â You hear the voice before you see the face.Â
âOh um, thank you so much.â You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly.Â
âHOLY SHIT!â You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman.Â
âOh my god iâm so sorry, thatâs literally so embarrassing. I just couldnât see who you were at first.âÂ
âItâs okay sweetheart.â They both wear big smiles on their faces.Â
âIâm y/n, itâs so nice to meet yâall, iâm a big fan!â You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling.Â
âWeâre big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.â Ryan lets out.Â
âNo shit! Thatâs so cool. I really appreciate it.â Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone.Â
âHows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.â Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up.Â
âOh I uh- I wouldnât know. We arenât together anymore.â Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward.Â
âShit. Iâm so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought youâd be together longerâŠâ He trails off.Â
âYea me too.. he couldnât handle the heat I guess.â You shrug.Â
âWell, his loss yea?â He smiles trying to cheer you up.Â
âYea..â You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and heâs beyond handsome. Heâs aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt.Â
The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hughâs hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out.Â
-
Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy.Â
Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldnât even go a week. ;)Â
The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that ââthehughjackmanâ started following you!â. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back.Â
While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest.Â
Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)
Thank you for reading <3
part two
#hugh jackman#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman x you#hugh jackman x y/n#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman fanfic#hugh jackman fluff#hugh jackman fic#hugh jackman x female reader#hugh jackman fanfiction#hugh jackman oneshot#hugh jackman x popstar!reader#popstar!reader#f!reader#afab reader
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đđđ§đđšđŠđ„đČ đ
đđ„đ„đąđ§đ đđŹđ„đđđ© đđ§ đđĄđ đđšđđđ„ đđšđźđ„đ đđ§đđ„đźđđ
âł warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical
âł song: si j'Ă©tais blancheâjosĂ©phine baker
âł notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated
masterlist | commissions | carrd
âą It wasnât your fault youâve always had a messed up sleep schedule
âą Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldnât give you a break even in death
âą You werenât exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night
âą Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, theyâd compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end youâd carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way
âą The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until youâd started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind
âą Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasnât drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly
âą In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out
âą Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile
âą You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear
âą âIâm sorryââ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. ââbut you should have seen your face.â He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit
âą âHey! Watch it!â
âą He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn starâs styled hair
âą Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways
âą Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass
âą âToo much to drink?â She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if youâd wake if she pressed to hard
âą Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now
âą âNot exactly.â He huffed
âą Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting
âą Alastor had called everyoneâ more like demanded them âinto the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact
âą With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so
âą You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids
âą By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles
âą But you? Wellâ
âą âSo!â Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. âWhat do you all thiâ are they asleep.â
âą Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake
âą You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously
âą âUh, my bad?â
âą Alastorâs smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half
âą âGlad to know Iâm keeping you entertained.â He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise
âą You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastorâs least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles
âą âMaybe weâve had enough peer feedback for todayââ Vaggie cut in cautiously
âą âI concur.â Came your quick agreement
âą You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x y/n#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor x y/n#angel dust#angel dust x reader#angel dust x you#angel dust x y/n#husk#husk x reader#husk x you#husk x y/n#charlie#vaggie#x reader#headcanons
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good & bad
đ staring. Kim Mingyu & Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader
đź preview. âMy new therapist says itâs healthy behavior to let Wonwoo do what he wants to do ever so often,â you explain, watching Wonwoo beat Seungcheol at the arm wrestling and proceed to down two shots in celebration. âIâm not sure how she can think him coming to frats, getting drunk, and getting into pissing contests is healthy, but hey, itâs not my job to counsel power holders.â
tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, horny!gyu, dom!wonwoo, Wonwoo tells virgin!Gyu what to do, hand job, Wonwoo using his power to help y/n ride Mingyu, manhandling, size kink, groping, nipple pinching, praise, degradation, voyeurism, pussy stretching, cream pie, multiple reader orgasms, etc⊠I pet names: (hers) gorgeous & baby.
đč rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.8k
đ aus. superpower au, uni au, etcâŠ
âïžÂ mlist + an. I was thirsting for another Meanie fic and I came up with this super power, I'd never seen it before and I thought it would be fun :)
Prologue:
âWe thought she just had an active imagination,â your mother explained, reaching over to grab your hand and give it a soft squeeze. âMost kids show signs of powers when theyâre six or seven, sheâs ten now, so we just thought maybe she wouldnât have any. Her father is a none-supe, so we came to terms with it years ago.â
The doctor was looking over your family file, and she nodded softly, looking up at your mother, then to you. âWhen did you first see signs that these imaginary friends of hers werenât just in her own head?â
âThere were little things,â your mother admitted. âI was cooking one night and she was drawing. When I looked again, the paper next to her had this image on it- a completely different art style to what she had been doing. When I asked her who drew it, she told me that Mingyu had.â
âMingyu is one of her imaginary friends, correct?â
âYes, she has Mingyu, who at first was described as the âgoodâ one, and Wonwoo, the âbad.ââ
âSomething akin to an angel and devil on your shoulder,â the doctor nodded.Â
âExactly.â
âAfter the art incident?â
âShe was outside one day, tossing a ball around, and the ball bounced back to her, like some invisible person had thrown it back. At first, we thought maybe she had some sort of telekinesis, but she told me she was playing catch with Wonwoo.â
âSo this was the first instance you saw proof that one of her imaginary friends could actually manipulate real-life objects, correct?â
âYes.â
The doctor leaned back in her chair. âAre there any other events that have happened that push you to believe these imaginary friends of hers are real and itâs not a telekinesis power?â
âWell, y/n fell off her bike last week. Her knee was all scraped up. I was about to run and get bandages when this soft glow appeared over her knee. The scrape disappeared and she told me that Mingyu had healed her.â
âVery interesting.â The doctor had looked at you then, rolling forward on her chair. âCan I see your knee, please?â
You lifted the hem of your dress, showing your leg. There wasnât so much as a scratch where Mingyu had healed you, and your âimaginary friendâ leaned over the doctor's shoulder to inspect his work.Â
âCan one of these imaginary friends move an object in the room for us?â The doctor had asked next. âPerhaps, a book on the shelf over there?â
âWonwoo can do that,â youâd nodded, gazing over at the boy your age who was leaning by the door, a disinterested look on his face.
With a sigh, heâd approached the bookshelf, reaching for a copy of War and Peace. The book had clattered to the ground.
âI donât like being paraded around like this,â Wonwoo had mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
âVery interesting,â the doctor nodded. âIt appears there might be some power at work here. Iâve never heard of a power like this one- two imaginary friends, one of which has healing abilities. Iâll make a note of it, and we will see how the power progresses with age. Itâs possible as your daughter grows, so will the strength of these friends of hers.â
âDo you meanâŠâ Your mother looked down at you nervously. âIs it possible weâll ever see these friends ourselves? Or do you think theyâll stay invisible forever?â
âItâs anyoneâs guess on that. As I said, Iâve never seen a power like this one. All we can do is wait and see what happens.â
oneÂ
Youâre seated on a musty old couch in the middle of a loud frat party, and a large part of you really doesnât want to be here. Even with your friend Joshua keeping you company, youâre not here for yourself, and that always feels obvious to those around you.
Your gaze keeps shifting to Wonwoo, whoâs having the time of his life. Heâd done a keg stand the moment youâd arrived, and now, heâs in the middle of an arm wrestle with Seungcheol, the frat president, who, like your dark protector, also has a strength power variation.
Dino, a new pledge approaches you, handing a fresh cup of alcohol to Joshua. Like you, Dinoâs eyes are locked on Wonwoo. âTell me again why that dude isnât part of the frat? Iâve never seen anyone go toe to toe with Seungcheol like this.â
âShould I tell him, or do you want to?â Joshua grins, bumping his shoulder against your own.
âYou can tell him,â you sigh. In the past ten years since you found out you had an unusual power, youâve gotten tired of explaining it.
âDino, this is y/n, y/n this is Dino. Dino, y/n has a power where she has two imaginary friends, except, these days, theyâre not so imaginary,â Joshua begins. âWonwoo is one of y/nâs imaginary friends-â
âWonwoo prefers the term companions,â you quip.
âRight, one of her companions,â Joshua corrects himself. âHeâs got super strength like Cheol does. The reason Wonwooâs not in the frat is because he canât go more than a ten-meter radius from y/n, heâs tethered to her.â
âThatâs a weird power,â Dino muses.
âDonât be rude,â Joshua snaps, smacking the pledgeâs arm. âAnyways, y/nâs not a huge fan of frats, so Wonwoo canât join because she wonât be caught dead here more than once, maybe twice, a week.â
âMy new therapist says itâs healthy behavior to let Wonwoo do what he wants to do ever so often,â you explain, watching Wonwoo beat Seungcheol at the arm wrestling and proceed to down two shots in celebration. âIâm not sure how she can think him coming to frats, getting drunk, and getting into pissing contests is healthy, but hey, itâs not my job to counsel power holders.â
âYou said you have two uh⊠companions, whereâs the other?â Dino asks, looking around.
âMingyuâs staying inside tonight, he doesnât agree with this sort of thing,â you sigh.
âStaying in?â Dinoâs brows furrow in confusion. âI thought you said there was a radius thing?â
âStaying in here.â You tap your head.Â
âHeâs⊠inside your head?â Dinoâs face scrunches up in something like disgust. âYou have a dude in your head right now?â
Before you can answer, another frat boy comes running up. Seungkwan looks frazzled, his shirt haphazardly buttoned, eyes wide. âY/N!â he bellows. âQuick, I need Mingyu! Some kid is greening out and puking in the bathroom upstairs!â
In an instant, your light protector appears next to you. Mingyu stands up quickly, face already shadowed with concern. âShow me where.â
âJesus-â Dino jumps from the sudden emergence of the six-foot-two brick wall of a man.Â
âCome on,â Mingyu urges, grabbing your hand to pull you from the couch. You let out an annoyed groan as he drags you through the crowd after Seungkwan, leaving Joshua and Dino in your wake.
You arrive to the second-floor bathroom, and you wait outside while Mingyu goes to investigate. Ever since the frat found out Mingyu has healing powers, they call on him for any sort of drunken mistake, including greening out. One touch from Mingyu can clear nausea, and thatâs just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to his powers.
Youâre at a university dedicated to helping people train their abilities, and yet, you often feel like an outsider. It had been clear that youâd been struggling when you arrived, after all, you yourself donât have any overt powers other than being connected to two men with astounding abilities, and thatâs when youâd been assigned a therapist.
This whole âdo things for Wonwoo and Mingyuâ idea has been a lot to wrap your head around, but youâre trying to make it work-
Wonwoo bounds up the stairs, his eyes alight with anger. âWhat are you two doing up here?â he practically growls.
âMingyuâs helping some kid who greened out,â you explain.
âOf course he is, fucking knight in shining armor. Doesnât he know this is my night? Heâs ruining it with good deeds- pulled me away from beer pong.â
You sigh. âDiscuss this with him.â
âI will,â Wonwoo states, pushing past you to enter the bathroom.
Releasing a deep breath, you sink against the wall, listening to the two men argue. Their words are muffled by the loud music that thrums through the house, and you donât particularly care to know the details of their heated exchange.
Youâre exhausted, and after looking at your phone for the time, you decide enough is enough. Pushing your head into the bathroom, you find Mingyu and Wonwoo holding each other by the front of their shirts, and their argument stops the moment you appear.
âItâs past midnight, I want to leave,â you sigh.
âBut-â Wonwoo begins.
âThatâs a good idea!â Mingyu grins.
âWonwoo, I know this is your night, and Iâm sorry, but I just canât do this right now.â
Wonwoo frowns at your words, then releases Mingyu. âFine, whatever. Letâs just go.â
two
âYou seem agitated,â the therapist notes, watching the way Mingyu is fidgeting on the couch.
âItâs justâŠâ he casts a sideways glance at you and Wonwoo, seated next to him with noise canceler headphones on, âI worry that they can hear me.â
âI can promise you they canât. The noise cancellers are playing loud music. This is your time to talk with me.â
âStillâŠâ Mingyu frowns, âit feels weird.â
âWe can ask Wonwoo to go back inside y/nâs head if youâd like.â
âI donât want that either, Wonwoo prefers to be outside.â
The therapist looks down at her notes. âTell me more about that. What does being âinsideâ feel like.â
âItâs dark,â Mingyu explains. âI canât really explain it. Wonwoo and I donât sleep, so I donât know what sleep is like- but Iâm pretty sure itâs not just dark boredom the way being inside feels.â
âDo you both have a preference for being âoutâ then?â
âI mean⊠itâs a whole lot nicer than being in.â
âHave you ever discussed this with y/n?â The therapist cocks her head, and itâs clear sheâs trying to understand, but Mingyuâs still not used to her.
âNo. She has enough on her plate, especially now with the whole âgive Wonwoo time to do what he wants to doâ thing.â Mingyu looks down at his hands, and he picks at his skin.
âI take it you donât enjoy doing what Wonwoo wants to do.â
âNo, and neither does y/n. My night in control is all about good food, relaxing, and watching Netflix. Wonwooâs night in control is frat parties, keg stands, and getting into fights.â
âSounds like comfort versus destruction.â
âDestructive is a good word to describe Wonwoo,â Mingyu admits.Â
âAside from your feelings on frat parties and keg stands and fights, do you think you each having time to choose whatâs happening has been beneficial?â
Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. âWonwoo has been less of a dick lately.âÂ
âThatâs good news.â The therapist jots down some notes. âIf I may, from the way I understand y/nâs power, you and Wonwoo are both parts of her. Opposing parts, but parts nonetheless. Do you think itâs possible that seeing as youâre both parts of her, thereâs some part of y/n, perhaps even some part of you, that enjoys frat parties?â
Mingyu only shrugs.
âFrom what I understand, you mostly stay in during Wonwooâs controlled times. If you werenât so focused on disagreeing with his morals, or whatever it is you do disagree with, are there things about frat parties that you might like?â
âMaybe.â Mingyu picks at his skin again. âI do like to dance.â
âWhat if I challenge you to be out more at frat parties, to let loose and give it a chance?â
âIâll do it because youâre asking me to, but Iâm not sure how good it will feel.â
âMaybe thatâs something to discuss at our next one-on-one.â
Mingyu can only shrug. Heâs been tied to Wonwoo for over ten years now, and he doubts much could change the destructive, obnoxious way he views your darker half.
three
When youâd been accepted to a superpower-focused university, youâd been enrolled in things that would benefit both Mingyu and Wonwooâs powers. For Wonwoo, you have to go to the gym with him and watch him lift obscene amounts of weight. The gym isnât your favorite place, but at least you can get a workout while he trains. For Mingyu, on the other hand, heâs doing healer training in the hospital, and due to doctor-patient confidentiality, youâre stuck sitting in the hallway outside the exam room where he heals people.Â
Itâs quite boring.Â
The one shining grace is that Wonwoo often sits with you, and the two of you watch anime on your phone together. Although Wonwoo doesnât complain as much as he used to about being bored, you can tell from his slouched stance and heavy sighs that heâs just as tired of this whole thing as you are.
âYou know,â you say, nudging him between episodes, âyou donât have to sit with me.â
âIf you have to be here, I have to be here.â
âYou can go back inside, I wouldnât blame you.â
âIâm entertaining, youâre less bored when Iâm here,â Wonwoo insists. âWaiting for Mingyu is boring. You werenât bored at the frat though, because frats are infinitely more fun than hospitals.â
âIt might be boring,â you admit, âbut⊠either way, itâs nice to see you both thriving. I think this therapy thing has been helpful with seeing all sides of this power.â
âAs long as youâre thriving too,â Wonwoo notes, casting you a sideways glance. âIt will be girls' night soon- you can have a whole night without us.â
âFor real this time?â You narrow your eyes at the man who had âpopped outâ during your last girls' night. While you enjoy Wonwooâs company, both he and Mingyu make it very difficult to have female friends, who always get caught up in a sense of longing for the gorgeous men.Â
âFor real,â Wonwoo sighs.Â
âGood, because if I get propositioned by one of my friends again for them to get a chance to sleep with one of you, I might just poke my eye out with a fork.â
Wonwoo lets out a soft chuckle. âMaybe thatâs something you want to talk about with the therapist in your next session.â
âMaybe it is,â you huff, hating whenever Wonwoo says something thatâs actually valid.
Your eyes turn back to your phone, where the anime has progressed through its recap and intro. As boring as sitting in a hospital for hours is, Wonwoo does make it a little bit easier.
four
Wonwoo appreciates Mingyu staying inside your head for his therapy sessions. Itâs less stress having only you seated next to him, your noise cancellers on, your head leaned back, eyes closed. He thinks you might be sleeping, and heâs happy you can rest while his psyche is getting poked and prodded by the therapist.Â
âHow are your classes going?âÂ
âFine,â Wonwoo murmurs.
âElaborate on the word fine.â
He shrugs. âFine. Not good, not bad. Just⊠fine.â
âWhatâs the not good aspect of that?â
Wonwoo looks up at the therapist. He doesnât want to open up, but youâve encouraged him that this is the place to do it.
With a loud sigh, he leans back against the couch. âI guess⊠last week we had a class about prospective jobs for people with strength powers, and I donât know⊠all the other guys have options. They could join superhero teams, make a difference- and I canât.â
âYou canât?â
âNo, I canât,â Wonwoo repeats. âIâm tied to y/n. Anywhere I go, she has to be within a ten-meter radius. I couldnât run into danger and worry about her getting hurt. Sheâs my priority, not anyone else. No matter how much I want to do more with my power- I canât.â
The therapist cocks her head at him, assessing him with analytic eyes. âIt sounds like youâre saying you feel like perhaps your skills are being⊠repressed, in a way.â
âI guess you could say that.â Wonwoo looks down. âI just⊠itâs not as bad for Mingyu. He could get a job at a hospital and y/n would be safe there. Sheâd be bored out of her fucking mind. But she wouldnât be in danger. Iâm starting to think thatâs the best path forward, as much as I hate to admit it.â
âDo you think y/n would prefer that path?â
âI donât know. Havenât talked about it with her.â
âFor three people so closely tied together, it seems as though thereâs not as much communication about the important things as there could be.â
âWe talk,â Wonwoo insists.
âWhen was the last time you all talked about something important?â
Wonwoo can feel hot anger bubbling up inside of him, but luckily, he has a quick example. âWe talked about how we feel about this whole sharing time thing.â
âAnd?â
âMingyu and I both like it, but⊠as much as y/n says sheâs okay with it, Iâm pretty sure itâs draining her to be bored all the time.â
âEarlier you said being tied to y/n has restrictions, do you think being tied to the two of you has restrictions for y/n too?â
âClearly it does.â Wonwoo rolls his eyes. âSome days, I think sheâd prefer to be powerless and be at a regular university.â
âHas she ever voiced that to you?â
âShe never would, even if she felt it. No matter what it might look like to outsiders, the three of us care about each other. Or⊠well, I care about y/n, and so does Mingyu, and she cares about us.â
âYou and Mingyu still havenât been getting along I take it.â
âNope.â
âAnd yet, Mingyu is inside right now. Heâs giving you space to have a private conversation, which is a grace you donât return when itâs his chance to talk with me one-on-one.â
âI hate being inside her head.â Wonwoo has never told you this, but most nights, when you go to sleep, he waits for you to be fully passed out before coming out again. He sits on the couch, watches anime- Mingyuâs gotten on his case for it a number of times, but Wonwoo hates boredom like he hates sand, hot weather, and the way Mingyu hums to himself when he cooks for you. âI donât like being inside,â Wonwoo states again, more firmly this time.
âIf you had your preference, how often would you be out?â
The answer comes quickly, âA hundred percent of the time.â
âAnd this is not something you can talk about with y/n?â
âIt would make her uncomfortable,â Wonwoo says. âShe never talks about it, but- sheâd never had a proper relationship, she canât with two dudes in her head or hanging around all day. I bet she canât even touch herself without worrying me or Mingyu will pop out- I can imagine it would be very uncomfortable, and if I asked to be out all the time, it would put even more pressure on her. I donât want that.â
âYou care about her a lot.â
Wonwoo doesnât see the need in responding.
The therapist clicks her pen. âDo you often think about these things? About⊠y/nâs sexual restrictions due to you and Mingyu?â
A wave of heated anger flashed over Wonwooâs skin at the question. âIâm not a fucking pervert.â
âI never said you were, Iâm just trying to understand the way this unique power affects that aspect of y/nâs life, of your life. Humans are sexual beings, and repression of desires like that can lead to anyone being pent up and frustrated.â
âIf youâre asking if Iâm a virgin, Iâm not.â
âNo?â
âY/Nâs had sleepovers with other girls since coming to university. More than one of her friends has propositioned me.â
âHow frequent are these⊠encounters?â
âNot at all now. Y/N was getting upset with her friends falling for me, and sometimes I felt it was unfair to the girl. I can never have a relationship. On top of that, I felt bad keeping it a secret from y/n.â Wonwoo lets out a sigh. âItâs better for everyone if I keep it in my pants.â
five
Girls' night is going very well so far. You and two friends have already watched a movie, and now, while checking for your next rom-com, youâre all chatting about classes.
Jenni has ice powers, and sheâs progressed an astounding amount already with how long she can use them. Yeji, on the other hand, can manipulate sound waves, and there have been all sorts of weird ways sheâs adapted that for offensive and defensive situations.
It sucks sometimes to listen to them gush about their powers while you donât really have any of your own. Besides Mingyu and Wonwoo, you feel like youâre just y/n. You yourself have no super strength or healing, no mind reading or telekinesis- youâre⊠just y/n, and in a university surrounded by amazing power wielders, it can be hard to hold your head high.
âAnyways, enough about us,â Jenni says, turning her eyes to you, âHow are Wonwoo and Mingyu doing? I heard Mingyuâs one of the top healing power students this year.â
âYeah, theyâre doing good,â you shrug. âWeâve been spending more time at the hospital, Mingyu seems happy to be helping people.â
âHeâs definitely the good one,â Yeji nods, flashing a grin at Jenni. âAre they gonna pop by tonight? Theyâre both uh⊠really hot.â
âI donât think so⊠this is girls' night.â
You donât miss the way Yeji frowns or the way she exchanges a glance with Jenni.Â
âAnyways,â you turn to the TV, âshould we start our movie?â
The girls nod and you begin to watch your next rom-com. You try to enjoy having just girl time, but soon, you start to get hungry.Â
âHow do you feel about ramen?â you ask.
âOooh yum!â Yejiâs eyes brighten at the idea, and you immediately stand to go to the kitchen.
You havenât even reached for a pot to boil water when you feel a presence beside you, and you turn to look up at Mingyu.
âYou guys need a cook?â he grins.Â
You let out a sigh, turning to see if Yeji and Jenni have noticed Mingyu, but theyâre leaning together discussing classes.
âGyu,â you whisper, âYou shouldnât be here.â
âBut I thought maybe youâd wanna relax and I could cook?â
âWait-â you narrow your eyes at him, âthis is the second time in two weeks youâve popped up at the exact time something was convenient for you. First with someone getting sick at the frat, and now with cooking-â
Mingyu looks guilty, and you cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to explain himself. âLook⊠my uh⊠my power has been getting a little better and I kind of have a general sense for your thoughts when Iâm in your head now.â
âWhat!?â You canât help the way your voice raises, and you see Jenni and Yeji whip to look at you from over the couch. âSince when!?â
âJust for a bit-â Mingyu raises his hands in defense. âLook, I especially didnât hear anything about Yeji calling me hot like two seconds ago.â
Now youâre mortified, and one look at your friendâs pink face shows you she is too-
Before you can say another word, Wonwoo appears, and he gives you a once over, then Mingyu. âI uh⊠sensed a disturbance in the force.â
Heâs such a nerd, and in an odd way, he actually calms you down a little. âYou know what? Fuck it. Mingyu, you can cook for us, but when youâre done, youâre both going to my room and wearing headphones and not eavesdropping on my girls' night!â
âOkay, you got it.â Mingyu turns to begin making the ramen, and before you can go to join your friends, Wonwoo grabs your arms.
âUh, sorry about this,â he apologizes, and youâre shocked heâs apologizing for Mingyuâs behavior. âNeither of us really like being âinside,â I think⊠he was just looking for an excuse not to be cooped up.â
âIâm very sorry,â Mingyu says over his shoulder.
âLook- we can talk about all of this later,â you sigh, trying to process what Wonwoo just said. âPlease just- this is my night, yeah?â
âYeah.â Wonwoo nods. âWeâll try not to be a bother.â
six
At this point, youâre pretty sure neither Wonwoo or Mingyu can hear you talking to the therapist, after all, whenever you have the headphones on, everything else is muted by music. Even so, if they were to hear you, part of you wouldnât care.
âIt was girlsâ night,â you state. âGirlsâ night. My night. And even though I asked them to stay inside and not interrupt, they still popped out! And it turns out, their powers have been getting better, so now, even when theyâre inside, they can sense my thoughts?! I have no privacy! Itâs a disaster!â
âDeep breaths,â the therapist encourages you. âI can see why that would be frustrating.â
âVery frustrating!â You let out a deep sigh, and youâre shocked when it helps calm you down. âThe thing that really bugs me though- is Wonwoo said they donât like being inside.â
âWhat about that bugs you?â
âBecause now I feel bad- now I feel like Iâm being a bad friend whenever I ask them to go back inside- but, a girl needs alone time. She needs girl time- without two hot guys walking around and making her friends drool and go all googly-eyed!â
âWhat about your friends ogling Mingyu and Wonwoo frustrates you?â
âI guess- itâs more than the fact that theyâre both hot,â you admit. âI think- sometimes I think I feel lesser to begin with because I donât have any overt powers. I feel powerless in a university of power holders. Itâs hard to make friends if you canât do anything flashy- I never know if girls are friends with me for me, or for them.â
âLet's touch on that feeling of being lesser for a moment, then we can circle back to everything else,â your therapist suggests. âYou said you feel powerless, although, the way I see it, you have two top-tier protectors. Mingyu is the highest-ranked in his healing classes, and his professors say heâs extremely gifted. And Wonwoo is strong, heâll protect you no matter what.â
âBut those are their powers, not mine.â
âThey only exist because of you. Have you ever thought about your future after this? After school?â
âNot extensively,â you admit.
âHow would you feel about being outside an operating room, about Mingyu being the main breadwinner and using his powers to take care of you?â
This isnât something youâve ever considered, and the notion takes you by surprise.Â
âMany people use their powers to make a living, Mingyu is no different, and since heâs an extension of you, allowing him to use his power to take care of things would be moral, it would be natural even, donât you think?â
âAre you suggesting I be a pretty little stay-at-home powerless tether to a healer?â you ask.
âItâs one possible outcome if thatâs something youâd be interested in.â The therapist cocks her head at you. âYou enrolled in this university, obviously you care about Wonwoo and Mingyu furthering their powers- I would find it difficult to see you go through all of this only to get a regular job that doesnât utilize them.â
âI really have not thought that far ahead.â
âThink that far ahead for a moment. Tell me your ideal situation.â
You sit there, thinking. The Mingyu outcome sheâd just painted was interesting, so you dare to consider a Wonwoo option. Could you go with him on hero missions? No. He wouldnât let you. The Wonwoo path wouldnât be good for anyone. Wonwoo gets distracted enough about your safety when you try new weight machines.
âMaybe⊠maybe going forward with Mingyuâs healing career would be good.âÂ
âHealers with the aptitude he has go far in this life,â your therapist notes. âYou wouldnât have to worry about money, or getting hurt.â
âBut what aboutâŠâ You bite your tongue. When Mingyu and Wonwoo had first become visible to others when you were fourteen, it felt like a dream, but when youâd been sixteen and unable to spend time with boys for fear of one appearing- youâd started to realize the downside to having two constant protectors. You try not to think about having a relationship too often, but now that youâre being asked to consider your future, you know youâd be happier to have someone in your life five years from now- even a week from now if that was possible.
âWhat are you thinking?â the therapist asks.
âJust that⊠as years go by, I feel like my hopes for getting a boyfriend diminish more and more. If weâre talking about my future, the one thing I know for sure is that I want someone to share it with.â
âYou have someone. Two someones, in fact.â
Your heart skips a beat in your chest. âAre you suggestingâŠâ
The therapist shrugs, sending you a girlie smile, one Yeji has sent your way multiple times before. âAre you interested in either of them that way?â
âI mean⊠sure⊠look at them.â You cast a sideways glance at Wonwoo, then Mingyu. âBut⊠would it be weird to do that? Theyâre part of me, arenât they?â
âSelf-love and acceptance is the most important part of life, or so many Yogiâs say.â
âYeah, but⊠I donât know, Iâve always thought maybe that would be crossing a line.â
âWhat line?â
âAn invisible one?â you suggest, not quite having the words to explain it yourself.Â
âListen, I understand why this might be daunting. It would change the dynamic, as Iâm sure you know, but, if you are looking to be romantic with someone, or two someones, I know that it would be hard to find a man who would care about you and want to take care of you the way Mingyu and Wonwoo do.â
âIs it okay for you to be suggesting this?â you ask.
âMy job is to further your development, to straighten out any roughness in this dynamic. Iâve not shared this with you yet, but my power is to see auras. Whenever you talk about Mingyu or Wonwoo, your aura lightens, itâs a sign of love. Theirs lighten when theyâre talking about you too. Wonwooâs in particular is quite dark, but whenever you come up, heâs shockingly thoughtful and candid. Mingyuâs easy to read, as Iâm sure you know. They both care about you, and you care about them.â
âI guess- if they feel that way, why havenât they ever said anything?â
âYouâre the boss, y/n, I think sometimes maybe you forget that.â
seven
If thereâs one thing all three of you can agree on, itâs anime. Nights spent watching shows together are always very civil, and you enjoy the peace of this, even as you begin to get a little sleepy.
When you yawn for the third time, Mingyu turns to you. âDo you want to go to bed?â
âNah, not bed, I think I just need a nap,â you explain. âBut donât worry, you donât have to go back inside, I can just⊠curl up here and rest for a bit.â
You and Mingyu are on the main couch, with Wonwoo on the solo seater just next to you. You lay down, but Mingyuâs so big and takes up half of the space, so your feet end up haphazardly on top of his lap, and itâs not the most comfortable position.
âDo you want me to be the big spoon?â Mingyu suggests.
âThat would be nice,â you admit.
You donât often get that close to Mingyu and Wonwoo, but on rare occasions, when youâre feeling an extra need for protective energy, youâve found yourself as a little spoon.
Carefully getting behind you, Mingyu opens up the space so you can stretch your legs. A soft sigh escapes you as you curl up to the pillow, with Mingyuâs warmth heating your back.Â
You close your eyes, and while you are able to rest, you arenât able to fall asleep.
Your mind is too full of thoughts about your last therapy session. Now that a professional has given you the go-ahead to explore things sexually with your two protectors, itâs frequently at the forefront of your mind. Having Mingyuâs strong body behind you isnât helping any of these dirty thoughts, and you do your best to readjust slightly, trying to get into the most comfortable position in the hopes that youâll pass out.
âYou good?â Wonwoo asks.Â
âYou seem fidgety,â Mingyu notes.Â
âJust thinking,â you sigh.Â
Wonwoo casts you a glance. âAbout?âÂ
âJustâŠâ Should you tell them? âI guess I had a kind of weird chat in therapy yesterday.â
âOur therapist is definitely a little unconventional,â Wonwoo agrees, and from the look on his face, you can tell heâs had an interesting chat or too as well.
âDo you want to tell us what happened?â Mingyu asks softly, his hand soothing against your arm.
âWe were talking about the future,â you explain. âShe asked what I wanted with my life. I hadnât thought about it much before, but⊠I did tell her that one thing Iâve always wanted is a relationship. I donât see myself getting old and being alone, you know?â
âYouâll never be alone,â Mingyu assures you, wrapping his arm tight around you to pull you close to his chest. âWeâll always be here with you.â
âAnd thatâs the thing,â you let out a small laugh. âIâm out here wishing for a life partner, when I already have two.â
The room goes quiet, neither of your protectors say anything. You hear Mingyu take in a sharp breath, and Wonwoo looks at the man over your shoulder. Thereâs an unspoken communication between the two of them, and then Wonwooâs eyes meet yours.
âWhat are you saying, y/n?â he asks.
âI guess⊠what Iâm saying isâŠâ You take a deep breath, mustering up your courage. âWhat if⊠what if we gave it a try?â
âGave it a try?â Mingyu repeats.
âYou know, it.â You look at him over your shoulder, willing him to understand.
âI think you need to spell it out for him,â Wonwoo chuckles. âHeâs such a goody toe shoes he doesnât get that youâre propositioning us for sex.â
âSheâs what?â Mingyuâs lips part in confusion, and he looks between you and Wonwoo.
âI mean, unless you donât want to-â Youâre quick to try to back out of this, feeling anxious that youâd ever even brought it up.
âWe want to,â Wonwoo assures you. âMingyuâs been in love with you since we were sixteen.â
âHave you really?â you ask, blinking up at your bright protector.Â
âI uh⊠wellâŠâ Mingyu stammers, his skin turning a cute shade of pink.
âAnd what about you, Wonwoo?â you turn, looking at the stoic man. âAre you in love with me too?â
âIâm the bad one, remember?â Wonwoo smirks. âAs if Iâd get sappy like he does.â
âI feel like thatâs a yes,â you grin, heart thundering in your chest at this new development. âHow come neither of you ever said anything.â
âWeâre not big fans of putting pressure on you,â Mingyu says softly.
âIt would also change things,â Wonwoo notes.
âYeah, but, part of me thinks it would change things for the better,â you admit.
âSoâŠâ Wonwoo pauses your show, turning to face you and Mingyu. âAre we going to do this?â
You swallow the lump in your throat, giving a quick nod.
âYeah?â Behind you, Mingyu presses closer, his hand caressing your arm again, his breath hot along your throat. âAre you sure?â
âIâm sure.â
âI think he wants to hear you say it,â Wonwoo grins. âWe both do.â
âI wantâŠâ your words falter, but youâre quick to steady yourself even as Mingyu rubs his clothed cock against your ass. âI want you both to fuck me.â
Mingyu presses his lips to your neck, itâs a soft kiss, but it sets your body on fire. You let out a sigh of delight, tilting your head to give him more access. Tingles of pleasure erupt across you as he continues to press his gentle lips to your skin, his hand slipping down to cup your hip.
He squeezes you, almost enough to hurt, and itâs a rough motion from your generally gentle giant- it betrays how he feels, how deeply he wants you, and it makes you moan in excitement.
âWe should move into the bedroom,â Wonwoo directs, standing from the single sofa. âCome on,â he reaches down for you, easily lifting you from Mingyu, who lets out an annoyed whine.
Sometimes you forget Wonwoo has the power of strength, and he carries you like you weigh nothing. His gaze is forward, his intentions set on getting to your bed, and itâs so incredibly sexy you think you might die.
âHow do you want to do this?â Wonwoo asks softly.
âHmm?â Youâre a little shocked at the question, and it takes you a moment to even register it. âOh, uh⊠no anal?â
Wonwoo laughs, looking down at you with those pretty eyes of his. âYeah, that feels a little advanced for you.â
âFuck you, I can be advanced!â
âSure you can, just not tonight.â Wonwoo places you on the bed, and Mingyu, who had been following the two of you, is quick to big spoon you again, his lips returning to your throat.
Your eyes are on Wonwoo, and after a moment of watching you, he gets onto the bed too, facing you.
âYou sure youâre ready for this?â he asks, cupping your cheek.
âUh huh.â
Wonwoo only laughs, shaking his head slightly before he brings his mouth to your own. Itâs a soft kiss, and it takes you off guard. Behind you, Mingyu is getting more and more restless, all hands and tongue- but Wonwoo, in contrast, feels as cool, calm and collected as a cucumber.
At this point, Mingyu is practically dry-humping your butt, grinding his front against you and moaning. His sounds are awfully distracting, and you break your kiss with Wonwoo to look over your shoulder at the man who immediately grabs you to bring your lips to his.
Wonwoo lets out a chuckle again. âIâve got good news and bad news. The bad news is, Mingyuâs a virgin. The good news is, that means heâll be easy to teach.â
âIâll be good,â Mingyu murmurs against your lips.
âWait.â You turn to look at Wonwoo again. âHeâs a virgin⊠youâre not?â
âIâm the bad one, you keep forgetting that,â Wonwoo laughs. âItâs not like youâre an angel either.â
Thatâs true, so you choose not to dwell on it. Instead, you grab Mingyuâs hand on your hip, guiding it down to your abdomen, then bellow the waistband of your sweatpants.Â
âDo you want to direct him, or should I?â you challenge Wonwoo, who cocks a brow at your change in tone.
âTouch her pussy, Gyu. Tell me how wet she is.â
Mingyu moans in your ear as his hand explores further down, his fingers brushing over your clit then between your pussy lips. âFuck, sheâs so wet, and so warm-â
âTease her a little. Her clit is at the top, itâs this small, pearl-shaped bud. Girls love it when you play with that. Sheâll be dripping by the time youâre done.â
God, hearing Wonwoo talk like this is taking your breath away, and you squirm as Mingyu does as heâs told, his touch lingering on your clit.
âI found it,â Mingyu groans, pressing his cock against your ass again. âDoes this feel good, baby?â
âFeels so good, Gyu,â you whine, your hands reaching out to grab Wonwooâs broad shoulders like an anchor.Â
Wonwoo watches your every expression. âOnce sheâs wet enough, you can try to slide one of your fingers into that tight pussy of hers. Itâs important to stretch her out since I know youâre packing.â
A shiver runs through you now. Mingyuâs big- you know it in your bones, you feel it against your ass-Â
âCan I?â Mingyu asks, sucking on your ear lobe. âCan I put my finger in your tight, wet pussy?â
You nod. âPlease-â
He teases your opening, and you wait with bated breath for him to finally push in. When he does, you both moan loudly.
âFuck her like that for a bit, then see if she can handle another finger,â Wonwoo instructs next. âWhile youâre doing that⊠how do you feel about stroking me off, gorgeous?â
You swallow thickly, nodding. Then you reach down for Wonwooâs pants, helping him shift them down to his thighs. His cock slaps up against his abdomen, hard as a rock and glistening with precum. Heâs big, on the longer side more than thick, but you donât mind. You grasp him, rubbing your thumb through the precum to spread it across his skin.
âDo you need direction too?â Wonwoo grins at you.
âDonât even try it,â you warn him.
âI was just teasing, you donât seem to mind Mingyuâs teasing.â
âThatâs cuz heâs-â Your words are choked off as Mingyu thrusts his finger in your pussy. âHeâs doing a different kind of teasing.â
âCan I add another?â Mingyu groans in your ear, seemingly oblivious to the bickering between you and Wonwoo.Â
âYeah,â you nod, stroking Wonwoo faster while you wiggle your hips as an open invitation to Mingyu.Â
Two fingers drag through your pussy lips, and when Mingyu pushes them into you, you swear you see stars. You throw your head back, eyes closing in ecstasy-
âIf you crook your fingers, there should be a soft, spongy spot. Thatâs called the G-spot, girls like it when you apply pressure there,â Wonwoo tells Mingyu.
You feel Mingyuâs fingers beginning to explore inside of you, and you let out a whimper when he finds the spot Wonwoo is talking about.
âLooks like you found it, Gyu,â Wonwoo grins. âSee? What did I tell you? A quick learner.â
Mingyu applies more pressure to your G-spot as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. Soon, you can hear how wet you are, and Wonwooâs eyes darken.
âI think youâre just about ready for him, donât you?â he asks.
âYeah- fuck it, yeah,â you nod quickly. âLet's all get naked.â
Mingyuâs hand is out of your pants before you can even finish your sentence. He licks his fingers off, groaning at your taste, before he rips off his pants and shirt.
Your clothes are quick to follow, discarded onto the floor. âIâm gonna ride him,â you announce.
âSounds like a good idea,â Wonwoo nods.Â
You swing a leg over Mingyuâs hips, your hands flat on his chest- when you look down at Mingyu, youâre overwhelmed with a feeling you quite canât explain. Bending down, you press your lips to Mingyuâs, capturing his cock between his body and your pussy. You grind against him while you make out, a flurry of tongues and whimpers of pleasure.Â
âHe might not last long, so Iâd be careful if I were you,â Wonwoo warns, and you feel his body behind yours, his hands trailing up your sides.
You pull away from Mingyu, grabbing his cock and lining it up with your pussy. Heâs so big- and his tip stretches you out as you slowly seat yourself down onto him, your wet hole taking inch after inch until youâre full to the hilt.Â
âFuck-â Mingyu whimpers, his hands settling on your hips.
âFeels like heaven, huh?â Wonwoo asks.
âEven better than heaven,â Mingyu breathes.
Wonwooâs lips find your throat, and you arch your head back, enjoying the way his hands capture your breasts, massaging you. His thumb and pointer squeeze your nipple and you gasp, your pussy clamping down on Mingyu, who groans loudly.
âYou should start riding him,â Wonwoo says, his mouth hot on your neck. âHere, Iâll help you.â
Wonwooâs hands find your hips, and he lifts you off of his fried before pushing you back down. You let out a whimper of pleasure, closing your eyes and resting your head back against Wonwooâs shoulder.Â
With his super strength, he can easily lift you up and put you back down on Mingyuâs cock, effectively taking away all the leg strain so you can enjoy every moment of Mingyu filling you up.
âI might be bad, but I can be nice,â Wonwoo coos. âLook at me doing all the work.â
Mingyu lets out a grunt, and he begins to thrust up to meet you, driving his cock even deeper into your pussy.
âFuck-â you gasp, reaching behind you to thread your fingers in Wonwooâs hair.
âHe feels good, doesnât he?â Wonwoo asks. âHey Gyu, rub her clit. Wonder if we can get her to cum for us.â
Mingyuâs thumb finds your sensitive bud and you squeal with delight, pussy throbbing around the massive cock impaling you.Â
Each circle of his digit on your clit drags you closer and closer to the edge, your sounds filling the room-
âSheâs gonna cum,â Wonwoo announces. âTell her how badly you want to watch her cum.â
âWanna watch you cum,â Mingyu moans.
âThatâs not very original,â Wonwoo tuts.
âFuck, you look so good bouncing on my cock. We both wanna see you cum. Youâll cum for us, right?â Mingyu looks so desperate. Lips puffy and parted, skin a soft pink, dark hair curled with sweat by his strong brow-
âOkay, okay- fuck,â you groan. âIâm gonna- fuck, Iâm close-â
âWhen a girl tells you sheâs close, donât change anything,â Wonwoo tells the man below you. âDonât add pressure or take pressure away from her clit. Donât change your pace- the only thing Iâd say you can change, is you can fuck her harder, but since youâre the bottom right now...â
Wonwooâs grip on you tightens, and he bounces you even harder onto Mingyuâs cock, which makes you nearly cry from how good it feels. âOh my god, oh my god-â
âHow about you cum for us?â Wonwoo suggests. âIâm sure youâll get Mingyu there too.âÂ
âAre you gonna cum with me, Gyu?â you ask, looking down at Mingyu from under heavy lids. âPlease- I want you to cum with me?â
Mingyu lets out a grunt, his brows furrowing in concentration. Youâd bet heâs holding off his high now, waiting for you, waiting for the moment you say itâs okay-
The cord in your stomach coils tighter and tighter, and when Wonwoo leans over you to whisper the word, âCum,â in your ear, you canât even help yourself.
Your pussy tightens like a vice on Mingyuâs cock, all the tension snapping as waves of pleasure throb from your core outward to the rest of your body. The moan you let out is obscene, and the one Mingyu echoes is even worse, in the most sinful, sexy way.
âFuck-â Mingyu grabs your hips, forcing you down on him completely, unable to move while the contractions of your orgasm milk his cock for all heâs worth.
âLook at you two cum whores,â Wonwoo breathes, and for some reason, the degradation doesnât phase you in the slightest. âBet you both needed that, didnât you?â
You can only whimper a sound of affirmation.Â
Wonwooâs hands smooth along your back, helping your body calm down from the aftershocks of your orgasm.
âLet me know when youâre ready for more,â he says softly.
âNow,â you respond without hesitation. âFuck me now.â
âYouâre that eager?â
âEager- plus the moment weâre done, I think I might pass out,â you admit.Â
Wonwoo only laughs. âIâm going to help you off of him, then itâs face down, ass up. You good with that?â
âSo good with that,â you grin.Â
Itâs easy enough for Wonwoo to help you off of Mingyu. He sets you next to your gentle giant, whoâs still trying to catch his breath.Â
You immediately push your butt toward Wonwoo, arching your back and looking at him over your shoulder.
âWow, you really are ready,â he muses, hands gliding over your ass. âDonât fall asleep on me or it might bruise my ego.â
âSleep after you cum, so donât worry if itâs quick.â
âWhat if I want to take my time?â Wonwoo asks, dragging his cock up and down your slit.
âThen Iâd say you have so many other opportunities in the future to take your time, but right now, I just want to be full, and then I can pass out between you and Gyu.â
âYou know what? That doesnât actually sound that bad.â Wonwoo presses his cock into your wet hole, Mingyuâs cum acting as a kind of lube that makes it all too easy for Wonwooâs length to glide against your walls.
âFuck-â you groan, grabbing at the bed sheets.Â
Wonwoo isnât as thick as Mingyu, but somehow he reaches deeper. Two hands spread your ass cheeks so each rough thrust has Wonwooâs cock going as deep as possible, his tip kissing your cervix and making your toes curl.
âTaking it so good,â Wonwoo muses, digging his fingers into your flesh.
âSo pretty,â Mingyu whispers, pushing a stray strand of hair from your face.
He leans in, and you find yourself kissing Mingyu while Wonwoo rails you from behind. You can hardly help your moans as Mingyuâs tongue glides over yours.
âItâs kind of hot watching you two make out,â Wonwoo admits, his thrusts slowing so he can appreciate the view in front of him.
âYeah?â You kiss Mingyu even harder and he shuffles closer, groping your breast.
âRub her clit for me Gyu,â Wonwoo instructs. âIf she wants this fast, weâll have to get her to cum first.â
Your body tingles- you should have known Wonwoo would want one of your orgasms for himself if you gave one to Gyu. You have no problems with them providing you pleasure and you providing them with a view of your high in return.
You simply relax while they work you up together, acting in unison.Â
Mingyuâs fingers are rubbing your clit in rough circles, and the feeling of Wonwoo filling you up has you going crazy. Youâre doing your best to hold onto the moment, but you can feel yourself getting close to the edge again.
âYouâre getting tight, gorgeous,â Wonwoo muses. âGonna cum for us?â
âYeah- almost there,â you whimper, arching your back even more so when Wonwoo drives forward, he hits a specific spot that has you seeing stars. âFuck-â
âYou feel so good, want to feel you cum on my cock, wanna feel your perfect pussy get all tight and creamy with my cum-â Wonwoo grabs your ass tighter, and the slight pain paired with his dirty words is enough to throw you over the edge.
Your entire body tenses as the cord of pleasure snaps, erupting through you like a volcano of white, hot intensity. âFuck-â you whine, and Wonwoo echoes the sound as your pussy grips him harder than ever before.
âShit, Iâm cumming,â Wonwoo warns you, his thrusts faltering as he shoots his load deep inside your throbbing core.Â
He lets out sinful groans, and you love the way he sounds as he rides you through your orgasm, roughly ramming into your gspot with shallow thrusts that feel like heaven.
Wonwoo finally comes to a stop, and you can feel him breathing heavily against your bare shoulders.Â
âClean up time, then bed,â Mingyu reminds you before you can close your eyes and fall asleep then and there.
âRight-â you whisper lazily, resting your cheek against the comforter.
âHere, Iâll help you, but only if I get to be your big spoon,â Mingyu suggests.
You nod. Wonwoo pulls out of you, and Mingyu is quick to bring a warm cloth to your aching core, wiping up the cum and getting you situated. He helps you lay down, disposing of the towel before joining you at your rear. His lips are soft against your shoulder, his hand gliding the expanse of your arm.
âWe love you,â he tells you. âEven if Wonwoo wonât say it cuz heâs a jerk.â
Wonwoo only laughs, laying on his back in front of you and Mingyu. Youâre too exhausted to say much other than, âI love you guys too,â and with that, you fall asleep next to your two lifelong protectors.
You donât know what the future holds, but one thing is clear; as long as Mingyu and Wonwoo are protecting you, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.
âïžÂ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this might be low key my hero academia inspired- I've been going through the anime's like an addict lol
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đź preview. Itâs been interesting learning about yourself and your sexual tastes with Mingyu and Wonwoo
cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, dildo use, pussy eating, oral (m/f receiving), deep throating, Mingyu monster cock agenda, spitting, spanking, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, multiple reader orgasms, cream pie, Eiffel tower/spit roasting, double penetration, cumming on y/nâs face, masturbation, etc⊠ I petnames. Baby & gorgeous.Â
đč rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 145
đ starring. Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader
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âSo,â your therapist grins as she looks amongst you and your protectors, âIâm guessing things are going well?â
You can only smile, squeezing Wonwoo and Mingyuâs hands.
âItâs never been this easy,â Mingyu says wistfully, bringing your knuckles up to his lips to kiss.
âHow are you two getting along?â your therapist addresses Wonwoo and Mingyu.
âShockingly,â Wonwoo sighs, turning to grin at Mingyu, âI feel like weâre pretty good. Once Mingyu started listening to me, for once, things got easier.â
You nearly choke at Wonwooâs words- reminiscing about how well Mingyu listens to Wonwooâs instructions in bed.
âThis is a good step,â your therapist smiles. âIâm proud of all three of you.â
No oneâs ever told you they were proud of you for getting railed like a whore in heat by not one, but two, men- but hey, thereâs a first time for everything.
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svt taglist
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#mingyu#svthub#thediamondlifenetwork#wonwoo#jeon wonwoo#kim mingyu#kim mingyu smut#mingyu smut#jeon wonwoo smut#wonwoo smut#svt#svt smut#minwon#minwon smut#mingyu wonwoo smut#mingyu svt#mingyu svt smut#wonwoo svt#wonwoo svt smut
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ok so imagine drew and younger!reader having their first real argument, and we know sheâs always right!!! <3
pairing , drew starkey x angel!reader warnings , them arguing + drew being a meanie notes, hope yall like this <3 i need dis man bad
ᥣđ©Ëâ.Ë đ
"i just don't get why you need to be out till 1AM with your friends. like what are you guys even doing?" you questioned drew. he told you he would be home around 11, but two hours later there he was.
"i haven't seen these people in ages. we're catching up. ever heard of it?" drew snapped back, his attitude surprised you, he never got like this.
"okay. didn't need the attitude." you huffed under your breath.
"attitude?" drew furrowed his eyebrows and gave you a confused look, like you were the one asking stupid questions. "i walk in the house and you attack me with questions. and i have the attitude?" his voice was still calm, but for some reason it made you even more mad than him yelling would've. it was like he was trying to make you feel stupid.
but maybe that was where the age difference between you and drew stood out the most; arguments. he knew how to remain calm most of the time, he never yelled, even when he was really upset with you. whereas you immediately got defensive and mad. but looked like tonight he was taking a new approach.
"you're missing my point drew."
"and what point is that exactly?" drew looked at you like he was actually waiting for an answer, like his question wasn't rhetorical. you felt so stupid. drew had never gotten so blunt and snippy with you before. you didn't know how to handle it.
"whatever." you walked out of your shared bedroom, shutting the door behind you, feeling the waterworks already forming.
"seriously? you're gonna go run off and cry now?" drew yelled after you. he knew you too well.
after sighing and putting his feelings to the side for right now, drew followed right behind you. where he found you on the couch, crying in your own hands. he felt really bad. "baby, i'm sorry." he sat next to you, embracing you in a hug. "it's just been a long night."
you didn't respond, so drew took that as his opportunity to pick you up bridal style and carry you back to the bedroom.
your head nuzzled into his chest, tears leaving stains on his shirt. "you're so mean."
#âčâ works â#âčâ blurbs â#ê° đ„» angel!reader ⥠ê±#drew starkey#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x female reader
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đđđđđđđđ đđđđ
đ summary; the one where lando wins the grand prix on his girlfriendâs birthday weekend
ÊÉ pairing; lando norris x reader (established relationship)
ᥣđ© fc; your beautiful self
â type; irl (& a smidge of smau)
⥠a/n; ITâS MY BIRTHDAY!!! iâm sorry for not posting for ages, iâve been really busy but i have more time now. i promise to continue my seriesâ as soon as i can. xx
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
Last lap. Last corner. Last push. And heâs done it. Lando Norris has won the 2024 Hungarian Grand Prix. His second Formula One career win. He can hardly believe it.
Youâd been watching the race from the Mclaren garage, biting your nails down to the quick. The nerves were building the longer you watched Lando lead the race. When it hit the 65th lap, so did your tears. You knew he was winning. And he did.
âWoooo! We did it!â He screams down the radio, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as he can finally relax. He won. âHappy birthday baby, this oneâs for you!â
Hearing his team radio only made you tear up more, the grin on your face widening as you removed your headphones, immediately making your way to the barriers. The mechanics and engineers letting you through to the front, knowing Lando will want to see you.
The adrenaline was still fluttering inside Landoâs heart as he climbed out the car. Getting weighed and then pulling off his helmet and balaclava, placing them down before scanning the crowd for you.
There you are.
The sparkle in his eyes only growing when heâs met with your beaming face, tears still running down it. He ran towards you as fast as his legs would allow him, stopping in front of you. He reaches forward and your arms go to his neck, expecting a hug.
The shock comes when his hands go under your shoulders and he lifts you over the barrier with surprising ease, a squeal leaving your lips at the moment. Your legs find their way around his waist, clinging to him. His hands rest on the underside of your thigh to hold you up.
Your lips meet his in a delicate, loving kiss. He grins against your lips, feeling like the happiest man alive. Heâd just won a race and now heâs holding the girl of his wildest dreams in his arms. Why wouldnât he be?
âIâm so proud of you,â The whisper leaves your mouth, though your lips donât disconnect from his. âI love you.â
He didnât realise his smile could get any wider but it did. He chases your lips, a small peck landing on them. âI love you so much sweetheart. Happy birthday.â
The cameras are loving this. Every single lens on the two of you. But you donât care. Why would you when the only thing that matters is right in front of you?
âMy birthday was yesterday Lan.â You tell him, your forehead pressing against him.
He canât help the chuckle that leaves his lips as you remind him. Of course he knows, heâd spent the whole evening after qualifying spoiling you every way he could. âDonât ruin the moment,â He rolls his eyes at you though thereâs nothing malicious to it.
His hands meet your waist as your feet meet the ground once more. You lean up to kiss him again, never wanting to leave him. But you can see his team waiting to congratulate him. âYou have a team waiting for you.â
Landoâs head turns as heâs met with a sea of papaya clad mechanics waiting to grant him congratulations. He turns back to you, not wanting to leave but he knowing he has to. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing for a moment as he does.
âIâll see you on that top step,â You whisper to him, hand sliding down his arm as you remove them from around his neck. He smiles at you before making his way to his team.
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
Watching Lando on the podium was something youâd always loved doing. The way he shone was like nothing youâd ever seen. But there was something about him when he was on that top step. It was as if the Gods were bathing him in light. He looked surprisingly angelic for a man whoâd just been sweating in a car for the past two hours.
As the British national anthem began, Landoâs eyes couldnât help but scan the crowd for you. He found you almost instantly, stood next to his dad, grinning widely up at him. He kept eye contact with you the entire time it played, not wanting to look away.
Being on the top step of the podium, receiving that number one trophy was an indescribable feeling. Lando was caught off guard as his fellow drivers who joined him on the podium, Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, drenched him in champagne. He just managed to do his iconic champagne pop, getting his revenge as he sprayed them back.
Shaking the champagne bottle once more, he pointed it over the balcony, aiming down at the crowd below. His eyes falling upon his wonderful girlfriend as he tried to protect her hair from the champagne. This was unbelievable. There was a sea of papaya as the fans watched his podium celebrations.
He loved it so much.
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
y/nusername
liked by landonorris, yourbff and others
y/nusername the best birthday weekend ever!! iâm so proud of you baby, i love you
tagged; landonorris
commentsâŠ
user1 my parents đ„č
yourbff i miss you, my wife
‷ y/nusername i miss you more babe
user2 landoâs radio was the cutest thing ever
‷ user3 âhappy birthday baby, this oneâs for youâ SOBBING đđ
mclaren our lucky charm đ§Ą
landonorris iâm so in love with you
‷ y/nusername iâm in love with you
user4 if itâs not like them, i donât want it
oscarpiastri this does not warrant garage pda, i donât wanna see that
‷ user5 not oscar exposing them đđ
landonorris donât know how iâm gonna top this know
‷ y/nusername better get to brainstorming
âââââââââââââââââââââââ
taglist: @danielshoe @amorrziinho @urfavwelshie @xylinasdiary @cleaswn @soamericn @marknolee @shineforever19 @formulaal @manicpixiemom @lemon-lav
#ln4#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#lando norris x reader#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#formula one x reader#f1 smau#formula one#f1#formula one x you
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[To be loved is to be changed. And while being married to you has changed Mihawk, it's not entirely for the better. He's a possessive and protective lover to the marrow of his bones.]
(TW for unwanted sexual comments)
Mihawk knew the name 'Shantaro' quite well. Any time you told him a story from your adolescence that revolved around borderline illegal, unethical or simply reckless adventures, Shantaro was there. The little devil on your shoulder but as reliable as a true angel.
He, however, never expected you to run into Shantaro on the odd night when the two of you can go out. Comfortably basking in your presence, Mihawk is thoroughly enjoying your undivided attention.
Until.
You're suddenly rendered speechless as you notice something - someone - over his shoulder. A wide smile spreads across your face. Mihawk is unsure whether he should rejoice with how beautiful you look or seethe, knowing that another person dared to distract you from him.
"It's Shantaro!" you squeal excitedly. "I'm sorry, love, I'll be just a moment. I haven't seen her in ages!"
Mihawk doesn't even try to stop you as you make your way through the crowd at the lounge. His watchful gaze follows your steps as you approach a stringy woman in a silver dress. A hurricane of black curls sits on top of her head. Her piercing, grey eyes notice you, suddenly widening with both surprise and happiness. The two of you engulf each other in a bone-crushing hug, silently exchanging feelings of longing towards the closest friend from younger years.
The swordsman's night, however, is about to get even worse as he hears someone behind him whisper:
"She's a minx, that foxy wife of yours."
He turns around with his jaw and fists clenched. Mihawk's enraged gaze meets the face of an amused man who is casually sipping on his drink. There's a glint in the stranger's eyes that makes the swordsman's skin crawl - he wanted to get under Dracule's skin.
"Don't look so surprised," the stranger reprimands him. The man must have mistaken Mihawk's baffled expression at the bold words for genuine surprise that someone put two and two together. Truthfully, he couldn't care less whether people know that he's married. "Many pirates get hard fantasising about having their way with the Warlord's wife." Judging by the way the man licks his lips and hides a certain hunger behind his eyes, it's clear he's part of the aforementioned group. "But the Warlord himself? Unfortunately for him, she turns him soft," he drones the word as though it's a serious insult.
"Yes, she does," Mihawk answers slowly.
The events that followed happened exceptionally fast: Mihawk reached for the stranger's neck and slammed the man's head against the bar counter. Curiously, people happening to be in their vicinity carry on as though nothing bizarre is happening - they are smart enough not to get in Dracule Mihawk's way, especially when he is visibly upset.
Blood is gushing from the strange man's forehead, his eye already beginning to swell and change colour. The swordsman tilted his victim's head back just enough to lean down and growl. "Which is why I'm going to kill you much faster than you deserve for your offence."
Mihawk glances in your direction. You're still occupied, excitedly telling Shantaro about the years after you've last met her.
He'll be done before you notice him gone.
#mihawk x reader#mihawk x you#mihawk fanfiction#mihawk imagine#mihawk fanfic#dracule mihawk#mihawk one piece#mihawk opla#one piece#one piece x reader#opla#dracule mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk x you#dracule mihawk fanfiction#dracule mihawk imagine#dracule mihawk fanfic#one piece mihawk#one piece dracule mihawk#one piece fanfiction#one piece imagine#one piece fanfic#dracule mihawk opla#opla fanfiction#opla x reader#one piece x you#opla imagine#opla fanfic#opla x you#op live action#one piece live action
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àšă»ââââ TELL ME IâM A LITTLE ANGEL, SWEETHEART OF YOUR CITY ââââă»à§
pairing âžș satoru gojo x reader
teaser âžș as a child, you were taken in by the powerful gojo clan and raised alongside their heir, gojo satoru â but never as his sibling. now, at an elite school, your fragile bond is tested when an actual noble woman enters the picture, bringing in a marriage proposal.
content âžș fluff, reader is an academic achiever and has a good handwriting, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, cliff hanger ending, human auctions, implied slavery, jealousy, implied torture, shoko talks about using medical tools for torture (lol), blood, implied abuse, implied grape (not at reader), magic!au, historic!au, the ages of reader and gojo throughout the story: 3, 10, 12, 15, 17
count âžș 22k
authorâs note âžș thank you to everyone for waiting patiently! this is just the part one, i hope it does well to give me enough motivation to write a part two. i have so soo many ideas iâm hoping to incorporate.
đ§ ao3 wattpad
You sat next to the man, bowing deeply with him at some figure you couldnât care less about. It had to be someone important obviously, and you knew now was the time you were going to get kicked out of a place for the tenth time in your life, unwittingly dragging this poor man with you as well. He had seemed kind enough when he had bought you off at that auction.
He wasnât anything like you had feared. You had met other girls bonding with each other inside the cage; girls older and prettier than you, getting sold off one by one to old and creepy men who looked like they couldnât keep it in their pants. You had dreaded meeting the same fate as them. That was, until the man who kept increasing his offer for you looked younger and stronger.
He was probably like one of those army officers you had seen at your motherâs house, who would stand guard outside your small room each night she and her happy family went out to lavish parties, to make sure you didnât escape. Well, even if you did, you thought that was what they would have wanted, but they kept saying that they didnât want anyone noticing your existence. Not that they didnât have a good reason.
In your mind, you had hoped the man would win, and when he had, the triumphant look on his face made you sigh in relief; at least now you were sure you wouldnât be used as a hole for life. But were you, though? Because the thoughts kept creeping back; the looks on the other girlsâ faces when they were taken away by their new masters. But the mysterious man had made you sit on his pretty horse, taking you somewhere, away from the horrifying auctions that represented the worst atrocities made by humans.
You peered from under your hands, still in your bowing position. The person had now risen. He had dark hair and vivid blue eyes. He seemed to peer at you in as much curiosity as you were at him. That was, until a crisp voice had cut through the silence, knocking you out of your bow when it addressed your saviour to âpack his things and leaveâ.
âI understand, madam,â he said smoothly, getting up to leave, not before giving another curt nod. Then he turned to you. âThis is where my job ends, little one. Youâll be much happier here,â he whispered, nodding at you and standing up. You almost wanted to stop him before you remembered you were told several times that you didnât possess any human emotions. So you watched him leave, wondering how he was so sure this wouldnât be another one of your previous houses.
âAs for the child,â you snapped your head back to the dark-haired man in front of you who seemed to be giving commands, âwe must decide which family keeps her. From the looks of it, she needs to be tended to,â he eyed your wounds from previous struggles you wished to forget about.
You stared at the people he was questioning, and they all looked away. This seemed like a meeting room, and the people were lined up sitting parallel to each other. Some were glaring at you like you had come to raid their houses, fuck their wives and drink their blood. None of them seemed to realize you were only a child of ten. Nervous under all the gazes, you wished to find another person you could bow to, just to avoid all the staring you were receiving.
âWe will,â said the same voice you had heard earlier, and you finally looked at its source.
She had long, white hair that seemed to reach till the floor. Her eyes were light, and she looked pretty. She had a cold look on her face that made her seem frightening, though, and that was probably why you saw that none of the others could even muster enough courage to look at her eyes when she said those words.
âWell, itâs decided then,â the man said in a final tone, as if he had only bargained about the price of a few watermelons from his local vendor. âLove, if you will.â
Love? Oh, maybe they were married.
The woman stood up and everyone bowed at her again. You were about to sink back into the position before she crouched down in front of you, caressing your hair with a touch that made you look back at her.
âCome with me, daughter.â
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
âI have a sister now?â âShh, and donât call her that. Iâve already told you, sheâs not your sisterââ
âDoes she know how to ride horses?â âDo you ever do anything else?â
âShe should know how to ride horses.â âYou can teach her.â
âOh, wow, really?â
You scrambled away from the door at the sounds of footsteps returning and sunk back into the expensive bed the woman had had prepared for you. The âwomanâ who asked you to call her âmomâ, somehow losing the twinkle in her eye when commanding maids around, which she seemed to regain every time you spoke something.
You knew it was a trap though. If she really âadoptedâ you and wanted you to call her âmomâ, wouldnât that mean you were the sister to whatever child she already had? Yet here you were, all cleaned up and changed, almost believing the charade before realizing the child was being advised not to consider you as their sister.
You bit your lip, trying not to cry. At least you werenât at your old house thinking of ways to poison your family, or in that cage counting down for when it was your turn, or lying dead in some creepâs backyard. Maybe you could enjoy this while it lasted.
âMay I come in?â A polite, boyish voice rang out from behind your door. A hushed whisper of an older woman seemed to reprimand him for not knocking, and the two started to argue.
âYes?â You didnât quite know how to respond professionally to the request, so your answer came off more as a question. You sure hoped the man wouldnât scold you for your manners as well.
A boy stepped forward, and you immediately knew he was the son of the two clan leaders. Not because of his clothes, but because of his face. He had the same white hair as his mother, and the blue eyes he got from his father. Maybe blue eyes were a thing of the clan?
âHi,â he said awkwardly, and the door closed behind him. âMother sent me here for âbonding timeâ.â You kept staring at him, not realizing you were staring. He looked up at you and flushed. Only then did you realize, chuckling awkwardly and scratching your wrists, trying to get used to the expensive scents the maids had covered you with.
âCan I⊠uh,â he trailed off, staring at you, and you blinked back at him, not knowing what he was going to say.
â...sit on the bed?â You offered, and he raised an eyebrow before climbing on it, sitting in the most formal position you had ever seen.
âDo you like horse riding?â âWhat?â
He flushed even more. âMother said we should ask each other questions to get to know the other better.â
âOh.â âYeah.â
There was another silence.
âSo itâs my turn to ask a question now?â You asked. âYeah.â
âDo you like potatoes?â
âWhat?â He processed your question for a solid five seconds before bursting into laughter. You kept staring at him as if he was stupid. Did you say something stupid?
âI like you!â He said in between giggles, his old formal, uptight position long lost. It was your turn to flush now. No one had ever said they even wanted you alive, let alone say that. Well, no one except for three people in the past few hours, and now this guy. You had a feeling you might prefer this over anything else for now.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The soft hum of celebration still lingered in the air. Lanterns flickered outside glowing warmly across your room. You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the wrapped gifts and trinkets the Gojo family had insisted on presenting you earlier. It had been strange, the idea of sharing a birthday with Satoru. You didnât even know your real birthday, so his â no â your mother announced it would be shared.
Satoru had, of course, embraced the attention, dragging you along with him to cut the massive cake. You had never seen anything like this before, and it might have shown on your face, because he had held your wrist tightly as if annoyed you were taking so long, and cut the cake with you. That was what made it impossible to shun the feelings of belongingness.
Now, the house was quiet, and the festivities had faded. But just as you were about to pull the covers over yourself, the faint sound of your door creaking open made you pause.
âHey,â Satoruâs voice whispered, followed by the soft padding of his feet. You turned your head to see him, still in the formal robes mother had fussed over earlier, though they were now slightly askew. His hair was a mess, his face flushed from excitement â or maybe all the sweets heâd devoured.
âShould you not knock?â you asked, folding your arms. You inwardly cringed at the noble accent you had unknowingly adopted from the Gojo family. âAnd what are you doing here?â
âEscaping,â he said, as if that explained everything. He plopped down without invitation beside you on the bed, leaning back on his hands and gazing at the ceiling. âMotherâs got the maids cleaning up. I was bored. Figured youâd be awake.â
You rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. âYouâre going to get us in trouble. Again.â
âWhatâs the point of having a birthday if you canât even cause some trouble now?â He shot you a grin, then leaned closer to the window. âLetâs go outside.â
âWhat? No.â âPlease, please, pretty please?â
âI am not letting my first birthday become my death day,â you scoffed at him. Taking one look at the pout on his face, which seemed to stretch all the way down to his neck, you sighed, and he knew he won. âFine. But weâre only looking outside.â
âWhat!? But whatâs the fun in that?â âThen go alone.â
He pouted again, but you merely looked away trying to shield yourself from his cuteness. Soon after though, Satoru relented. He slid the window open and climbed onto the ledge, grumbling for you to follow. You joined him, settling beside him as the smell of night air filled your room. The stars were brilliant tonight, like silver dust across an ink-black canvas.
âTheyâre so bright,â you murmured. âItâs almost⊠too much.â
Satoru snorted. âThatâs the problem with you. You overthink everything. Just look at them â theyâre pretty, thatâs all there is to it.â
You rolled your eyes again but couldnât suppress a small laugh. âFine. Theyâre beautiful. Happy now?â
âVery,â he said, grinning. Then he tilted his head, closing his eyes and mumbling something to himself. He opened his eyes, looking at you expectantly. âNow itâs your turn. Make a wish.â
âWhat?â You frowned.
âA wish! Like for your birthday. I know we already made some during the cake thing, but this oneâs private. Just for us.â
You hesitated, unsure of what to wish for, before finally closing your eyes. Satoru watched you intently as if trying to guess your wish, but when you opened your eyes again, he pretended to be fascinated by the sky.
âOh, done already? What did you wish for?â he asked after a moment.
âYou said it was private,â you shot back. âWhat did you wish for?â
âNot telling,â he replied smugly, crossing his arms. âWhat if you laugh?â
âWhy would I laugh?â you asked, raising an eyebrow.
âBecause youâre you.â âAnd youâre stupid.â
The two of you fell into another argument, but when it finally died down, it was followed by a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sound of distant crickets. Then, out of nowhere, Satoru blurted out, âDo you think the stars can hear us?â
âWhat?â You stared at him.
âThe stars,â he said seriously, pointing upward. âDo you think they grant wishes, like gods or something?â
âThatâs stupid,â you muttered, but you couldnât hide the faint curl of amusement on your lips. âTheyâre just balls of gas.â
âWell, maybe those gas balls are listening,â he said, sticking his tongue out. âYou donât know everything. Maybe they are hearing us right now.â
You opened your mouth to retort but froze. A memory seemed to resurfaceâŠ
âI still donât know why you decided to keep the child!â a deep voice was screeching at another, soft one.
âI donât know what came over me, I swear!ââIt is the spawn of Satan himself! I respect you for what you have been through, but it is time to dispose of her.â
âDispose? You donât meanââ
Large hands came your way to muffle the screams from your mouth.
Your fingers clenched the windowsill.
âThey didnât hear me before,â you said quietly, almost to yourself.
âWhat?â Satoru noticed the change in your tone, and turned to look at you, his brow furrowing. âWho? The balls?â
You shook your head quickly. âNever mind. Forget I said anything.â
But Satoru wasnât one to let things go. âHey,â he said softly. âYou can tell me. I mean, if you want.â
His sincerity made your chest tighten. Normally, after the word âballsâ, he would have made a bad joke about male anatomy. But he seemed to have read the room enough to shut up. You looked at him, his bright blue eyes watching you with genuine concern. For a moment, you thought about telling him. But then, the weight of it all felt too heavy to share. He was too young, too shielded from the horrors of the world to be able to handle any of it anyway.
âItâs nothing,â you muttered. âJust something dumb I used to believe.â
Satoru opened his mouth to argue, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he smiled gently and nudged your shoulder. âOkay. But if you ever want to talk about dumb things, Iâm here. You know, Iâm dumb, soâŠâ he tried making the joke you always did.
You didnât know how to respond to that, so you simply nodded. The two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, watching the stars. Finally, Satoru stretched and hopped down from the ledge.
âGoodnight,â he said, giving you a lopsided grin. âAnd happy birthday.â
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the warmth in his voice. âYou too,â you said softly.
As he closed the door as softly as he could behind him, you stared out at the stars, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they had started listening after all.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The sound of hooves clattering against the cobblestone path filled the air as the royal carriage swayed gently on its way to the prestigious School of Royalty. The morning sun cast a golden glow on the lush green fields outside, but inside, the atmosphere was both tense and excited.
âYou know,â Satoru began, leaning lazily against the plush velvet seat, âI heard thereâs a whole batch of new exchange students joining today. Rumor is, one of themâs from the Silver Crescent Kingdom. Ever seen anyone from there? Theyâre supposed to have that, uh⊠âethereal glow.â You think thatâs real, or just something people say?â
You barely glanced up from the notebook in your lap, furrowing your brows as you paused your incoherent babbling of equations. âIf you spent half as much time studying for the exam as you do gossiping, maybe you wouldnât need to cheat off me later.â
He smirked, unbothered. âCheat? Me? Iâm offended. Iâm just naturally brilliant.â
âAnd naturally annoying,â you muttered, flipping to another page of hastily scribbled notes.
Satoru ignored the jab, his grin widening. At fifteen, heâd grown into someone who couldnât step into a room without people swooning for his attention. You guessed it was just a Gojo thing he inherited from his mother. The girls adored him â some from afar, others more boldly (you still cringe remembering that one time a girl with a sorry excuse of a top was taken away by your guards for trying to get a kiss from him last year) â and the boys either envied or wanted to be him. The name âSatoru Gojoâ seemed to be whispered wherever he went, and he couldnât be happier.
You, on the other hand, had decided that the attention you receive at your house was enough to satisfy you for a lifetime, and you would rather spend your time learning something new â at least, thatâs what you told your mother; that you would rather cry over your grades than guys, to which Satoru had cleverly remarked, âWhy not both?â earning a glare from his mother. While you did have friends, and you did seem to be friendly with everyone around you, you would watch in dismay when most of these friends would recite their love stories, and you had nothing to share. The boys barely noticed you, too busy being gay over Satoru. But you had your books, your achievements, and the satisfaction of knowing you didnât need anyoneâs approval.
âAnd get this,â Satoru continued, his excitement growing. âI heard one of themâs some kind of prodigy. Like, they mastered advanced magic when they were ten. Can you imagine? Finally, someone who might be able to keep up with me. Theyâre a senior too, so I want to see the look on their face when they realize Iâm better than them.â
âMhm,â you replied distractedly, not bothering to look up. You were too busy with the definition of archaic spellcasting principles and the formulas for mana stabilization to muster a reply of more than a single syllable. The exam was in less than an hour, and the thought of failing even one question sent a jolt of anxiety through you.
Satoru leaned forward, peering at your notes upside down. âWhatâs that? Something about magic circles? Youâre still on those? I mastered those ages ago.â
You snapped your notebook shut and shot him a glare. âYou didnât âmasterâ anything. You just wing it and hope for the best.â
âHey, it works, doesnât it?â He shrugged. âBesides, youâll cover for me if I mess up. Thatâs what partners are for.â
âWeâre not partners.â
âSure we are,â he said breezily. âPartners in crime. Mischief-makers extraordinaire. The unbeatable duo.â He winked, and you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didnât fall out of your head.
The carriage hit a bump, causing you to clutch your notes tighter. Satoru, unfazed, lounged back in his seat and stared out of the window. âYou know, you should relax a little. Exams arenât life or death.â
âFor you, maybe. Some of us donât have a safety net made of charm and raw talent.â
He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. âWow, you really think Iâm charming and talented? Thanks, baby.â
You didnât dignify that dumb statement with a response. Instead, you turned your attention back to your notes, determined to make use of every second you had left.
The carriage began to slow, signaling their arrival at the school gates. Satoru straightened, his excitement palpable. âHere we go. Time to make an impression. Think the exchange students are going to swoon over me?â
âOnly if they have no taste,â you muttered, gathering your things.
He grinned, standing and offering you a hand as the carriage came to a stop. âCome on, donât be such a poopy.â
You cringed again before taking his hand, letting him help you down. The moment your feet touched the ground, the buzz of the school grounds surrounded you. Students swarmed the entrance, chattering excitedly about everything from the new arrivals to last-minute cramming for the exam.
Satoru strode ahead confidently, while you lingered a step behind, clutching your notes tightly. He glanced at you, running back to catch up with you. âWhereâs Kuro? Heâs supposed to be part of the dramatic entrance I had planned.â
âI sent him away. He was annoying me with the confetti.â âYouâ WHAT?â
You ignored him, continuing to walk up the stairs leading to your exam hall without looking up at anyone. Satoru jogged beside you.
âWe havenât met with any of the exchange students yet!â âSatoru, if you want to, then leave.â
He pouted, planting your face in front of yours above your notes. âYou know I wonât leave you.â
âThen stay quiet and let me study.â âAlright, alright,â he said, sighing. He stared at you for a few moments, pacing around the hall with you while you muttered curses under your breath. He smiled. You always hated this one subject but felt the need to excel in it anyway. âHey,â he said softly. âYouâll do great, you know.â
The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, but you masked it with a scoff. âYouâd better hope so. If I fail, youâll fail too.â
He laughed again, a sound as effortless as everything else about him. âThatâs true. Canât impress anyone with an F on the paper, can I?â The loud bell rang, and Satoru moved to cover your ears with the palms of his hands. âIâve got you covered, princess. In return, you must guarantee that I pass.â
You smiled a genuine smile at him, something you had gotten quite used to doing in the past four years you had spent with your new family. âI canât guarantee that. Letâs go, Iâm done now.â
His eyes widened comically, âWhat do you mean you canât guarantee that?â You laughed at him, and he snatched your notebook from your hands. âGive me that! Oh god. Iâm doomed, arenât I?â
âYup, letâs go now.â
The exam hall echoed with the sound of faint murmurs and the occasional nervous coughs. While theory had been nerve-wracking, at least you had been able to cram for it. But the practicals? They were a whole different beast. No amount of late-night revisions could prepare you for actual spellwork.
You clutched your wand tightly, its polished surface cold and smooth against your clammy palms. The examiner called your name, and your stomach flipped. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. What were the steps again? Swing your wand, say the words, and hope for the best.
You stood before the enchanted apparatus. It was a simple magical round glass that would respond to the accuracy of your spell, changing its colour accordingly. The orb pulsed softly, steams of gas floating stilly in its interior, waiting. You were supposed to transfigure a cactus into a goblet full of water. The room was silent, dozens of eyes boring into your back.Â
Why did they have to make everyone do the practicals individually, and on stage?
You closed your eyes briefly, mustering every ounce of focus. With a flick of your wand and the carefully practiced words spilling from your lips, you executed the spell. Wand still in the air, you waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened. Then, the orb glowed a brilliant gold.
âPerfect!â The elderly professor cried, clasping her hands together. She really liked you. âNext, please.â
Relief washed over you, and you felt a disbelieving smile creep onto your face. Scooting off the stage, you climbed down the stairs to your seat. You caught Satoruâs eye and mouthed, Good luck. He was slouching on his chair, winking at you and giving you a lazy thumbs-up.
Just as you sat down, you noticed your gaze didnât leave him. You kept looking at him, how effortlessly good he looked in his outfit, sunglasses perched languidly on his nose. He was looking straight ahead at the stage above, and you glanced at the front too. Shoko got a pale yellow glow from the orb, an easy B.
Your eyes wandered to the girl in line ahead of Satoru. You recognized her instantly, how could you not? Wavy chestnut hair that caught the light just so, impeccable posture, an air of confidence that bordered on smug, and her pink lips upright looking behind her. She was from one of the distant kingdomsâbrilliant in class, annoyingly charming, and unfortunately, quite pretty. And right now, she seemed pretty happy about being positioned so close to Satoru.
It was the way she was smiling at Satoru that irritated you. Not the polite, fleeting kind of smile youâd give a classmate. No, this was different. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curved in a way that made even you highly uncomfortable. You saw her fingers brush a strand of hair behind her ear â twice, because apparently once wasnât enough â and she leaned just a fraction closer to him.
You squinted. Was she flirting? She was flirting. Yuck. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but your jaw tightened. Getting up sneakily from your seat, you joined the crowd they stood with to spy on the two.
âI hear the examiners this year are super strict,â she said, her voice soft and lilting. âNot that you need to worry. Iâve seen you in dueling practice â youâre incredible,â she sighed at him dramatically, eyes turned to hearts.
Satoru blinked at her, then scratched the back of his neck. âUh, thanks? I guess?â
She laughed â too loud for a casual compliment. âYouâre so modest! Thatâs so rare, you know.â Her eyes sparkled as she stared up at him, clearly hoping heâd reciprocate the energy.
He didnât. âModest? Me?â Satoruâs tone was laced with genuine confusion, his brow furrowing slightly. âYou sure youâre talking about the right guy?â
You saw Geto, his best friend, stifle a laugh at that, but you didnât find any of this funny. Geto caught your eye and immediately stopped laughing, trying to inch closer to Satoru to warn him of your incoming wrath.
But the girl kept blocking his way.
âOh, absolutely,â she said smoothly, leaning in even closer. âI bet youâll get top marks, as always. You must have so many admirers.â
Your grip on your wand tightened. You might not be as violent as Satoru when it came to dueling, but you couldnât care less about that at the moment. Nor did you seem to notice the sheer number of students surrounding you.
Satoru, as usual, was utterly oblivious. âAdmirers? I sure hope so,â he said with a shrug. âBut thanks, I guess?â
You wanted to shake him. How could he not see what she was doing? The way her voice softened whenever she said his name, how her lashes fluttered just a bit too much when she looked at him â it was painfully obvious. And yet, Satoru treated her like he treated everyone else: polite, casual, and just detached enough to make it clear he wasnât interested.
âNext!â called the examiner, and the girlâs name echoed through the hall.
She turned to Satoru with a dazzling smile. âWish me luck?â
âUh, good luck?â he said, scratching his head.
You were half a second away from gagging, Geto slipping from beside Satoru to join you, both of you dissing the situation in hushed whispers.
As she walked away, you muttered under your breath, âUnbelievable.â
Geto muttered, equally frustrated, but this was pointed towards Satoru, âUnbelievable indeed.â
Your eyes followed the movements of her wand, and you tried to calculate the exact angle by which she tilted her wand too high, the length by which her hand movement went wrong and the distance between her wrist and the cactus assigned to her. Geto shook his head at your overly focused expression.
A loud pop filled the air, followed by startled squeaks. Your eyes widened. The examiners scrambled around, now very much turned into rats! The girl froze, her wand dangling uselessly at her side as laughter rippled through the room.
You bit your lip. What were you supposed to be feeling right now? Secondhand embarrassment or vindication? Serves her right, you thought, though a small part of you almost pitied her. Almost.
The headmaster, who had been watching the whole ordeal with an amused expression, quickly restored order, probably glad he wasnât turned into a mouse or something. He dismissed the rest of the students and awarded automatic Aâs to those who hadnât gone yet.
You groaned and Geto laughed at you, a grimacing Shoko dangling from his arm. Together, the three of you were about to leave the hall when Satoru caught up with you, grinning like heâd just won the lottery. âWild. Best exam ever. I didnât even have to do anything!â
You shot him a sideways glance, your mood souring again. âYeah, lucky you.â
âWait, are you mad?â he asked, peering at you. âYouâre mad. Why are you mad?â
âIâm not mad,â you said shortly, walking faster, waving goodbye to Geto, who was now left alone to deal with a hungry kitten, Shoko.
âYouâre definitely mad,â he teased, catching up. âWhat, is it because I got an A without lifting a finger? Donât worry, youâll get to cheat off my usual genius self next time. Maybe youâll even get an A+++++++ because of me⊠or whatever the highest grade is.â
âRight,â you said, rolling your eyes. âYouâre so modest,â you mimicked the girl from earlier, but he didnât get the reference.
At break, you sat under the shade of a tree, quietly eating your snack and watching the courtyard buzz with post-exam chatter. Across the lawn, the girl was crying into her boyfriendâs shoulder, her wails loud enough to carry. You frowned, unsure whether to feel sorry for or annoyed at her.
Her boyfriend, a tall, broad-shouldered guy from her kingdom, seemed to be comforting her, rubbing her back and murmuring reassurances. Weird, you thought. He doesnât even know heâs worse than Satoru in her eyes.
The suspension had been swift: four months for reckless and dangerous spellcasting. Watching her now, you couldnât muster much sympathy. It was one thing to fail; it was another to fail so dramatically. Itâs what she deserves.
Satoru plopped down beside you, unwrapping a burger heâd somehow acquired (probably chased after Shoko to steal her food). âHey, isnât that, uh... Britney? No, wait, Bridget? Or... Burger?â
You raised an eyebrow. âBurger?â
âYeah, burger,â he said, taking a huge bite and gesturing vaguely in her direction. âSheâs got layers, yâknow? Like a burger.â
âYouâre ridiculous,â you said, shaking your head.
âCâmon, you gotta admit itâs funny,â he said, his grin widening. âShe tries to turn on the charm, and bam! Instant ratification.â
You groaned at the pun, but laughter bubbled up anyway. Satoruâs dumb humor always had a way of disarming you.
âHeyyyyyyyy!â A voice dragged out, and you were met with a flash of dark blue hair before you were hugged tightly. âI heard your exam went great, but then, of course it did.â She patted your head. âWell done.â
âThanks, Utahime.â
âNo need to thank me,â Utahime pulled out your favourite chips from her bag and handed them to you.
âHey, nothing for me?â Satoru wailed.
âWho the fuck are you?â âRude.â
She ignored him and turned back to you. âAnyway, did you see any of the new exchange students? Theyâre good-looking.â
âSo?â You munched on your chips.
âSo,â she said loudly, shooing Satoru off to sit in his place next to you, âwe can finally get you a boyfriend.â
Satoru snorted. âBoyfriend? Why does she need a boyfriend?â
âAnd,â she stepped on his foot with her heel and he skipped away across the courtyard, foot in his hand and muttering curses under his breath. âThereâs that prodigy guy. You two could have been academic rivals if he was in your grade. Ugh, this is so annoying. Couldnât he repeat a few classes? Dumbass.â
âUh, Iâm not interesââ âYes, you are,â she looked at you with a wide, crazy smile as if daring you to disagree, and you gulped.âNo wasting time watching couples break up,â she pointed at the girl in front of you, whose boyfriend seemed to have heard of the real reason she messed up her spell. Utahime lifted you by one arm and practically flew the yards to reach the main hall, where your assembly would take place to welcome the exchange students.
The assembly hall buzzed with anticipation, the crowd of students shifting restlessly as they filled the rows of wooden benches. Your arm still ached from Utahime dragging you all the way here. You, on the other hand, couldnât help but feel drainedâphysically and emotionally.
The morningâs drama was still fresh in your mind, particularly the girlâs humiliating display. The idea of someone so brazenly cozying up to Satoru still gnawed at you. And now, you had to sit through an assembly to greet some mysterious prodigies who probably thought they were better than everyone else. Perfect.
âSit here,â Utahime ordered, pointing to a spot near the front. âI need a good view.â
âOf what?â you asked, dropping onto the bench with a huff.
âDuh, the new guys. Maybe one of them will be your destined academic rival-slash-love interest,â she said dramatically, clasping her hands like a cheesy romance novel heroine.
You rolled your eyes. âIâm fine without one, thanks.â
âOh, donât be boring,â she said, plopping down beside you. âYou need some excitement in your life. Besides, I heard some of the new guys are supposed to be really good-looking,â she whispered, leaning in as if discussing a conspiracy theory involving the Monarchy of Mars. âLike, model good-looking.â
You let out a noncommittal hum, tracing the edge of the seat in front of you with a finger. Utahime nudged you. âDonât you care? Come on, arenât you curious?â
âNot really,â you lied.
Utahime rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. âSure, sure. But if someone walks in here looking like a movie star, donât say I didnât warn you.â
Your gaze wandered to the double doors at the front of the hall, where the new students were supposed to enter. You didnât care much about the guys. But what if there were girls? Pretty girls. The kind with perfect skin and perfect hair and that effortless grace you always seemed to lack.
Your stomach churned. Why were you even thinking about that?
You glanced at Utahime, still chattering away about rumors sheâd heard excitedly. She was bouncing slightly in her seat, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk. But you couldnât shake the thought â what if everyone thought the other girls were prettier? You could almost smell the break up stories your dozen friends would fetch for you because the new girls seemed hotter to the dung-nosed guys of your school.
âFor the next few months, I will be stuck amidst boy troubles,â you muttered, glancing across the hall. Satoru had finally joined the crowd, sauntering in late as usual. He spotted you almost immediately and shot you a wink before sliding into a seat with Geto and Shoko.
Your stomach did an involuntary flip, but you shoved the feeling down. He was just being Satoru like always. Thatâs all it was.
Right?
The headmasterâs booming voice filled the hall. âWelcome, students, to this yearâs exchange program orientation!â
The crowd settled as the headmaster launched into a long-winded speech about tradition, excellence, and the importance of collaboration between kingdoms. You zoned out almost immediately, your eyes drifting back to Satoru.
He was whispering something to Geto, who smirked and nudged him in the ribs. Shoko looked utterly disinterested, flipping through a medical journal sheâd smuggled in. Typical.
You pulled your eyes away from them. The last time you had zoned out in class because of him, your mood had been soured for the whole following hour. The sound of applause gave you an excuse out of your reverie. The exchange students were being introduced now, stepping onto the stage one by one. They were all polished, confident, and, admittedly, quite impressive.
Utahime elbowed you sharply. âLook at that one!â she hissed, nodding toward a tall boy with striking blond hair and piercing brown eyes.
You blinked. âLooks like he walked out of a painting.â
âExactly,â she said, smirking. âHeâs perfect for you.â
You groaned. âCan we not do this right now?â
Utahime ignored you entirely, listing off reasons why heâd make a great boyfriend: âSmart, handsome, probably good at magicââ
âDefinitely better at cactus transfiguration,â you muttered, earning a snort of laughter from her.
Meanwhile, Satoru had twisted around in his seat, craning his neck to see what the commotion was about. When his eyes landed on you and Utahime, his expression soured slightly. He didnât like being left out, and it was written all over his face.
âWhoâs better at cactus transfiguration?â He suddenly appeared behind you.
âNone of your business,â Utahime shot back, sticking her tongue out.
âWow, mature,â Satoru deadpanned.
The assembly droned on, with each exchange student introducing themselves in turn. You tried to pay attention, really, but your mind kept wandering. Utahimeâs ridiculous matchmaking schemes. Satoruâs infuriatingly perfect smile. The girlâs earlier meltdown. It was all swirling together into a chaotic mess of emotions you didnât have the energy to untangle.
Finally, the headmaster wrapped up his speech with a flourish. âLetâs give our guests a warm welcome!â he declared, prompting another round of applause.
As the crowd began to disperse, Utahime grabbed your arm again. âCome on, letâs go talk to him!â
âTo who?â you asked, bewildered. âThe blond-haired guy, obviously!â
âAbsolutely not,â you said, digging your heels into the ground.
But before you could argue further, a familiar voice interrupted.
âLeaving without saying hi? Rude.â
You turned to find Satoru standing behind you still, his trademark grin firmly in place.
Utahime groaned. âGo away, Gojo.â
âCanât. Iâm here to rescue my friend from your matchmaking madness,â he said, draping an arm over your shoulder.
You tried to shrug him off, but he held on tight, his presence annoyingly comforting.
âWhy do you care?â Utahime shot back.
Satoruâs grin widened, but his tone was surprisingly serious. âBecause she doesnât need some random guy when sheâs got me.â
He tugged you away, leaving Utahime fuming in his wake.
âThanks for the save,â you mumbled once you were out of earshot.
âAnytime,â Satoru said lightly, though there was an edge to his voice you couldnât quite place. âAnd besides, didnât want you to end up with an annoying motherââ
You raised an eyebrow at him. Did he forget he was in a royal school where all the students and teachers were high-class nobles and the mere mention of vocabulary outside of the poshed-up ones exclusively for the rich would make him an infamous wreck in everyoneâs eyes?
He caught your eye and continued, ââtrucker.â
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The dining table was as extravagant as ever, its polished surface reflecting the golden glow of the chandelier overhead. Plates were neatly arranged, and bowls of steaming food were placed in a perfect line down the centre. Mother sat at the head of the table, her posture so upright it made your back ache just looking at her. Across from her sat Father, whose stern expression was an almost permanent fixture at meals.
You occupied your usual spot, tucked between Satoru and his mother, a position that felt both safe and stifling. Satoru, of course, lounged in his chair as if it were a throne, pushing peas around his plate with one chopstick, clearly uninterested in the discussion at hand. It was peaceful and calm. But as soon as Satoruâs father set down his chopsticks, you knew this tranquillity wouldnât last.
âSatoru,â his father began.
Satoru didnât even look up, lazily poking at his food. âUh oh. Here we go.â
âDonât start,â his mother said sharply, and Satoru sighed dramatically, dropping his chopsticks like they were too heavy to hold.
âFine. What is it this time? Did someone see me napping in class? Because, for the record, I was listening with my eyes closed.â
âYour instructor tells me your theoretical scores are excellent, as expected,â Satoruâs mother began, her sharp gaze sweeping across the table to land on him. âBut your duel with Suguru during last weekâs practice was... undisciplined.â
Satoru shrugged, not bothering to look up. âItâs not my fault Suguru got cocky.â
His fatherâs goblet hit the plate with a sharp clink. âAnd whose fault is it that you refuse to follow proper form? Youâre not dueling for fun, Satoru. These exercises are meant to sharpen your skills for real combat.â
You could feel the tension grow, so you instinctively focused on the rice in your bowl. Satoru, however, leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.
âReal combat isnât about sticking to the rulebook,â he said lazily, resting an arm on the back of your chair. âItâs about adaptability.â
âThat is not an excuse to showboat,â his mother snapped. âYou might think youâre untouchable, but arrogance will get you killed one day.â
For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes â irritation, maybe, or defiance â but he masked it with a grin. âNot likely.â
âOnly because youâre naturally talented,â his mother interjected coldly. âTalent will only carry you so far, Satoru. You lack discipline, respect, andââ
âManners,â his father finished, glaring at him.
His mother pinched the bridge of her nose. âAll weâre trying to make you understand is, this isnât a joke, Satoru. Youâre supposed to be the strongest, and yet youâre constantly underperforming. Meanwhile, look at her.â She gestured to you, and your heart sank.
âOh no,â you muttered under your breath.
âLook at her,â his mother repeated. âTop marks in every subject, excellent dueling reports, and the teachers canât stop praising. Why canât you be more like her?â
Satoru threw up his hands. âBecause sheâs a robot! Have you seen her handwriting? Itâs terrifying!â
âI just have neat handwriting,â you mumbled defensively.
âNeat? Itâs like a calligraphy competition on every page,â Satoru said, jabbing a chopstick at you. âShe probably practices writing spells for fun.â
âSheâs perfect,â his father said firmly, as if it were an unshakable fact of the universe.
âExactly my point!â Satoru exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. âHow am I supposed to compete with that?!â
âYouâve been doing wonderfully,â his mother interrupted warmly, and you almost choked on your water. She reached to kiss your forehead and you felt fuzzy all over.
âReally?â you said hopefully.
âYes,â his father agreed, nodding. âWeâre very impressed with your progress. And your last dueling performance was flawless. Keep it up.â
Satoruâs jaw dropped. âWhat? Thatâs it? No lecture about being even better? No existential guilt trip?â
âShe doesnât need one,â his mother said simply.
âSheâs already self-motivated,â his father added.
Satoru gawked at them, then at you. âWait, are you seriously not going to roast her? Not even a little?â
His mother held up a hand to silence the banter. âEnough. Weâre not here to discuss her. Weâre here to discuss you and your inability to take anything seriously.â
âI take plenty of things seriously!â Satoru protested.
âName one,â his father challenged.
Satoru opened his mouth, paused, then pointed to you. âHer.â
You nearly choked on your rice. âWhat?!â
âSee? I take her academic success very seriously,â he continued smoothly. âSheâs basically my tutor at this point. Without her, Iâd probably be failing food transfiguration.â
âFood transfiguration is not the metric for success,â his father said dryly, but his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh.
âAnd yet, itâs a class!â Satoru shot back. âA class I pass, thanks to her.â
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. âPlease stop talking.â
âNever,â Satoru said cheerfully, ruffling your hair like you were a pet.
The room went silent for a beat, and then his father muttered, âPass the rice.â
You couldnât help but snort, quickly covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. Satoruâs grin widened, clearly taking your reaction as a victory.
âIâm serious about the food transfiguration, though,â he whispered to you as the conversation shifted. âYou saved me from flunking that one.â
âBy telling you to stop turning the chicken into a dinosaur?â you whispered back, rolling your eyes.
âExactly. Genius advice.â Satoru sighed, slumping dramatically. "I swear, if I werenât so charming, Iâd be useless."
âYou are,â you replied, teasing him with a grin.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The foreign exchange students filed into the classroom. You hadnât met any of them yet, but the instant you saw a giggling pack of girls, dressed in a way that clearly screamed âIâm a tourist, please give me attention,â take seats scattered around the room, you knew this would be a long class. They were chatting loudly, condescending smiles on their faces and prissy postures to back it up. One of them locked eyes with you and stood up.
The girl scanned the room, perhaps trying to find something to shift the attention of the bustling and noisy class to her. Sitting beside you, Geto didnât even flinch as the girl cleared her throat loudly. You could feel it. She was about to open her mouth.
And open it she did.
âDo you guys feel,â she addressed her fellow exchange people, âthat the culture here is a bit⊠Well, I donât know what you'd call it. Primitive, I guess? Itâs like they just dug it up from some ancient ruins," she said, waving a hand dismissively, as if she were talking about a dusty artefact. âThis wholeâ uhmâ âhonourâ thing? So outdated. I didnât find any such codes on how to behave in the culture of the South, or the West, or the South-West. Maybe it is because the people here still need to be taught manners, I suppose.â
The other students, contrary to what she had hoped, didnât pay any attention to her. They didnât seem to have heard her, because if they had⊠well, all of them were from noble clans, of course they would have a problem with it.
The girl didnât seem to notice. Or care.
âYou there!â She screeched at you, coming to a halt in front of your desk after pacing around like she was delivering an important lecture. âI heard youâre the top student. Representative, or something, they told me. Likeââ she turned to face you more directly, suddenly noticing the lack of a surname on your badge ââwow, you donât even have a last name. I heard you were from the Gojo clan. But, I mean, you donât even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch or something?â
You flushed. Most of the students were tactful enough to not point that out to you, and if they did, they would return with a bruise soon after, credit to Satoru. But Satoru was in the hospital wing right now, and thankfully so, because you didnât want him making a scene here in the middle of your Charms class. Getoâs fingers brushed lightly against your arm; he was trying to calm you down. He didnât need to say anything; you already knew what he was thinking.
Shoko, sitting in front of you, shifted in her seat. Her fingers twitched toward her coat pocket, and you could swear you felt a chill run down your spine at the look she had on her face. Shokoâs glare was murderous, and her hand slowly moved to her doctorâs tools â just a few inches away from hurling them at the girlâs smug face.
âDonât bother,â Geto murmured under his breath. âLet her go on. Sheâs not worth the energy.â His eyes never left you as he spoke, a detached smile tugging at the corners of his lips. âIgnore her, Shoko.â
The girl leaned on your desk as you continued to determinedly stare at a spot on your notebook
âOh, but wait,â she continued haughtily, âyou mustâve been a mistake. I mean, the Gojo clan leaders, right? They couldnât possibly have any sense of judgement, could they? Considering who their son is, who heâs raised by. They probably just took in anyone, huh? Just to fill the numbers. I bet they didnât even care to see if you had any real worth.â
âYou donât know what youâre talking about,â Geto interrupted her calmly, his smile widening, a maddenned look in his eyes. âIf you donât stop right now, you might have to deal with a curse or two, because Iâm not exactly one to be afraid of duelling in front of teachers.â
Alina was unfazed, leaning back in her chair with a smirk plastered across her face. âOh, I so do. You canât silence me. The Gojo clan is only famous because they have money and influence â nothing more.â She leaned forward again, her eyes narrowing. âAnd the leaders? Theyâre a joke. All that power, and they still let their precious son â whatâs his name? Satoru? âplay around like the child he is. Tell me, do you ever wonder if heâs actually good for anything besides being the âchosen one?â Or is it just another piece of their precious familyâs empire?â
No.
That was it.
You snapped. Your body moved before your brain could catch up. Pulling out your wand from your pocket, you let the cold tip touch her throat. The girl immediately shut up, caught off guard and not having the time to reach her own wand, which was kept on the table her friends were sitting at.
âWhatâs wrong? Canât speak? Iâd love to hear more from that croak of a voice you possess. Please, go on with your pathetic guesses about my lineage.â
âDonât,â Geto warned, but you were too blinded by the ringing echo of her words about your family. Shoko was already gripping the side of her desk, looking like she wanted to step in.
âYou want me to speak more?â The girl said. âI can speak more. Because I know what you are. I would have felt sorry for you if you werenât so stuck up though. As they say, no power, no future.â
Before you could retort, or even say a quick charm to freeze her throat so it snapped in half, the door flew open, and a voice interrupted your anger.
"Both of you, in my office. Now."
It was the teacher, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, clearly fed up. Without missing a beat, you spun on your heel, flicking a glance at Geto and Shoko.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
It was oddly quiet in the headmasterâs office. You sat alone at the desk, gloves pulled snug over your hands, a rag in one and a half-polished trophy in the other. The cleaning did little to distract you from the frustration you felt.
The headmasterâs words still rang in your ears: âDetention builds character, and perhaps a lesson in self-control will serve you well.â
Self-control. As if it was your fault someone had insulted your family.
The soft creak of the door interrupted your thoughts. You stilled, expecting the headmaster to return and scold you for slacking off. Instead, a familiar white head of hair peeked around the doorframe.
"What theâ" you hissed. "Are you insane? If someone catches you hereâ"
âWow. You, of all people, getting detention?â
Satoru leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk on his face.
âWhat are you doing here?â you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.
âCame to pick you up,â he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. âKuro was freaking out because he didnât know why we werenât at the gates, so I told him to head home without us.â
âYou didnât have toââ
âRelax. Heâs used to me pulling stuff like this.â Satoru strolled into the room, glancing around with mild interest before his eyes landed on the pile of trophies waiting to be polished. âSo... whatâs the story? Did you finally snap and hex someone?â
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the trophy in front of you. âShouldnât you be hiding somewhere? I mean, youâre not supposed to be here after school.â
âOh, Iâm cutting it. I figured detention with you would be more fun.â
You ignored him, hoping heâd get bored and leave, but Satoru was never one to take a hint. He perched on the edge of the desk beside you.
âCome on,â he said, nudging your arm lightly. âTell me what happened.â
You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to look at him. âNothing. Just... a disagreement.â
âA disagreement?â he repeated, raising an eyebrow. âThatâs all youâre giving me?â
You stayed silent, scrubbing furiously at a nonexistent smudge on the trophy. But your hands were shaking slightly, and he noticed.
His teasing expression softened. âHey,â he said quietly, leaning closer and nuzzling your hair. âWhatâs wrong?â
âNothingâs wrong,â you said quickly, but the crack in your voice betrayed you. You cursed under your breath, setting the trophy down harder than you intended.
âRight,â Satoru said dryly. âYou know lying is a sin, right?â
Before you could stop him, he reached out and plucked the rag from your hand. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a firm look.
âEnough,â he said, tossing the rag onto the desk. He grabbed your hands, tugging the gloves off gently, his touch warm and steady against your cold fingers.
âSatoru, what are youââ
âHelping,â he said simply.
You stared at him, your breath hitching slightly as he held your hands in his. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles.
âYou shouldnât have done it,â he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. âGotten detention, I mean.â
Your throat tightened, and you looked away. âI didnât even do much. I just threatened her, âs allââ
âI know,â he said. âBut you didnât have to stand up for me like that.â
âYes, I did.â The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didnât care. âShe had no right to talk about your family like that. Or mine,â you added quietly.
Satoruâs expression softened, and he sighed, letting go of your hands only to pull you into a hug. Your breath stopped. It was so sudden and unexpected, but his arms around you were so warm and secure, and for a moment, you forgot just how cold the office was.
âThank you,â he murmured against your hair. âFor putting us first.â
You swallowed hard, your face pressed against his shoulder. You could feel his heartbeat. His vanilla scent filled your nostrils, and you couldnât help but sigh at the sensation.
Just what were you feeling?
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. The gesture was so gentle, so unexpected, that it sent a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps prickled along your arms, and your breath caught in your throat. Eyes widening on his chest.
Satoru pulled back slightly, his hands still resting lightly on your shoulders. He studied your face for a moment, his gaze searching, before giving you a small, crooked smile.
âAlright there?â he asked softly.
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. His smile widened, and he gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze before stepping back.
âGood,â he said, picking up your gloves and the rag you had abandoned. âBecause I think itâs my turn to polish these things. Youâve done enough.â
You blinked at him, confused. âYou canât justââ
âToo late.â He waved the rag dramatically, grinning. âGo sit down and relax. Perfect students need to take a break to be imperfect once in a while.â
Despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âYeah, yeah.â He waved you off, already humming to himself as he began scrubbing.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
You sat with your detention homework in your garden after the headmaster had insisted on giving you some more âpunishmentsâ for letting Satoru in his office. On the stone bench, you glared at the crumpled detention slip in your hands. The words from earlier still rang in your ears.
Wow, you donât even have a last name. I heard you were from the Gojo clan. But, I mean, you donât even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch or something?
You must've been a mistake
The nerve of that girl, whatever her name was. She had no right to talk like that. But as much as you hated to admit it, her words dug deep. Why didnât you have the surname? Why were you even here?
You sighed, staring down at your hands, throwing the slip away and watching it skid between bushes. The gate creaked, pulling you from your thoughts. Satoruâs mother stepped into the garden. She always seemed to know when something was wrong.
She smiled warmly as she approached. âTrouble at school?â
You let out a small huff, tossing the detention homework onto the bench. âSome girl decided to remind me I donât belong here,â you muttered. âSheâs not wrong. I mean, I donât even have your family name. Iâm just... here.â
Her expression softened, and she sat down beside you. âSuguru told me it was someone from the Kamo clan. She said that, did she?â
You nodded. âShe made it sound like Iâm just some random stray you all picked up out of pity.â
A shadow flickered across her face, but she stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. Then she sighed softly and folded her hands neatly in her lap. âYou donât carry the Gojo surname yet because... you arenât meant to. One day, you will.â
You were confused. âOne day? What are you talking about?â
Her gaze softened further, and she reached for your hand. âYouâre not here because of pity. Youâre here because I care for you deeply. Youâre family to me. And... well, youâre engaged, my dear. To Satoru.â
The words hit you like a thunderclap. âEngaged?â you whispered.
She nodded gently. âIt was my decision. Not to strengthen ties or fulfill some tradition â I couldnât bear the thought of marrying you off to anyone else. Youâre important to me, and to this family. No one else would cherish you the way you deserve. No one else would love you the way I know he can.â
Your head was spinning. Engaged? To Satoru? The same Satoru who stole your dessert, teased you relentlessly, and drove you up the wall with his arrogance?
âDoes he know?â you managed to ask.
A small, amused smile tugged at her lips. âNot yet. Iâm waiting for the right time to tell him. You know how he is â heâd probably react with some ridiculous joke or dismiss it entirely without thinking it through.â
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. âYou mean Iâm supposed to sit on this bombshell while heâs running around like an overgrown child?â
She chuckled softly, reaching over to pat your shoulder. âItâs not so bad. Youâve already grown close to him, havenât you?â
Close. You couldnât deny it. In the past few years, you had gone from tolerating his antics to â well, something. The butterflies in your stomach betrayed you every time he smiled or stood too close.
But this? This was too much.
âWhy didnât you tell me sooner?â you asked weakly, peeking through your fingers.
âI wanted you to have time to figure out your feelings without the weight of this hanging over you,â she admitted. âAnd... I wasnât entirely sure when youâd be ready to hear it. But seeing you upset, questioning your place here, I couldnât keep it from you any longer. Forgive me, darling.â She stood then. âYouâre exactly where youâre meant to be,â she said gently. âNever let anyone make you doubt that.â
And with that, she disappeared back into the house, leaving you alone with the truth.
Engaged. To Satoru.
The butterflies in your stomach werenât just fluttering nowâthey were staging a full-on rebellion. You let out a groan, slumping back against the bench.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
Over a year had passed. The two of you were turning seventeen the next year, and with the increase in your age, the load of schoolwork increased too. The School of Royalty had seen so many changes. They were rebuilding the duelling grounds and organising even more clubs than before. Girls were mysteriously beginning to drop out of school, and you didnât want to know why. There were less than ten girls in your class of fifty, and you figured this number would reduce even more as women in nobility were hurriedly married off to distant kingdoms, forced to give up their education to serve as a showpiece for the men to flaunt.
You were thankful the Gojo clan saw you as more than that, or you wouldnât have been in the same class as your friends this year. You couldnât bear not seeing Utahime, Shoko, Suguru and of course, Satoru.
Satoru.
The one you had realized you didnât want if he wasnât looking at you at all times, if he wasnât talking to you at all times, or cracking jokes to you at all times. The one you had realized you wanted more of, more than what the two of you are now, more than what you two have ever been, more than friends, more than best friends; you wanted him more than anything in the world. Him, him, him, him. You wanted his eyes on you, his hands on you. You wanted everything about him. Everything. Every single thingâ
âHey, you alive?â His voice snapped you back to reality.
âHuh? Oh yeah.â
âI was saying,â he pulled a girl towards him by her hands and she landed on his chest with a dull thump. âThis is Alina.â
You stared at her. Triumphant looking face, lips giggling into the broad layer of his front.
Wait.Wasnât sheâ?
âYou might remember her,â Satoru pressed. You did. Vividly.
Oh.
âShe needs some duelling practice apparently, so sheâs gonna be watching us from there,â he points at the stands. âHope you donât mind.â
âOh, yeah, itâs okay,â you said in a voice you didnât know you owned. The words felt so heavy on your tongue, as if it was an entirely different person speaking them.Â
âGreat, thanks,â he ushered the girl back to the stands and leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead again. You blinked.
Oh, no, he didnât see it like that at all.To him, it was just a gesture he had grown used to doing. Yeah.
You stood across from him on the training field, your stance ready and tense. The sunlight was bright today, almost too bright, and you didnât know if it was the heat or the sudden emptiness you felt. Satoru smiled at you, but it didnât quite reach his eyes.
âYou ready?â he asked, voice nonchalant. It wasnât the usual teasing edge. The spark was missing.
You nodded.
âIâve got you today, Gojo,â you tried making the dumb jokes he used to make. You werenât sure if it was working, but you tried anyway.
The sparring session started, but something felt wrong. Satoruâs movements were slower than usual, his focus elsewhere. He kept glancing at the stands from time to time, as if trying to see if she was watching him. He didnât block your attack in time, letting you knock him down with ease.
âYou alright?â You bent down to help him up, but he just waved you off, a tight smile on his face.
âYeah, yeah. Just⊠tired, I guess,â he shrugged, avoiding your eyes.
Alina came running down the stands, her hands clutched on her chest, fussing over him while he waved her off too, getting up.
âAnother one?â âNo, thank you.â
That was the first time you had ever said no to him.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
Later that week, you walked into the cafeteria, hoping to find Utahime and grab a quick meal before your History class. You were halfway into the queue before you realized Utahime had Charms class right now. After all, she was a senior of yours; she would have more schoolwork than you. So you were about to take the tray you got to one of the empty tables alone, hoping to find someone else.
And you did find someone. Satoru sat across from Alina as comfortable as ever. They looked like they were on a date. Was this why he had skipped a class he had with you?
âOh, hey,â he greeted you when you approached, but his voice lacked its usual warmth. There was a coolness in it, like he wasnât really there.
The girlâs voice broke into the silence, bright and too eager. âI was just telling Satoru about how Iâm finally starting to get the hang of wand control now. I know heâs been busy with other stuff, but heâs still managed to help me out.â
You felt the hairs on your neck prickle.
âThat's great,â you said, keeping your tone neutral. âI'm sure Satoru is happy to help.â
You tried to keep your expression even as you sat down on their table. Wrong choice. Satoru, oblivious or indifferent, didnât seem to notice any sort of tension in the air. He smiled, nodding along to whatever the girl was saying, while you forced a smile and picked at your food.
You felt like an outsider.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
That same week, after a banquet of the noble families held at the Gojo clanâs immaculate residence, you were walking alone towards the girlsâ dorms when you overheard two voices seemingly arguing calmly. You pressed an ear onto the door hiding the people.
âYou donât seem to realize your Alina is the same girl who was insulting your own family,â Suguru was saying. âShe got us into trouble too. You werenât there so you donât know how bad she talked aboutââ
âI know sheâs not like how she was before,â Satoru interrupted loudly. âAnd I know you guys still have a problem with her, but youâve got to trust me, okay? Sheâs changed.â
Your heart sank. âChanged?â Suguru repeated bitterly. âReally? After everything she said about the Gojo clan?â
He didnât reply right away, but when he finally spoke, it was with that soft, almost apologetic tone.
âI get it. I really do. But sheâs⊠trying, okay? Sheâs not the same person.â
You clenched your jaw, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. You felt numb all over. Uprooting one leg from your position, you walked backwards, away from your heartbreak.
âI donât know if I can believe that, Satoru. Not after everything she did.â âI know, but please. Try, for me?â
Your back hit the pillar and you stopped. Slowly lifting feet one after the other, you walked. You didnât know where you were walking to, but you just walked. You didnât know what hurt more: the fact that he was asking you to trust her, or the fact that you wanted to â because you trusted him so much.
âThere you are!â Utahime caught up to you. âWhere did you go? How can you get lost in your own houseââ You lifted your face up to her, and she looked taken aback. She inhaled, wiping tears you never realized started falling after stinging your eyes so bad, and she asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice. âBaby, whatâs wrong?â
âUtahimeââ your voice broke.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
You were walking down the school halls, your mind preoccupied with your own thoughts as you made your way to the classroom. The noise of chatter and the shuffle of students faded into the background, making you realize you were starting to zone out again. You seemed to do that a lot these days.
âAnd I just know it will be you!â Alinaâs voice cut through, syrupy, too sweet to be sincere. You froze, stopping behind a pillar. They were standing conveniently near the same path you had to cross to get to your class. Great. Now you had to bite back any snide remarks you had because poor Satoru would be upset if you didnât.
You peeked out. Alina was leaning against the wall, her laughter light and airy as she spoke to Satoru, who was right beside her, looking at her with that familiar, careless smile he used to reserve for you, one that you had now grown to hate.
You could hear her complimenting him, the way she laughed too loudly at every word of his. âOh, Satoru, your technique today was amazing, as always! I honestly donât know just how you do it.â Her tone was sugary, and you cringed. You wanted to look away, but something held you in place, as if some invisible force was gripping you to that spot, making you watch the scene in front of you with red eyes and darkness underneath them.
Then you heard his voice. âCome on, Alina, youâre making me blush,â he chuckled playfully. He was oblivious, as usual (or maybe he wasnât, and he truly trusted this woman more than his friends). But you werenât. You noticed how her hands lingered on his arm a little too long, how her fingers curled around his sleeve possessively.
You couldnât breathe.
You turned, hoping to slip past unnoticed, but of course, she caught sight of you. There was a flicker of something dark in her eyes before she forced a smile onto her face, calling out in that voice that made your skin crawl.
âOh, hey!â she chirped, calling out your name. âYou donât mind sharing, do you?â
The words hit you like a slap. You were caught between disbelief and anger. How dare she speak to you like that? You glanced at Satoru, hoping he would interject, but he didnât. He was too busy focusing his attention on her like a complete idiot.
You looked down at the floor, clenching your teeth. âYou can have him,â you muttered. You didnât want to show her how much it hurt, but it was all too clear in your voice and actions.
Alinaâs smile faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing. âOh, are you sure?â she said, âIâm sure Satoru wouldnât mind at all. Heâs such a generous guy.â
You could hear her subtle challenge, the way she was almost daring you to react. But you didnât give her the satisfaction. Instead, you straightened up, forcing the words out with a calmness you didnât feel.
âIâm sure,â you said simply. Not waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked away as quickly as you could, your heart pounding in your chest.
Behind you, you could feel her eyes on your back, but you refused to turn around.
You hated her. You hated the way she acted so confident. You hated how she was so entitled. And you hated how Satoru, in all his charm and glory, refused to hear a word against her; how he couldnât see the way she was trying to wedge herself between not only the two of you but also your entire friend group.
It was always this way, wasnât it? The more you wanted him, the farther he seemed to slip out of reach.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
After a three hour long soak in your bathtub, you decided it was time to go back into your room without anyone noticing. You spent most of your time hiding away from everyone; your parents, your servants, and him anyway, so you doubted anyone would miss you. With a sigh, you wore your nightdress and pushed your bedroom door open.
Satoru was sitting on your bed, his chin in his palms as he stared at the floor, clearly deep in thought and waiting for you to return. The moment you walked in, his gaze snapped to you, and the tension in the room tripled.
âYouâre back,â he said. There was something in his voice â you couldnât point out what exactly it was, but you didnât like how it made you feel.
âWhat are you doing in my room?â The words came out harsher than you had intended them to be.
He didnât answer right away; just sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face before standing up and facing you fully. âWhy are you always so mean to her?â His voice was quieter now, more frustrated than usual.
You blinked, taken aback. "Mean to whom?" you asked, trying to play dumb.
âAlina,â he said. âWhy do you always treat her like that?â
You controlled the urge to roll your eyes, though you knew Satoru expected you to. You wanted to scream, but you held it back, just barely. âOh, you mean the girl whoâs been constantly hovering around you? The one who acts like she owns you?â You crossed your arms defensively. âSorry, I didnât realize I was supposed to cheer her on and clap for every little thing she does.â
Satoru scoffed, taking his face in his hands before looking up again. âYou donât have to be so cold all the time! Canât you just try to get along with her? Sheâs changed. Why canât you just see that?â
âChanged?â You couldnât stop yourself from laughing at his innocence. âSheâs the same girl who insulted your family. She insulted everything you stand for, everything you care about, and you think sheâs changed? Are you seriously that blind?â
His eyes darkened, and he gritted his teeth. âYouâre always so hung up on the past! Why canât you just move on?â
You shot him a look, disbelief swirling in your chest. âMove on?â Your voice was shaking with the effort of holding back everything you wanted to say. âWhy is it that youâre the only person who sees that she has changed? Why is it that everyone else around you swears she hasnât?â
Satoru didnât respond right away. Then, he took a deep breath in, as if it was taking every bone in his body to control his emotions to hit you at that very moment. âWhy do you care so much? Why canât you just give her a chance?â he asked, almost pleading with you.
You stared at him for a moment too long. âBecause,â you bit back, âSheâs using you. And youâre too caught up in your own world to even see it.â
He took a step toward you, voice rising now. âThatâs not true! Sheâs not using me! Sheââ
You threw your hands up in frustration. âYou donât get it, do you?â You were shouting now. âShe is using you, Satoru! And Iâm the one whoâs supposed to stand here and watch while you defend her? While you act like sheâs some saint whoâs done nothing wrong?â
Satoruâs patience snapped, and his expression hardened. He couldnât stand anymore of you making assumptions about her anymore. âYou donât even belong in this house! Why do you think you have a say in anything Iâm doing? Youâre not even part of this!â He took a step toward you, his eyes dark with anger, a final insult.
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you couldnât breathe. The blood drained from your face as everything came crashing down around you.
âOh,â was all you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper as your eyes filled with tears. You couldnât speak. You couldnât even look at him. You felt your heart shatter into a thousand pieces in your chest.
Satoruâs expression faltered, but it was too late now.
âLeave,â you whispered through gritted teeth.
He hesitated for a second, looking like he wanted to say something more. But he didnât. With a sharp breath, he turned and walked toward the door.
The second the door slammed shut behind him, you collapsed onto your bed, your hands clutching at the sheets as sobs wracked your body. You cried harder than you ever had before â louder, deeper, until you felt like you couldnât breathe. Your chest ached with every gasp, every sob, the pain of his words echoing in your mind.
You donât even belong in this house!
He was right.
You donât even have their surname? Were you picked up from some ditch?
She was right.
It is the spawn of Satan himself!
They were all right, all absolutely right, werenât they?
Come with me, daughter.
It was a lie.
You know I wonât leave you.
Lie.
She doesnât need some random guy when sheâs got me.
Lie, lie, lie!
You know lying is a sin, right?
You clutched your chest hard. You didnât know how long you cried, but when the tears finally stopped, all that remained was emptiness. A hollow space where something you had always held onto seemed to disappear.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
âWhat are you doing here?â you asked coldly.
He shrugged, his usual smirk flickering to life. âJust passing by.â
âPassing by my room?â you shot back, though your voice was devoid of any emotion.
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. âMaybe⊠I wanted to talk.â
âWhat do you want?â
He hesitated, just for a moment, before forcing a laugh. âI donât know. How are the studies? Still out to prove youâre the best in the room?â
Your expression didnât change, and the awkwardness between you grew even more.
âAlso,â he chuckled nervously, âwhat did you say to Utahime? I was almost killed thrice in the last two days.â
âIf you donât have anything important to say, Gojo, move.â You stepped past him, unlocking your door. You had begun locking it since the incident that night, to avoid him sneaking in when you were away and to avoid anyone walking in on you bawling your eyes out, trying to drown the repetitive voices in your head with theories about spells and charms.
âWhy are you being like this?â His voice stopped you. He paused, watching you fiddle with the lock, clearly taking the hesitating actions as a cue to continue. âLike⊠like you donât care.â His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, they werenât the Satoru you knew. There was no smugness, no teasing â just guilt.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. âYouâre imagining things,â you said, pushing the door open.
âAm I?â His tone sharpened, and he took a step closer. âYouâve been avoiding me for weeks. You wonât even look at me.â
âMaybe I have nothing to say to you,â you replied, turning to him to see his expression one last time before sorrow overtook your senses again.
His shoulders were stiffened, and for the first time this night, he couldnât meet your gaze.
âThatâs what I thought,â you said, your voice quieter now. âYou know exactly why, Satoru. You just donât want to admit it.â
He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. âI didnât mean it,â he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
âGoodnight, Satoru,â you said, slamming the door in his face before he could say anything else.
The silence that followed was deafening, and on the other side of the door, he lingered. You waited, holding your breath as you leaned against the wood, but no sound came.
And just like that, the distance between you grew wider.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
Your school year was nearing the end, and summer was around the corner. The days before that had been a blur. You had avoided Satoru like the plague, throwing yourself deeper into your books and classes. Even your classmates had noticed the change, though none dared to bring it up to your face.
Except for Shoko.
âAre you okay?â she asked one afternoon, cornering you in the library.
âIâm fine,â you lied, not looking up from your Curses: A Guide to Identify the Weakness book.
âNo, youâre not.â She pulled up a chair, crossing her arms as she stared at you. âYouâre avoiding him, heâs avoiding everyone, and the rest of us are stuck in the middle of whatever this is.â
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you said flatly.
She groaned, leaning back in her chair. âYouâre lucky this is me and not Utahime. Just so you know, he sent a message.â
That caught your attention. Slowly, you closed your book and looked at her. âWhat message?â
âHe said heâs done with Alina,â Shoko said softly. âSaid he wouldnât talk to her anymore.â
âWhy are you telling me this?â you asked quietly.
âBecause,â Shoko said, standing up, âyouâre both being stupid. And Iâm sick of watching my friends tear themselves apart over something that could be fixed with one honest conversation.â
âHonest conversation?â you repeated bitterly. âWhatâs there to say? He made his priorities clear, Shoko.â
âDid he?â She raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. âOr did you just decide that for him because youâre too scared to hear what he actually thinks?â
Your jaw tightened. âYou werenât there, Shoko. You didnât hear the things he said.â
âYouâre right, I wasnât. But Iâve seen how miserable heâs been these past few weeks,â she countered. âHe wonât say it, but heâs been beating himself up about it. He knows he messed up.â
âAnd what about me?!â you snapped, your voice harsher than you intended. âIâm supposed to just forget everything? Pretend like I wasnât the one he hurt?â
Shoko sighed, her expression softening. âNo. But youâre not giving him a chance to make it right. Heâs been trying to talk to you â hell, he even took all the hits heroically when Utahime nearly ripped him apart.â
You blinked, caught off guard. âUtahime â what?â
âOh, yeah,â Shoko said. âShe had a few choice words for him. Mightâve included running him over by her carriage horses. Not my place to repeat them, but letâs just say she wasnât thrilled with how he handled things.â
Despite yourself, a small, bitter smile tugged at your lips. âGood for her.â
âLook,â Shoko said, softening her tone again, âyou donât have to forgive him right away. But at least talk to him. Heâs done with Alina, and itâs obvious youâre not over him. Donât let this thing between you two fester any longer.â
You stared at her for a long moment, her words sinking in despite the stubborn walls youâd built around yourself. âIâll think about it,â you said finally.
âGood,â Shoko said with a satisfied nod. âJust⊠donât take too long. Weâre not kids forever, you know.â
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The knock on Satoruâs bedroom door felt louder than you intended. You had rehearsed this moment in your mind a dozen times already. What were you supposed to say again?
Hey. Itâs me. Haha.
No no no. Hey, how have you been?
No, ugh. Hey, nice weather?
Still, when the door opened and his bright blue eyes met yours, every word you had prepared seemed to vanish. The two of you only stared at each other, he in surprise and you in embarrassment.
âHey,â he said, trying to break the silence.
âHey,â you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
The silence stretched between you for a moment before he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. You did, though your fingers fidgeted nervously at your sides.
The room looked messy. The bedsheets were sprawled around as if he had been tossing and turning all night earlier. The curtains were closed so the room was in utter darkness. Yet, you needed no amount of light to see the look of sleep-deprivation he carried on his face.
Was it because of you? Because you had acted this way? Was it because he was regretting what he said to you earlier (he should, a voice in your head said, but you pushed it away)? Or was he failing his classes again? His stream was different from yours so you couldnât meet him in school either. Or was it perhaps because ofâ
âI wasââ you both started at the same time, cutting each other off awkwardly.
You let out a breathy laugh, and for the first time in weeks, his lips pulled upward, a glimmer of the boy you knew. âYou first,â he offered, stepping closer.
âI was going to say that IâŠâ Your words faltered as he reached for your hand. His fingers, warm and tentative, brushed yours before interlocking gently. âOh. Wow.â He smiled at you, pulling you closer to kiss the top of your head. âI missed this,â you admitted finally, your voice breaking slightly.
âIâm sorry,â he said immediately, softer than you had expected him to be. âFor everything. For being such aââ
A sudden knock interrupted him, and a servantâs voice called from the hall. âYoung Master, Miss â Madam requests your presence in the meeting room immediately.â
Satoru groaned under his breath, but you let go of his hand, smiling as well now. âWeâll talk later,â you murmured, turning to leave.
The Gojo clanâs meeting room was one thing, but the Gojo familyâs meeting room felt even more imposing. High ceilings, ornate woodwork, and an air of superiority â that was the only way anyone could describe it. Mother and Father sat at the head of the low table, their expressions unreadable.
âYouâre here,â his father said. He gestured for you and Satoru to sit, and you did, sitting in a formal position with your hands on your knees, feet touching the soft pillow under you. His mother only nodded at both of you. âWeâve received an invitation from the Kamo Clan.â
Kamo Clan? You had read about a legend of theirs in your history class. A man who had dropped himself to the bottom of the hells indulging with curses to create powerful heirs. The Kamo Clan had an awful reputation â ancient, powerful, and, if rumours were to be believed, sinister.
Beside you, you felt Satoru stiffen, and whisper only one word.
âAlina?â
Of course! How could you have forgotten that? The girl who had been plaguing your school ever since she set foot in it was Kamo Alina. Suddenly, what his father said didnât matter anymore. The way his mother was staring between you and him didnât matter anymore. What was about to happen in his room that time didnât matter.
âThe banquet,â Satoruâs father continued, and it took a lot of effort from you to keep listening, âis an exclusive gathering of noble families from across the globe. It will take place in the south, and attendance is mandatory for representatives of our house.â
You gathered the courage to steal a glance at Satoruâs expression. The look on his face was enough to tell you he wasnât surprised by the connection. He knew. He had known it all this time. Your hands curled into fists under the table, your nails biting into your palms, probably leaving marks too.
His motherâs voice said coolly. âPrepare yourselves. Youâll leave at the end of the week. Dismissed.â
You didnât wait for Satoru as you stood abruptly, your pillow gliding across the floor. You made your way back to your room, trying not to look back at his face, but you didnât make it far before he caught up with you.
âWait!â He grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. âItâs not what you think.â
You yanked your arm free, glaring at him. âItâs not what I think? Really, Gojo? Because I think you lied to me.â
âI didnâtââ
âYou said you werenât in contact with her!â you snapped.
âIâm not! This isnât me â itâs her family. Theyâre the onesââ
âOh, so her family conveniently sends in an invitation to us to attend their stupid gathering at somehow the right time?â
âI donât know? Look,â He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, not at you, no, but at that darn family. âI told you, Iâm not in contact with her. That is the truth. I havenât spoken to her sinceââ
âSince when?â you interrupted, stepping closer. âSince you told Shoko you were done? Or since you got caught? Because it feels like right now, Iâm finding out the actual truth.â
âThat is not the truth, please just listââ
âStop,â you cut him off. You had had enough. âItâs okay. I donât know why you think I even care. I âdonât belong hereâ, remember?â
âThatâs not what I meant!â he shouted, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.
You stepped back, shaking your head with a sigh. âDonât follow me.â
âPlease,â he pleaded, his voice softer now, desperate. But you didnât look back as you turned and headed for the courtyard, away from him and his stupid, stupid noble traditions.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The journey to the Southern estate was agonisingly long, but then again, you were from the East, and crossing entire landmarks took more than weeks by unruly waters. After the travel on the Gojo estateâs huge ship, your family was met with a stout, snotty man representing the Kamo clan, in charge of dropping you to their estate by comfortable carriages. The carriage rocked back and forth, and the countryside unfolded before you, but you couldnât bring yourself to appreciate any of it. Your focus remained on the window, your reflection glaring back at you. Anything to avoid looking at him.
Satoru sat beside you, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently against the carriage floor. The silence was so oppressive it practically screamed at both of you to make up already. His mother sat across from you, but her usual composed expression faltered slightly as she glanced between you and her son.
After what felt like an eternity, Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, his head lolling back against the seat. "Are you seriously going to do this the whole trip?"
You didnât move. âDo what?â
âThis,â he said, waving a hand vaguely in your direction. âActing like I donât exist.â
âIâm not acting,â you replied coldly. âYouâre still breathing, arenât you?â
He bristled at your tone, his foot tapping faster. âWow. Real mature.â
You didnât dignify that with a response, instead shifting slightly in your seat to angle yourself even farther away from him. The silence returned, heavier now, and his mother finally cleared her throat, breaking it.
âIs everything all right?â she asked delicately, her eyes lingering on you longer.
âYes,â you answered quickly, too quickly. âEverythingâs fine.â
Her brow lifted slightly, but she said nothing, her gaze darting to her son. He sat rigid, his jaw clenched as he poked his head out of his own window, refusing to meet her eyes.
âFine,â Satoru muttered after a beat, as if to echo you. His tone was harsh, though he didnât look at either of you.
His motherâs lips pressed into a thin line, but she didnât press further. The realisation seemed to dawn on her that her carefully curated plans for her sonâs life â whatever they might be â were starting to crack at the seams.
Satoruâs foot finally stilled, but his irritation hadnât seemed to disappear yet. After another stretch of unbearable silence, he tried again, his voice softer this time. "Look, Iâm not going to apologize for something I didnât do.â
âGood thing Iâm not expecting one, then.â
He groaned, running a hand through his hair. âCan you at least try to meet me halfway here? This is ridiculous.â
You finally turned to look at him. âWhatâs ridiculous is pretending any of this matters. I shouldnât even be here, right? So why donât you justââ
âThatâs enough,â his mother cut in, her tone sharper than you had ever heard it. Her gaze pinned you both in place. âWeâre almost there. I suggest you both compose yourselves before we arrive.â
You bit the inside of your cheek, retreating back into silence, but not before catching the slight smirk on Satoruâs face. It wasnât amusement, though â it was frustration barely held in check. He didnât say another word, leaning back against the seat and staring resolutely at the ceiling as the carriage rocked along. You pressed your lips together and turned back to the window.
That was when you saw it.
The estate loomed in the distance, its dark silhouette framed against the dusky sky. It wasnât grand in the way the Gojo mansion was. No, this place had an oddly familiar air of foreboding. Its high walls and shadowed towers looked like they were whispering secrets and things long forgotten in history. The closer you got, the more a strange chill settled over you, prickling the back of your neck.
Goosebumps ran down your arms as the carriage rolled closer. The gates opened with an almost eerie slowness. There was billowing mist surrounding the entire area, and it made the scene even more creepy. You couldnât explain it, but something about this place just felt⊠wrong. It wasnât just the estateâs imposing presence or the way the evening light seemed to bend around it â it was something you couldnât place at all.
You felt like something bad, really bad was going to happen here, or perhaps had already happened. A chill ran down your spine when you recalled the pages of absolute horror you had seen attached to the restricted books in your library, and their vibes seemed to match that of this place.
Beside you, Satoru shifted uncomfortably. You glanced at him for a moment and saw that his confident facade had slipped. His eyes lingered on the estate, as if trying to figure out just what it was that made the place seem so uncanny and unreal, like it was something straight out of a horror novel.
As the carriage came to a stop, his mother stepped out first, poised as ever. She didnât seem fazed by the oppressive air of the place, but then again, she rarely showed any cracks in her demeanour.
You followed, your legs unsteady as they hit the gravel path. The chill hadnât left you, clung to your skin. Satoru came last, his usual swagger dimmed.
âRemember,â his mother murmured as the servants approached, her voice low and pointed, âappearances are everything. Do try not to embarrass the family.â
You nodded stiffly, but deep down, all you could think about was how much you wanted to leave this place. Sighing and ignoring the tremble of your gut, you held your own hands and entered the estate.
The estateâs grand entrance hall was vast, its high ceilings decorated with intricate wooden carvings that spiralled into ominous shapes. A line of servants stood on either side, their heads bowed low in synchronised precision. âWelcome to the Kamo estate,â they chanted together, their voices echoing.
A servant stepped forward, addressing Satoruâs father (and not batting an eye to his mother) with an apologetic tone. âWe regret to inform you that our â that is, the Kamo clanâs â leaders could not greet you in person. Urgent matters required their immediate attention, but they send their sincerest apologies and look forward to meeting you tomorrow.â
Satoruâs father met his wifeâs eyes, and she nodded curtly, and the servant's eyes widened as if he realised the error he made by ignoring her and addressing only the male leader in your group. âIt is of no consequence,â she replied coolly.
As the servants moved to escort you all further inside, you couldnât help but glance around. The estate was undeniably grand, but there was something cold and uninviting about it. The polished marble floors gleamed under flickering chandeliers, and the thick, musty air clung to your skin. It felt more like a mausoleum than a home.
The servants led you through endless corridors, the silence broken only by the sound of footsteps on stone. Every now and then, you passed ornate doors or shadowy alcoves, each one looking more foreboding than the last. You tried to shake the feeling of being watched, but the creeping sensation never left.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a door, and the servant gestured to it with a bow. âThis will be your room,â he said before retreating with the others.
You stepped inside hesitantly. The room was smaller, far removed from where they were escorting Satoru now, and you had a feeling his would be uncomfortably close to Alinaâs. The room was smaller, colder, and had an air of neglect, as if it hadnât been opened in years. Dust coated the surfaces, and the faint scent of damp wood lingered in the air. There were faint scratches on the walls as if someone had clawed at them long ago. The wallpaper had started peeling in places, and the furniture looked untouched, as though someone had decided only yesterday to disturb the fifteen year old cobwebs. The architecture, the layout, even the faint smell of mildew â it was unsettlingly familiar, though you couldnât quite place why.
Satoruâs mother appeared behind you. She took one look around the room, and her eyebrows twitched into a carefully concealed scowl. âWell,â she said. âThis is... quaint, to say the least.â
You turned to face her, unsure of how to respond. She gestured vaguely at the room, the bare walls, the dull, muted colours. âIf you find this unsuitable, arrangements can be made. Iâm sure a clan as proud as Kamo wouldnât want their guests to feel...â She paused, her lips curling in distaste, âuncomfortable.â
You swallowed hard, shaking your head. âNo, mother,â you said, forcing a polite smile. âThis is fine.â
Her brow arched, as though she didnât quite believe you, but she didnât press. âAs you wish,â she said softly, turning on her heel and leaving without another word.
The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, and the silence of the room enveloped you. You exhaled slowly, taking in the sparse furnishings, the musty air. You hated the idea of being a burden, but now, as you sat on the bed, watching it creak loudly, you wondered if you had made a mistake.
Late that night, you lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to get yourself to sleep.
âOne sheep, two sheep, three sheepââ
What would he be doing right now? Was he still upset?
âFuck, lost count again.â You sighed loudly. This was probably the sixth time you had tried but failed to sleep. All because of him. You closed your eyes tightly to try again.
âOne sheep, two shââ
Shit. Natureâs call.
You widened your eyes and glanced at the door, dreading the thought of stepping out into the pitch-black halls of the manor. Your room didnât even have a washroom, which seemed absurd for a house of this size and considering who it belonged to. Clenching your jaw, you tried to distract yourself from the pressure in your bladder by examining the room, but there was nothing to look at. No paintings, no books, no trinkets â just plain walls and dull furniture.
With a sigh, you finally pushed yourself up, deciding to find a maid to help you find the washroom. You lit a candelabrum sitting next to your bed to help you navigate the area. The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the walls. You tried to stay calm, but every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made you jump.Â
You walked, and walked, and walked. The layout of the house was like a maze in itself, and every turn seemed to lead to another identical hallway. Within the span of minutes, you found yourself descending a set of stairs you didnât remember seeing before.
The air grew colder. The scent of damp stone and decay was thick in your nostrils. You paused at the bottom of the staircase, realizing with a jolt of horror that you were in what looked like the basement of the manor. The little light coming from your candles barely illuminated the space.
A wave of nausea hit you. The place smelled like dead rats, but somehow, despite your lack of sight in the room, a lot of scenes seemed to cross your mind. Shadows in the halls. Muffled screams. The overwhelming fear of being dragged into this very basement to be punished for something you couldnât understand. Your eyes caught on the walls, and you lifted your candelabrum up and stepped closer. There were faint marks carved into the stone. Tally marks. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
Your hand reached out, trembling, brushing against the ridges. A flash of a memory hit you â your hand gripping a piece of stone fully covered in blood, dragging it across a surface, one line after another. But where had it been? In a classroom, on the board? No â this was something else, something darker. Your stomach twisted, and you stumbled back, the nausea overwhelming.
âMiss?â A voice shattered the silence, and you whipped around to see a maid standing at the top of the staircase. Her face was pale, her brows furrowed, as if you had offended every fibre of her body by stepping down into this basement. âWhat are you doing down here?â
You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out. The smell of the basement, the tally marks, the scenes â they clung to you, and you could only shake your head.
âLet me escort you back to your room. You shouldnât ever be hereâ
You nodded mutely, following her up the stairs. She led you back through the winding halls. By the time you reached your room, the trembling in your legs had mostly subsided, though the chill of the basement still remained. She opened the door for you, offering a rigid nod before disappearing back into the dark hallways. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you, and exhaled shakily.
Your hands were still trembling slightly as you sat on the edge of the bed, trying to steady your breathing. The scenes â fragmented, disjointed â played on a loop in your mind. What were they? Forgotten memories? Flashbacks? The tally marks, the muffled screams. They were just like something out of your worst nightmares. You buried your face in your hands, feeling the sting of tears prickling at your eyes.
A soft knock at the door startled you. You hastily wiped your eyes, rising to your feet. When you opened it, Satoruâs mother stood there. Her expression softened slightly when she saw you.
âYouâve been crying,â she said matter-of-factly.
âIâm fine,â you said quickly, stepping aside to let her in.
She swept into the room, her gaze flickering briefly to the empty, barren space. âThis room is unacceptable,â she said bluntly. But then, as she turned to face you, something in her eyes looked gentler, almost human â something she had always carried around you. âYou should have asked for it to be changed, darling.â
You shook your head. âI didnât want to be a bother. Itâs fine, really.â
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she studied you. Then, to your surprise, she stepped closer, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders. âYouâre far too used to accepting the minimal,â she said quietly. âThatâs not what you deserve.â
You blinked, startled by the tenderness in her tone. Before you could respond, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her cool hand lingering briefly against your cheek. The gesture was so unexpected, so maternal, that your throat tightened with emotion.
âI will speak to the servants in the morning,â she said, straightening but not pulling away. âAnd if you ever feel uncomfortable â ever â you will tell me. Do you understand?â
You nodded wordlessly, unable to trust your voice.
âGood.â She adjusted the edge of your sleeve with a small, practised motion, as if tidying you was a second nature for her. âGet some rest. You look exhausted.â
She turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder. âAnd whatever it is that has you so unsettled tonight... I will see to it. Do not let it weigh on your mind. The past has a way of creeping into the present, but you are stronger than it.â
The door closed softly behind her, leaving you standing in the middle of the room.
For the first time since you had arrived at the estate, you felt a sliver of comfort.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
Over the next week, your efforts to blend in with the household paid off in more ways than one. Most of the maids, initially wary of you as a noble guest, had warmed up to your presence. They appreciated your willingness to help with menial tasks and often joked that you were more reliable than some of their own peers. Soon enough, their dislike for the Kamo family began to slip into their conversations.
It started one evening when you were helping two maids, Haru and Tomoko, carry water from the wells. They spoke in hushed voices, glancing around nervously as though the courtyardâs walls themselves might eavesdrop.
âIâve always said the Kamo family has skeletons in their closet,â Haru muttered. âWell, in this case, theyâre probably in the basement. Youâve seen it, havenât you?â
You nodded. âI have. Itâs disturbing. What were those tally marks on the walls?â
Tomoko sighed, setting her bucket down with a huff. âNo one really knows for sure. Some say itâs the number of people tortured down there. Others think itâs the number of people who died. Either way, nothing good ever happened in that place.â
Before you could press further, another maid, Aoi, cut in sharply. She was older, sharper, and rigid. Yet you had watched her pull the buckets back up from the walls with such brute force that it was no wonder she was still working for the clan despite her age. âEnough! You shouldnât fill her head with stories. Sheâs a noblewoman; this isnât her concern.â Her eyes avoided yours, fixed firmly on the stone path.
Haru rolled her eyes dramatically. âOh, relax, Ms Aoi. Sheâs not like the rest of them. Sheâs helped us more than half the family ever has. Why shouldnât she know whatâs really going on?â
Tomoko nodded enthusiastically. âExactly! And sheâs already seen the basement. Itâs not like weâre revealing some great hidden treasure. Besides, itâs about time someone outside this house knew what the Kamo family is really like.â
Aoi crossed her arms, her frown deepening. âAnd what good will it do her to know? The Kamo family isnât to be trifled with. Youâre putting her in danger â and yourselves, too, for that matter.â
You cut in gently, trying to defuse the tension. âI appreciate the concern, Ms Aoi, truly. But if the Kamo family has nothing to hide, then why should talking about it be dangerous?â
Haru smirked. âSee? She gets it.â
Tomoko leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. âDo you want to know what I heard? Years ago, when the punishments in the basement were still happening, the head of the house would personally oversee them. And sometimesâŠâ she trembled visibly. âSometimes, they werenât even punishing people who broke the law. Just anyone they didnât like. Servants who fell out of favour. Merchants who got on their bad side.â
Haru shuddered. âThey say the screams would echo up through the floorboards. Thatâs why most of the older staff refuse to even talk about it. Too many bad memories. There is also the ghost of that little girlââ
âThatâs enough!â Aoi snapped. âThe girl doesnât need every grisly detail.â
âOh, come on, Aoi. You hate them as much as we do. Donât act like youâre above this.â
âWhether I hate them or not is irrelevant,â Aoi huffed. âYouâre still being reckless. If anyone hears about this...â
Tomoko grinned mischievously. âAnd whoâs going to tell them? You?â
Aoi gave an exasperated sigh but said nothing.
That night, you wrote letters to Shoko and Utahime, recounting the strange conversation and the haunting basement. You might have mentioned a glimpse of Satoru, too, though your thoughts on him were far more conflicted.
Shokoâs reply was predictably blunt.
Sounds grim. Torture rooms, tally marks, mysterious deaths â real classic Kamo vibes. Maybe theyâre compensating for their familyâs lack of charm. But, you know, not my circus, not my corpses. Still, were they tortured with surgical precision? If so, let me know which tools were involved. Iâve got a scalpel set if you want to reenact it. Besides, Iâve always wanted to see how far someone could go with a bone saw and no anaesthetic. For science, of course. Stay alive. Bye.
PS: If you find any good booze down there, bring some back for me.
Utahimeâs letter was far less chill.
That two-timing bastard is probably off doing handstands to impress some girl who can't tell her right from left. Honestly, Iâm waiting for your mother to tell him the truth already. If he doesnât start acting like your fiance, Iâm going to come over there and bury him in that damn basement myself. If I had to spend more than two breaths in his company, Iâd kill him. Actually, Iâd kill him for free. Just say the word.
PS: If I didnât love you, I wouldâve told you to go into that basement again just for fun. But I do love you, so stay safe.
The Kamo clan leaders remained an enigma. Somehow, their presence was so secretive that their portraits were absent from every book and document in the library. You wondered if even the servants themselves had seen these people. âMaybe theyâre so ugly theyâre too ashamed to show their faces?â Shoko had suggested in one letter, and you still snorted remembering that.
From all your time in the estateâs library, you could only find their names â Kamo Daijiro and Kamo Akane. Creepy. You also learned they had two daughters: Alina, the eldest, and her twin who had married into another prestigious family and no longer lived at the estate.
You still hadnât caught so much as a glimpse of Daijiro or Akane, but that would change soon. A grand gathering was scheduled for the following night, and the maids were already preparing for their arrival in the estate.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The Kamo maids worked on you, dabbing floral scents to your neck and pulling a corsage on your hands. Behind you, Aoiâs hands deftly pulled at the laces of the corset you were reluctantly being tied into. Earlier, an unexpected scuffle had broken out between the Gojo clan maids and the Kamo maids when the latter had shown up, intending to tend to you.
âSheâs our priority,â one of the Gojo maids had sniffed, her arms crossed.
âNot anymore,â retorted Tomoko. âShe is living in the Kamo residence right now. Your loyalty isnât required here.â
âWell, sheâs from the Gojo clan!â snapped another maid, her tone haughty.
âYes, and?â Haru shot back. The Gojo maids had given up after a reassuring smile from you, muttering about how they are only leaving because âthe Lady asked soâ.Â
Now, Aoi was tugging the corset strings tighter. The conversation had shifted from the petty bickering of maids to something far darker.
âYou wouldnât believe the stories this house holds,â one of the younger maids murmured, a shiver in her voice. âDo you know about the little girl?â
âWhat girl?â you asked. You hadnât seen the story of any little girl mentioned in the books you had read, but you had distinctly remember a mention of her story in an earlier conversation with these maids.
âMs Aoi knows about it best!â Haru exclaimed.
Aoiâs face darkened as she let out a long sigh. âIt happened about a decade ago,â she began. âA child had appeared on the doorstep, barely an year old, mind you. The family had taken her in, but of course, they did not treat her like a daughter. They had left her in the care of us servants. I was like her mother,â she said proudly. âShe had turned three, I still remember, it was her birthday that night. She spilled a glass of expensive red wine on Lady Akaneâs dress. It wasnât even the girlâs fault. She was just a baby, carrying a tray too big for her tiny hands. But Sir Daijiro⊠he doesnât forgive mistakes.â
The other maids exchanged uneasy glances as Aoi huffed loudly, pausing her hands on your laces to wipe stray tears. âThe girl was dragged to the basement, where they lock away the disobedient. She⊠she never came out.â
Your breath caught in your throat. âShe was⊠killed?â
âYes,â whispered one of the younger maids, her voice trembling. âItâs said her ghost still lingers. Sometimes we hear her cries late at night. And the mist that hangs over the estate? They say itâs her curse â her anger at the clan.â
Aoi nodded grimly. âI was here. I wasnât much younger than I am now, but I couldnât do anything to save her. All I could do was sneak her scraps of food and try to mend her torn dresses after⊠after the punishments.â
You were horrified. âPunishments? For a child?â
Aoiâs tears couldnât be held back anymore. âShe was just a baby,â she croaked thickly. âIâd hear her cry at night, calling for her mother. And when⊠whenâŠâ Haru handed Aoi a cloth to wipe her face. âWhen she died⊠it was the moment I stopped believing the Kamo family had any humanity left.â
The room fell silent for a moment, save for the sound of Aoiâs sniffling and your shallow breathing. âHow can someone be so cruel?â you murmured.
âThatâs why weâre all so terrified,â Tomoko confessed. âIf they could do that to a child, what chance do we have? Everyone here walks on eggshells, afraid to make even the smallest mistake. The leaders havenât changed. Theyâre still the same people who let that little girl die.â
Aoiâs hands resumed their work, tying the last knot on the corset. The maids stepped back. You glanced at the mirror, seeing not just your reflection but the haunted expressions of the women around you.
The little girlâs story stuck with you, her cries echoing in your mind. If the Kamo clan could be so ruthless to a defenceless child, what horrors could they unleash on those who dared to cross them?
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The grand gathering was suffocating. The air was thick with the scent of incense and expensive perfumes, the soft hum of conversation occasionally punctuated by bursts of laughter. You had probably sent about fifty letters in all to Shoko, Utahime and even Geto asking them if they would come to the South, and they all had replied with repetitive noâs. You had tried to keep your head down, avoiding the heavy gazes of the Kamo guests. But you were glad to see that Satoru, for once, was sticking close to you, uncharacteristically quiet. He hadnât so much as glanced at Alina all evening, and perhaps even all this time during the visit if you were lucky. Not that you cared, of course.
Earlier, when you had overheard his mother asking him to keep his distance from âthat Kamo girlâ, and you remembered how he had rolled his eyes so hard you thought they would have gotten stuck.
âFine,â he had said with mock drama. âBut only because Iâm such an understanding guy. And because I want you to stop looking like youâre ready to shank me with a chopstick.â
Now, true to his word, his focus was entirely on you. Every time you caught him looking elsewhere, it was never in her direction. He had even waved off her attempts to engage him, subtly turning his back to her as though she didnât exist.
âSee?â he murmured, leaning down to your ear. âHavenât even looked her way. You believe me now, right?â
You arched a brow, unimpressed. âYou donât get points for doing the bare minimum, Gojo.â
âBare minimum?â he gasped, and you smiled a little. His response reminded you of the âold timesâ, as they were now. âThis is maximum effort for me! Have you met me?â
âHush now, both of you,â his father interrupted. âTheyâre here.â
The Kamo clan heads arrived, and the air shifted. The room quieted, all eyes turning to the doors as Daijiro and Akane Kamo entered. Their presence was magnetic, commanding. As they moved through the crowd, the guests bowed slightly, parting to make way. You moved your eyes to the carpeted floor. You didnât want to introduce yourself to someone who would torture a little girl to death, for Godâs sake.
But then curiosity overtook your senses. You had been thinking of what they would look like for ages. They were like a mystery you had been picking apart ever since you stepped foot into that basement. Now was finally the moment you would get to see the leaders who hid from newspapers, books and even their own servants. You finally looked up. And the moment you saw their faces, the world seemed to tilt.
Sharp cheekbones. Piercing eyes. Their very presence struck a chord you hadnât felt in years. Distantly, hauntingly familiarâŠ
Your parents.
âHush, little baby, everything you need is right here,â your mother cooed, and you walked to where he was leading you. âYes, thatâs it. There are your favourite snacks here, and all your favourite toys. Come on. Go there.â
But you found something else to interest you. Aoi, the maid, was standing right there, watching everything, and you wanted to walk to where she was instead of your bad mother.
âStupid girl, where are you going?â your father pushed you from behind into the basement, and you fell over its many steps. Falling, falling, falling. By the time you reached the bottom, your face felt hot with some weird liquid.
âThis is your new house â for now,â your mother said finally, walking down the steps. âYou have given me enough trouble. From the moment I was cornered in that dark alley, alone and frightened, till now â you have been nothing but trouble. You are a constant reminder of what happened to me that night. You shall die, die!â
âThere, there, now, Akie,â you watched your father cradle your motherâs head in his chest. You tilted your head, and the force almost made you fall back to the ground. âThe child will no longer remain here. I have the most secretive merchants arriving from the North to here. They will be taking this⊠thing away from us, away from you. And then you shall finally be free.â
The realisation hit like a crashing wave, pulling the air from your lungs. Your vision blurred, and your chest tightened. It was too much. Too much. It was unbearable.
Without thinking, you reached out, your trembling hand finding Satoruâs mother instead of him. Her warm, steady grasp grounded you back to reality, and she turned to you immediately in concern. She studied you for just half a second before realising something was wrong, horribly wrong.
âCome,â she said softly, guiding you out of the hall without a momentâs hesitation.
Satoruâs voice trailed behind you, confused. âWhere are youââ
âStay with your father,â his mother ordered firmly over her shoulder.
Once outside, the cool night air hit your face, and it made you realise the warm wetness flooding your cheeks and stinging at your eyes. She led you to a quiet corner of the garden, still holding you as tightly as possible.
âWhatâs wrong?â she asked gently, her eyes scanning your face. âAre you unwell?â
The words tumbled out before you could stop them. âTheyâre my parents.â
Her brow furrowed. âWho are?â
âThem.â You swallowed hard, finally breaking down. âThey! They left me. They sold me. I didnât know their names but⊠Iâve seen them. TheyâreâŠâ
Her expression shifted from confusion to horror. You looked at her face. You had never seen a look like that on her ever before. She released your hand only to pull you into a tight embrace.
âYou poor thing,â she whispered, her voice trembling. âI had no idea. But I swear to you, theyâll never hurt you again. Not while Iâm here.â
You cried on her shoulder loudly, and you could feel she was crying softly too. âWhy? Am I not worth raising⊠Mom?â She pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands. âWhy didnât they come back for me?â
âI donât know, and I donât care what their reasons were. You will be a Gojo soon. It is only a matter of time now. And you will forever, forever, Â be a part of our family. I will not let the Kamos stain your history, ever.â
You sniffled. From somewhere in the hall, you could hear Satoruâs loud voice, probably causing some kind of scene.
âSee?â his mother said softly, trying to distract you. âHe hasnât looked at their girl once, just like he promised. That boy might be infuriating, but when it comes to you, heâs surprisingly reliable.â
A faint smile tugged at your lips.
Satoruâs mother stood behind you. Her fingers were combing through your hair softly, as if to sooth your emotions with her caring rhythm. She adjusted your corset strings next, pulling them tighter, not harshly, but enough to make you focus on the present instead of the roaring panic threatening to take over.
Beyond the ornate doors of the gathering, voices rose and fell. You strained your ears to pick out the words, leaning slightly toward the source. And then you heard it.
A deep, booming voice. The same voice from your nightmares. The one that haunted your memories. Your breath hitched. It felt as though the walls were closing in to suffocate you.
Satoruâs motherâs hands immediately moved to your shoulders to steady you. âBreathe, darling,â she said firmly. âIâm here, am I not? You are safe.â
You nodded, though tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. âIâm trying,â you whisper, clutching the fabric of her dress tightly.
And then, the voice spoke words that made your blood run cold.
ââŠa marriage between Kamo Alina and Gojo Satoru.â
You froze. Your heart seemed to have stopped. The room seemed to have crashed down onto you. You tried to process what you had just heard. Satoruâs mother stiffened behind you, her hands pausing mid-movement.
âWhat did they just say?â you whispered.
She didnât respond, though her head tilted slightly as she listened intently to the conversation happening inside the room. You caught snippets of whispers as noble families exchanged their astonishment at the bold proposal.
Surely, Satoruâs father knows. He knows that Satoru is supposed to be engaged to you.Right?
But then you heard him speak. His voice seemed proud and approving. âAn excellent proposal, Daijiro Kamo. This alliance shall strengthen both our families. I accept.â
The words hit you like a slap. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you thought you might be sick.
âMom?â you whispered and turned to Satoruâs mother. âWhyâŠ?â
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing dangerously. âThat moron,â she hissed under her breath. Her hands fell away from your shoulders furiously. âHe didnât consult me. He didnât consult anyone except Daijiro. Of course, he didnât. Men like to think their decisions are final simply because they made them.â
The applause from the other side of the door grew louder. The sound vibrated in your ears as the nobles toasted the âunionâ. Your panic surged again. âWhat do we do?â you asked desperately.
Satoruâs mother exhaled sharply. âI shall handle it.â
When she threw the doors open roughly, the room fell silent. The silence following her entrance was not mere courtesy; it was submission. Her presence demanded it. Yet Kamo Daijiro, standing near the center with a goblet of red wine in his hand, immediately stepped forward with a smug smile. âAh, my lady Gojo,â he began, his voice filled with condescension. âI was just about to inform you of the wonderful arrangement your husband and I have come to. My daughter, Alina, willââ
âWill do nothing,â she cut him off coldly.
Daijiro blinked, clearly taken aback by the interruption. âI beg your pardon?â he said with mock-politeness.
âYou heard me,â she said, stepping further into the room. Every eye in the room was on her. âYou dare discuss an engagement for my son without consulting me?â
Daijiroâs lips curled into a patronizing smile. âWith all due respect, Lady Gojo, this is a matter for the men to decide. Your husband and I both agree that this alliance is mutually beneficial. Surely you trust your husbandâs judgment.â
She laughed humorlessly. âTrust his judgment? You think Iâm going to stand by while you play politics with my sonâs life?â
She turned to glare at her husband. Satoruâs father cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable under her piercing gaze, but Daijiro waved him off. âLady Gojo, your anger is misplaced. This is a matter of strategy. You may oversee the household, but these are decisions of power â something women cannot fully comprehend.â
The room grew deadly quiet now, and Alina seemed to have understood that what her father just said had been a mistake. Satoruâs jaw tightened at the insult at his mother, but he did not say anything yet. You were still frozen in the doorway, but you could feel that he was about to snap at any moment now.
Satoruâs motherâs eyes narrowed dangerously. âWomen cannot comprehend power?â Every word was pronounced clearly, and she took a single step closer. âYouâre standing in my authority. Under my presence. Having begged for my appearance at this folly of an event. And you think I donât comprehend power?â
âBut this is an allianceââ Daijiro started.
âAn alliance that disregards my authority,â she interrupted sharply. âAn alliance that treats my son like a pawn in your political game of blind chess,â Her eyes flicked briefly to Satoru, who watched the exchange with a furrowed brow.
The room erupted in whispers. The many noble families exchanged shocked glances. Even Satoruâs father looked uncomfortable now, though he didn't dare interrupt.
Daijiro straightened, his tone hardening. âLady Gojo, I understand you may feel... emotional about this. But this is for the good of both our families. Surely you donât mean to disrupt an agreement between two patriarchs.â
Her expression darkened further. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for a glass of wine from a nearby tray. In one swift motion, she threw it to the ground, and the crystal shattered into thousands of shards. The sound echoed in the silence.
âThe marriage is off,â she declared, her voice unwavering. âBecause Satoru already has a fiancee.â She turned and gestured to you, standing awkwardly in the doorway having followed her from outside. âMy future daughter-in-law, her.â
The room erupted into chaos. Gasps and furious whispers filled the air. Kamo Daijiroâs face turned a deep shade of red. The Kamo clan, the maids (who were standing outside, peering through the gates you left open, having not been allowed to enter the prestigious ceremony) and leaders alike, looked mortified at her words.Â
âYou cannot be serious,â Akane said through gritted teeth.
âIâve never been more serious,â she countered.
âYou have humiliated my family!â Daijiro growled, stepping closer threateningly.
At this, Satoru stood up, his sword in his hand as he placed himself between his mother and Kamo Daijiro. He tilted the weapon slightly to make sure the threat of blood was sent across to Daijiro, and blocked the way to his mother. Her eyes softened at his action, and she straightened. âThis discussion is over. Take your child and leave, Kamo. I will take mine. There is no alliance to be forged here. Gojo clan!â She called to the maids, soldiers and workers of the Gojo clan who had come along with them on the journey. âWe shall set off back home right now. Prepare.â
Daijiro stared at her with rage and humiliation. But when he glanced at the sea of judgmental eyes surrounding him, he knew he lost. With a barely concealed snarl, he turned on his heel, motioning for his family to follow.
Satoru fixed his sword back into its scabbard. His mother turned to you, softening again. She rested a hand lightly on your shoulder. âCome. We shall leave this place now, for good this time.â
She led you out of the hall, her grip steady and reassuring, even as the whispers behind you grew louder.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
The journey back home felt strangely fast compared to the painstaking crawl southward. Perhaps it was Satoruâs motherâs fiery words that had lit a spark of patriotism among the servants, and maybe even the horses. Whatever the case, you arrived at the Gojo estate far sooner than expected.
You barely had time to set foot inside when Satoru found you. He cornered you in one of the quieter hallways. The first thing you noticed was his face; his usual, easygoing expression was clouded with something you had never seen before.
âDid you know?â he asked.
You blinked, thrown off by the abruptness. âDid I know what?â
âThat youâre my fiancee.â The words came out bitter and flat, as if he couldnât believe he was saying them aloud.
Your breath caught in your throat. You had been bracing for this conversation, but not so soon. Not like this. âYes,â you admitted after a moment.
He reeled back, as though the admission had physically struck him. âYou knew?â His voice rose, echoing off the corridor walls. âHow long? How long have you known?â
âA year,â you said hesitantly, feeling guilt rise up in your throat. âI mean⊠last year, your motherââ
âA year?â His voice cracked, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. âYouâve known for an entire year, and you didnât think to tell me?â
âI thought she would tell you,â you stammered. âShe said sheâd handle it.â
âWell, clearly, she didnât!â he snapped, spinning to face you again. âSo what, you were just going to wait until the wedding invitations went out?â
âThatâs not what I meant!â you shot back. âI didnât even agree to this in the first place. I was just as blindsided as you when she told me!â
âBut she did tell you, and you did know,â he repeated coldly. âAnd you didnât think I had a right to know?â
âYouâre acting like I had a choice!â you said, your voice rising to match his.
âThat doesnât excuse keeping it from me!â he shouted too. âYou and my mom â both of you â went behind my back. You made me feel like an idiot standing in that room today.â
âOh, we made you look like an idiot?â you scoffed. âWhy? Because you were actually planning to agree to her proposal? Because you wanted to marry that witch of a woman?â
His eyes widened in disbelief. âAre you serious? I barely even looked at her if I didnât have to!â
âThat was because mother had told you not to!â you countered. âDonât stand there and question me when youâve been acting like you have other options.â
âI didnât know I didnât have other options!â he shouted. âBecause no one told me! The two people I trust the most in this world, you both kept me in the dark!â
You sighed. âSatoruââ
âNo,â he cut you off. âDo you have any idea what this feels like? To know that the people you rely on the most didnât think you were worth the truth?â
âThatâs not fair,â you said softly, trying to find the right words. âI was just obeying motherââ
âObeying mother?â he laughed incredulously. âBy lying to me?â
âI didnât lie!â you snapped. âI just⊠didnât know how to tell you.â
âWell, you should have figured it out,â he said bitterly. âBecause now, all I can think about is how little I actually know about you. About us. About⊠anything.â
The air between you felt heavy, suffocating. You wanted to say something, anything to fix the look of betrayal in his eyes, but your mind was blank.
Finally, he shook his head, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. âLook⊠Iâve never thought of you that way before, okay? Youâre⊠youâre pretty, but youâre like a sister to me. Thatâs how Iâve always seen you. Nothing more. Nothing less.â
Oh. Of course.
âI need space,â he muttered, stepping back. âI need time to think.â
© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.
#prince!gojo ââ â
#gojo x reader#prince!gojo#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk satoru#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo#jjk gojo#jjk#jjk x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo fluff#jjk x you#jjk imagines#jjk fic#gojo angst#gojo#angst#fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo fanfic#clanleader!gojo#clan leader!gojo#prince au#clan au#jjk au
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the purest shade of white âȘ okkotsu yuuta x reader âžÍïœĄËâ đŒ
summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.
tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories
notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!
"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"
Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?
As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.
If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.
"Senpai, what should-"
Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.
"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"
"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.
"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.
"I think I'll have him die."
Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.
Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?
Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.
"So you're Yuuji's executioner."
Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."
"Who're you?"
Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-
You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."
A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.
"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.
"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"
You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"
"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."
You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.
No. No!
He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.
"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.
As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-
I can't lose anyone else.
You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.
With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.
Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.
"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"
While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.
"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"
Special Grade?
What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."
You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.
Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.
He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.
Did you miss him like he missed you?
The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.
Will you forgive him?
You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.
"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.
"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.
"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.
"Promise?"
"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.
The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.
"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."
Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.
"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"
Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.
"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"
"Senpai!"
Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?
"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"
Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"
Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."
With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"
Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."
You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."
The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."
You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.
"I promised you, didn't I?"
Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.
"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.
"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.
"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."
The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."
"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"
Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."
As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.
"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."
#haerinwrites#jjk x reader#jjk x reader angst#jjk x reader fluff#jjk angst#jjk fluff#yuta x reader#yuuta x reader#yuta okkotsu x reader#yuuta okkotsu x reader#i'm actually maki with the fucking finally#i love friends to lovers !!
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Something Bad
Kinktober Day 20: Corruption
Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, blowjob, face-fucking (do NOT look at me rn), corruption, slightly innocent!reader, age gap mention, Joel is simply not prepared for how filthy his girl is (w/c: 1.4K)
A/N: I believe in filthy old man Joel and younger even filthier girl okay!!! This may have gotten a little out of hand but idk I can't help but ramble about sucking Joel's dick alright?? (I have been using these prompts by flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)
Joel Miller is a bad man. A bad fuckinâ man.
He knows it, has known it for years. He has too much blood on his hands, too many skeletons in his closet, to be a good man.
But fuck, this has got to be the worst.Â
Youâre supposed to be off-limits, the pretty little nurse that floats around Jackson, tending to the sick and injured. You, the sweet little thing who's never seen the outside of the town walls, who wears pretty dresses you make yourself and brings fucking baked goods to the patrol groups after they get back.
You, who asks him how heâs been, who traces a gentle hand down his forearm, sending goosebumps across his body. You, thirty fuckinâ years younger than him, and so angelic you practically glow.
You, on your knees on his kitchen floor, sucking his dick like youâre fucking starving for it.
Youâd started off so delicate, so innocent, when heâd started this... thing with you. This dirty, nasty secret he has to keep from his own brother, from the entire town.
It had started with a gentle kiss when youâd patched him up after a patrol gone wrong. Youâd fashioned a bandage over his chest, and God, when you looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes, he was a fuckinâ goner. He wasnât sure who moved first, you or him, all he had known was that your lips against his were soft. So soft, softer than anything heâd experienced in twenty fucking years.
âDonât know how to do this,â youâd breathed against his mouth, your fingers clutching into his shirt, âjust know that I want you.â
Joel pulled back, looking down at you with a hard gaze, ready to pull back, tell you this was a mistake, âDarlinâ-â
âI know you want me too, Joel,â youâd said, firmer than heâd ever thought you could be. âI just need-â youâd stuttered, and leaned your forehead against his as you collected yourself, âI just need you to teach me.â
It had spiraled from there.Â
Heâd tried to be gentle with you, but fuck, itâs so hard when youâre so soft beneath him, whining his name and tangling your fingers in his hair. Youâd been so nervous the first few times youâd done this, nervous enough that Joel had pulled back, night after night, just to make sure you were still alright with him seeing you like this.
âYou can say no anytime you want, sweet girl,â heâd mutter, âI wonât mind.â
But youâd always shake your head, eager to learn, eager to please. And fuck, Joel canât help it when he fucks his fingers into you a little too hard, treats you a little too rough. Heâd a bad fuckinâ man, God, he shouldnât even be near you.
When youâd both started this, youâd been quiet and uncertain about what you wanted, leaving Joel to ease it out of you with soft touches across your body and licks of his tongue into your mouth.
Now, though. Now Joel thinks heâs made a fuckinâ monster.
You crave him in ways heâd never thought you capable of, dragging him to your bedroom when he gets home and stripping him down before heâs had a chance to say hello. You beg him to fuck you, use you, anytime he wants.
âNeed it Joel,â youâll whisper, pulling him with you. âFuck, Iâve been thinking about it all day.âÂ
You donât even make it to the bedroom today. No, you corner him while heâs making dinner for you both, turning him until his back is pressed against the counter. You look at him with those pretty, pretty eyes, warm and gorgeous and calling to him like a goddamn siren, as you sink to your knees.
âSweetheart, you canât-â he stutters over his words like a virgin, and all you do is look up at him as you unbutton his jeans, pull his fly open and free his cock. Itâs fucking sinful, the way it looks huge next to your pretty little mouth, the way you press it against your cheek, looking up at him with all of the fucking innocence heâs taken from you.
âWhat Joel?â You coo, pressing gentle kisses up his shaft before sucking the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it for one horrible, maddening moment, before pulling back again. âYou donât want me to suck your cock?âÂ
Joel is going to fucking die here, in this kitchen, if you keep talking like that, keep licking at his cock and looking at him like that from the floor. âDarlinâ, fuck âcourse I want you, but fuck, not here. We can go to bed-â
âToo far,â you whine, and Joel doesnât have a chance to fucking breathe before youâre sucking his cock into your mouth, bobbing down as far as you can before he hits the back of your throat, and motherfucking Christ, thatâs it, heâs going to die.
You suck his cock like a goddamn pro, like you hadnât just learned to do this a few months ago. And Joel should feel bad, he should feel some modicum of guilt for making this pretty, innocent nurse into such a filthy little thing, but he canât bring himself to when it feels so good. So fucking hot and wet, and your fingers digging into his thighs over his jeans.
âGod damn it, baby,â he grunts when you hollow your cheeks, making it that much tighter and his head is spinning, fuck, he must be losing it. You fucking smile around his cock, bobbing deeper, pumping the part of his cock that canât fit in your mouth with a slick hand. âSuckinâ me so good, thatâs so fuckinâ perfect, shit-â
His hips twitch uncontrollably, shoving his cock far, too far down your throat. You choke, pulling off of him immediately, pumping him in your hand as you gasp for breath. And Joel fears heâll pass out when a line of spit connects the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. âShit, sorry, sweetheart-â he grunts, but you only smile up at him, pumping him quick and so overwhelmingly perfect. Joelâs knees threaten to start shaking.
âYou can fuck my mouth, Joel,â you say, blinking up at him slowly, sweetly. âI promise I donât mind.â
Joelâs vision blurs at the edges, and he sucks in a labored breath through clenched teeth as you suck him into your mouth all over again. Your hands wrap around his wrists, tugging his hands into your hair, and fuck, how can Joel resist you? Heâs never been able to, and damn it, he probably never will.
He curls his hands into your hair, pumping his hips up into your mouth as far as you can take him, before pulling out again. Fuck, what would people say if they knew Joel Miller had the little nurse, with the baked goods and kind smile, on her knees in his kitchen, fucking her mouth like sheâs no more than a filthy fucking whore.
His cock throbs in your mouth as he drags his hips in and out, in and out. You make obscene, sinful fucking sounds, little whines when he pulls out, loud, wet sucking noises when he pushes back in. You just kneel and fucking take it, letting him pull your mouth onto his cock with his fist gripped in your hair.
From the corner of his eye, Joel can see your hand move, subtle and silent. He nearly chokes when that pretty, delicate hand disappears between your thighs, rubbing at your clit through your pants as Joel fucks into your mouth like a goddamn madman. The sight nearly makes him black out.
His orgasm rushes into him without warning, and he can barely choke out a rough, âFuck, gonna cum-â before heâs shooting his cum down your throat. You moan around him like you love it, the vibrations reverberating up his fucking spine.
Joel Miller is a bad fuckinâ man, but he thinks this might be what heaven feels like. It's probably as close to heaven as he's gonna get.
When he finally releases his grip on your hair, you lean back, letting his sticky cock slip from your mouth, and Joel watches as you stick your tongue out, showing him that you swallowed every drop. Joelâs spent cock twitches between his thighs.Â
âTake your fuckinâ clothes off,â he mutters, dark and deep and every bit the bad man everyone thinks he is. âRight now.â
You smile softly, standing up off the floor and pressing yourself against him. âWhy donât we go to bed, Joel?â you murmur in his ear, and Joel growls.
He spins you both around until youâre bent over the counter, ass out for him.
âToo far,â he murmurs, and wrenches your pants down your thighs.
#joel and his giant dick will be the death of me#love him for that#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#tlou smut#tlou fic
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Any Dad!JJ? Youâre just one of the best at writing him.
dad!jj for the soul !!!!! i hope you enjoy, angel! i really enjoyed writing this one! đ€
jj's elated when he sees his six year old babygirl, avery, walking out of her classroom. it's three-thirty on the dot, a time jj looks forward to daily when he picks up your daughter and takes her to work with him while they wait for you to meet them there after work.
avery reaches him, and he crouches down to her height so he can press a kiss to her cheek. "hi, babygirl."
"hi, daddy!"
he loves how chipper his little girl gets when she's around him. she lets it be known that she adores his presence, and that's what he's always dreamed of as a parent.
"mama killed it on your hair today," he says. he yanks gently at one of the braids you'd put into her hair earlier this morning. "look at these. phew. think my babygirl's a model."
she giggles at her father's affectionate words, cheeks heating with love. her squeals grow louder when jj scoops her up and makes his way to his truck. he buckles her into her booster seat, ruffling up the top of her hair playfully before shutting the door and getting into the driver's seat.
"hey, daddy?"
"'sup, aves?" he asks, pulling out of the parking lot and starting on the journey to the auto shop.
"what colours do boys like best?"
he arches a brow. "what d'ya mean, sweet girl?"
"dunno...like what colour do you like most on mama?"
"hmmm," jj says, pondering out loud. "that's a hard one, baby. i think your mama looks good in everythin'."
an adorable huff escapes her pursed lips. "daddy. 'm serious. you have to pick one."
the truck zooms down the road, passing by avery's favourite fast food joint. jj can't help but speed up just a smidge, hoping and praying that she won't look out the window and wrangle a chicken finger combo out of him. 'cause then he'd have to get one for her. he's never said no to his princess and he doesn't plan on changing that any time soon.
"mm, i guess i'd say red. i like when she wears that matching lipstick too."
jj looks up at the rear view mirror, catching the way avery nods before a presumable heat takes over her face. the dimple she'd gotten from him peeks through as she smiles to herself.
"what're you smilin' about?"
"nothing, daddy. i just think i'm gonna wear red for the dance tomorrow."
he arches a brow, but he doesn't push her on her answer. "whatever you want, babygirl."
Ë . Ę đđ. Ęâ
jj hears the click-clacking of high heels against the floors of the auto-shop, and he doesn't need to wheel out from underneath the station wagon he's working on to know it's you.
"hi, mommy!" avery greets cheerfully, getting off the spinning chair jj had secured for her from the break room. she runs over to you as quickly as her smaller feet can manage, and you meet her with an equally thrilled grin. you pick her up and squeeze her into a tight hug.
"hi, baby." you smooth down some of her frizz. "how was school?"
"it was good. chrissy shared her chocolate bar with me, and kyle gave me a flower at recess."
neither of you can see it, but jj makes a face under the car.
kyle? who the fuck was kyle?
"he's a good best friend to you, baby," you tell her. "did you thank him?"
"yes. and he's not my best friend anymore, mama. he's my boyfriend."
this time, you do see jj's reaction. or, rather, hear it anyway.
"what?!"
something that sounds like a bang rings through the air, followed by a shit (to which your daughter snickers, always one to find her father hilarious). then, he rolls out from beneath the vehicle, rubbing his forehead to ease the sharp pain. his eyes find your daughter's, though, and he's as stern as you've ever seen him.
"avesâ you can't have a boyfriend!"
"daddy, i'm six. i'm not a baby," avery reminds him, sounding every bit like a teenager instead of her actual age. the sass never failed to make you smile.
just like her daddy.
"yes, you are still a baby! my baby!"
"jâ" you interject.
"nah. nope. no way."
"why don't you go back over there and colour, angel?" she nods, and you set her down, watching as she runs back to her chair. she takes a sip of her apple juice, bringing her attention back to her artwork.
deciding she's not at all bothered by jj's theatrics, you walk over to him and help him stand. you look up into his cerulean eyes when he towers above you. "babe, relax. she's six."
"exactly! she's a baby! she can't have a boyfriend. s'just not happenin'."
you give him a knowing smile, your arms looping around the back of his neck. "you were my boyfriend when we were six," you remind him. "don't think you found anything wrong about that back then."
he frowns, but pulls you in closer by your hips anyway. no matter what, any time he's around you without touching you, it just seems like a waste.
"that's different. i was a nice boy."
you both realize avery's been listening quietly when she chimes in. "kyle's nice too, daddy. he kisses my cheek everyday at the end of school."
she says it like it's a fact. like kyle never misses out on what infuriatingly sounds like a tradition to jj.
jj thinks he's having a stroke.
"he's puttin' his lips on you, now?!" his forehead falls to your shoulder, and he slumps against you like the six-foot baby he is. "oh god, i think i'm gonna be sick." a beat passes, and then he distances himself from you. the sulk is still prominent on his face, and now, it's probably permanent. he pulls at his collar, shifting uncomfortably as he tries to fan himself off. "'m i sweating?"
avery hops down from her chair, strutting over to her father and tugging at the leg of his coveralls, silently requesting that he crouch down to her height. of course, jj immediately falls in line.
"don't be mad, daddy."
"wait, wait, waitâ is kyle the reason you're wearin' red tomorrow?!"
"don't worry, daddy." she pats his cheek like he's the one who needs reassurance. to be fair, he clearly is. "kyle's nice. just like you."
and with that, she trots off back to her chair with a cheshire cat smile, clearly feeling accomplished.
"yeah. he better be," jj mutters bitterly, standing back up.
your hands reach out to grab a hold of your husband again, and it draws his attention back to you. your hands frame his face and you give him a smile. "you're gonna be a total nightmare when she grows up and gets a boyfriend or girlfriend for real."
"damn right, i will. like i said, she's my baby."
you raise a brow. "i thought i was your baby?"
his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then his mouth forms into a smirk. "see now, she's my baby. but you're my baby." his hands migrate down to your ass and he gives you a squeeze. "you pickin' up what i'm puttin' down?"
"oh, i think i am."
concepts ; concepts (ii)
#ê° â daydreams ê±#ê° â jj maybank ê±#ê° â dad!jj ê±#dad!jj#dad!jj maybank#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank prompt#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank concepts#jj maybank concept#jj maybank blurb#jj maybank brainrot#jj maybank brain rot#jj maybank thoughts#jj obx#jj outer banks#jj maybank obx#jj maybank outer banks
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habits || bloody painter
SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: descriptions of gore, murder, abusive/toxic relationship, stalking, service dom!helen, borderline yandere helen, overstimulation, praise
Helen considered himself to be a poised and intelligent young man.
He had never considered himself lowly enough to crave romantic affairs, nevertheless develop a full fledge obsession.
He lived his life on a scheduled routine. The only variable he allowed to change was in which victim he selected. His creativity was shown through out his art pieces, he didnât need tons and tons of action to keep him mentally satisfied. After all, he was an artist. A painter. One with methods society disapproved of, but a painter nevertheless. Helen considered himself to be content with life.
He came and went from the Trenderman mansion as he pleased. On Tuesdayâs he spent quality time with The Puppeteer. What else could he possibly need?
That question became answered, once he saw you.
Helen hadnât even meant to see you. Your neighbor had been his choice for his routine victim. Middle aged man with a habit of watching the neighborhood kids play in the street. One would normally find that endearing, but the contents Helen found in the mans household were not so much. Helen thought he had done a fine job, turning a scum of the earth pedophile into a work of art. He was spread like a starfish, pinned to the wall by his hands and feet with the handy kitchen knives. His chest of course was ripped open, the contents of his organs fallen onto the floor below. Helen's favorite part, the one he deemed to make this a masterpiece, was the removal of the mans genital's. Helen found it very appropriate to cut that off and staple it into the wall beside him.
As Helen admired his masterpiece, he couldn't help but overhear yelling coming from the direction of your house. Normally he would take this as his sign to leave. After all, his work here was done. But then he heard your voice. He was drawn to you like a sailor to a siren. Curiously he peered through the deceased mans curtains, looking over at your house. Your white curtains were closed, but he could make out the shadows of you arguing with a taller man. Helen wasn't a fan of domestic violence. He had witnessed all of that and more during his childhood stay at the psychiatric hospital. During that time he trained himself to stay neutral. To pretend what he was seeing didn't exist. But the pain in your voice intrigued him. Cautiously he slipped out of the mans house, dying for a closer look.
Using the shadows of the night to his advantage he slipped out of the neighbors backyard, hopping the fence. Helen creeped over to the window, peaking inside. That's when he saw you. Your face was red with anger, your eyes widened, and mouth running a thousand miles a minute as you argued with your presumed lover. Helen had never seen anyone like you. With your curves, feisty attitude, and bright eyes. You were something a man could only dream of. He felt himself frown at the sight of your oblivious and angry boyfriend, whose veins were popping out of his head from anger. Helen then made himself a vow, one he took very seriously. He was going to be your guardian angel, whether you knew it or not.
Helen didn't have obsessive tendencies. He had never spent his time stalking someone before. He didn't live at the Slenderman mansion, he wasn't sent on missions or anything absurd. He felt out of place as he studied you, becoming accustomed with your routine. You lived a simple and peaceful life, outside of your toxic relationship. Helen decided to study up on your lover as well, since he seemed to be such a massive issue. His name was Liam. Occupation: unemployed. If Helen had to take a guess he would assume that is why the two of you were arguing. Helen deemed Liam to be a useless slob. One that didn't do much of anything with his time, nevertheless tend to you and your needs. How you ended up with such a useless partner Helen could not figure out.
He enjoyed how modest you were. Your spare time was spent in libraries, curled up in the most secluded corner with a good book. You only ordered from small businesses, even if it meant going out of your way to attend them. All and all you were perfect. Helen thought of all the ways heâd introduce himself to you. Maybe he could run into you at the local book store. Or maybe heâd accidentally brush into you on the street. After all, Trendermanâs mansion was at least four states over from where he was wanted for being a serial killer. Showing his face in public was too much of a risk though, he feared. Especially with the cops now on high patrol in your neighborhood since the murder of your neighbor. If he could go back in time he wished he couldâve seen you first. He wouldâve at least changed his victim to someone a few streets over.
The more Helen watched the more he noticed Liamâs violent tendencies. It all came to a screeching halt for Helen once he saw him put his hands on you. Now that. That did numbers on his mind. Who did he think he was? Stomping on such a delicate flower like yourself? If it wasnât for the patrol car parked outside of your neighbors house he wouldâve slit his throat and mutilated him for as long as possible. It took every ounce of self restraint he had to not interfere. The look of despair and sorrow you had written all over your face resonated with Helen more than he wouldâve liked to admit. It stayed in his head rent free.
The next day Helen saw the bruises that littered your arms. It was in your character to modestly try to cover them. He expected that of you, even if he didnât approve. What he hadnât expected of you, was for your night life to become so social. You previously had proven yourself to be introverted and borderline antisocial. Yet, he watched you through your window as you put in earrings. You were dressed up more than he had ever seen. A tight dress and strappy heels clothed you, his mind going to rancid filth at the sight of your exposed thighs. So Helen did what he thought to be the best course of action: he followed you. This time however, he had different plans.
He planned to finally meet you.
He was surprised your location of choice was the local club, crowded with local college students and overbearingly loud with music. Even as you paced through the door he could sense how uncomfortable you were with the bass booming. Straightening out his collar he trailed behind you, the bouncer not glancing at him twice. He followed you through the never ending sea of swaying bodies, your hips ones that Helen would recognize anywhere. You approached the bar, sliding up on the bar stool like you had done this time and time again. Helen tried to appear casual as he sat beside you, the bartender approaching him. âWhiskey, neat please,â He ordered. You hadnât glanced in his direction, your fingers aggressively typing against your phone screen. The overworked bar tender looked at you, your gaze not meeting his.
âMaâam?â
Embarrassed you looked up, eyes widened. It then occurred to Helen why you chose the club. Subtracting the alcohol from the equation, your bruises were practically invisible strobe lights. âIâll have a sex on the beach, sorry,â You gushed, face flushing with heat. Helen tried to avoid looking at you as to not seem obvious, but it was so hard not to. You were so darling, a ball of nervousness as you sat in a location you felt so out of place in. âCome here often?â Helen finally said, the words escaping his lips faster than he meant them to. Your eyes finally met his, soaking in his blue eyes. They were so striking, even in the inconsistent lighting. You awkwardly laughed, not having expected to indulge in a conversation with someone new. âWho? Me? Pfft, no. Absolutely not,â You rambled, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. Helen didnât fail to notice this, giving you a polite smile. âI donât come here either. Iâm Helen, lovely to meet you,â He greeted. He stuck out his hand for you to shake.
You flashed a small genuine smile, before shaking his hand. âY/n. Nice to meet someone like me. Everyone here seems to know what theyâre doing besides us,â You say, side eyeing a group doing body shots at the opposite end of the bar. The bartender set down both of your drinks, nodding before walking off to help another customer. âIf you donât mind me asking, what brings you in?â Helen pried. He sipped his drink, the firey liquid slithering its way down his throat. You slipped the little pink umbrella out of your glass, setting it aside on a napkin. âJust needed to get away from life, you know? I want to feel something absolutely liberating instead of the norm,â You say. Technically you were telling the truth, but you were smart enough to not spill your guts to a stranger. Helen liked that. He liked that you were smart enough to be cautious.
âHow about you?â You asked, taking a large gulp of your fruity drink. Helen gave a slight chuckle. âTroubles at work. You know how that goes iâm sure,â He said. He was dancing along side you in the tango of word play. His occupation was untraditional surely, but the cop outside of your house was most certainly a thorn in his side. âDefinitely. So do you live around here?â You asked, attempting to stir up conversation. You hadnât expected to converse with anyone, nevertheless a handsome man. Helen was quick on his feet with an answer. After all, he had prepared conversation topics and answers for all of the different ways he could converse with you. âIâm new to the area actually. Been here about a month. You?â He replied slyly. You nervously pulled your short dress down before setting your drink on the counter. The obnoxious music seemed to be bothering you.
Helen had learned all of your nervous habits. Strike one was pulling down or picking at your clothing. âDont freak out but I may live next to the murder house,â You replied. Helen raised an eyebrow, now curious. âMurder house?â He asked. Of course, you figured sharing something so frightful to the normal man would be safer rather than lying. Oh how bright you were. âOh cmon iâm sure youâve heard. Itâs the most talk weâve had in this town for ages. Creepy old Gary got torn apart by some serial killer,â You explained. Helen was intrigued by what you thought. If things were different heâd ask so much more. Maybe when he got to know you better heâd ask what you thought of his work. âOh my. Sounds quite brutal,â Helen commented. You nodded, finishing off your drink. Huh. You seemed awfully desperate to get drunk. The bartender approached the two of you again, going to pour you another one.
âOh no no just one please. Do you guys accept cash?â You rambled. You began digging in your clutch, searching for the crumbled up bills you had shoved in there. Helen knew this to be because of your lack of funds. He suspected Liam had some sort of control over your finances. âPut anything she wants on my tab please,â He intervened. Wide eyed you turned to Helen. âYou didnât have to do that,â You told him. He shrugged and sipped his drink, watching the bar tender deliver your drink before walking away. âThe pleasures all mine. A pretty girl like you shouldnât be paying for her own drinks,â He said truthfully. Your blush may have not been visible because of the lighting, but you best believe Helen knew you were. You couldn't help but feel hopelessly attracted to him. Maybe it was desperation. Or maybe it was nice being treated with respect for once.
The clubs music switched to a different song, one with more bass. Helen noted you nervously glancing over your shoulder, staring at the DJ booth. Strike two was the way your eyes darted around when you were nervous. Helen decided distracting you might be the best course of action. âSo, may I ask you on a proper date? What fun activities are there to do around here?â He asked. You became incredibly flustered, the sight definitely one for sore eyes. âThereâs an art museum down the street. Itâs the only gallery I havenât seen in this town,â You suggested. Oh how little did you know that suggestion secured your fate and locked it in place. Helen then had mentally deemed you to be his perfect match. You both would make a delightful pair.
âThats a splendid idea. Truthfully I adore the arts,â Helen answered. It was then you delivered the third strike, the biting of the inside of your cheek. Helen wasnât quite sure what set you off, but the room was overstimulating to say the very least. âHow about we take this party elsewhere? Your place perhaps?â Helen asked. He knew that wasnât possible, but curiosity lingered about what your answer would be. âOh um, no mine itâs very unorganized right now. What about yours?â You asked. You were now gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Oh dear, had you developed a new habit? âI have the most obnoxious roommate. Here, take my hand,â He proposed, setting a neat pile of bills on the counter. Your soft hand took his, the painter leading you through the crowds of people. Truthfully he was searching for more of a supply closet, something more secluded and private. But he supposed an unoccupied handicapped restroom would do. âI apologize for the lack of cleanliness thatâs surrounds us, but your well being is more important,â Helen said, locking the door.
It wasnât terribly filthy, but he much rather wouldâve taken you somewhere nicer. âHelen I- I must be honest, I have-â You began. He knew where this was going. And if he was being truthful with himself he did not want to discuss Liam at your first meeting. So instead, he decided an alternative. âI apologize if this is a little too straight forward,â He said abruptly. Helen towered over you, cupping your cheeks before planting your lips against his. His lips were soft and warm, the faintest taste of whiskey still lingering. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Stumbling you fell back against the wall, your head spinning. âYou are so beautiful and you deserve to be treated as so. May I show you how beautiful you are?â He asked. You nodded profusely, watching him drop to his knees. His slender fingers pulled up your dress, revealing your lacey black panties. Helen couldnât help but feel like you had worn them for him.
It only made his cock harder as he pushed them to the side. Your slick was already wet, your folds begging for attention. âThis wet already? You poor thing, does no one tend to your needs?â He asked, a hint of taunting lacing his tone. You were desperate, the double meaning of his words flying over your head. âN-no, please, please touch me,â You whined. Who was Helen to deny you of that? He licked a stripe up your cunt, sending a shudder down your spine. You grabbed onto his jet black locs for support as his large hands settled onto your thighs. He lapped at your cunt like a starved man, devouring every drop of juice your body was producing. His eagerness to please you only made you wetter. Truthfully you couldnât recall the last time Liam had ever done foreplay with you. Your moans were loud and shameless, the clubs music overpowering the sounds anyways. You grinded against his face, whining as you approached your high. His lips attached to your clit, sucking at the sensitive bud harshly. His ocean eyes watched your facial expressions intently.
You were like a divine art piece that came to life.
Helen kept your thighs apart as they trembled, his name falling off of your lips as you came on his face. Shamelessly he lapped all of the juices away, licking you until he deemed you clean. You went to drop to your knees to return the favor, Helen stopping you. âA lady such as yourself does not belong on this filthy floor. Where you do belong, is with my fingers buried in your cunt until I make you cum again,â He said. Your head was spinning as he picked you up, setting you on the sink. He nudged his way between your thighs, plunging two fingers into your eager cunt. âOh my- fuck- holy shit,â You whined, tilting your head back. Helen curled his fingers inside of you, your gummy walls clinging to him. âSuch a tight cunt, what a masterpiece,â He praised, licking his lips. He began to curl his fingers faster, placing sloppy and uncoordinated kisses onto your neck. âD-donât leave marks,â You pleaded in between pants. Helen knew why, but agreed to your request.
âI would never mark such a beautiful masterpiece my love,â He agreed, his voice hoarse. He pulled down your dress, exposing your breast. He was pleased at your lack of a bra. With one hand he toyed with your nipple, the other abusing your g spot as it pleased. âFeels so good Helen, you make me feel so good,â You whimpered, pawing at his button up. You grabbed handfuls of the fabric, Helen more amused than anything else. How long had it been since someone had truly pleasured you? He concluded it mustâve been an entirety, based on the way he could feel your second orgasm coming. âSomeone close again? Wanna make a mess on my fingers?â Helen asked, a sly grin dancing across his lips. You managed to meet his gaze, your mouth fallen open in the shape of an O. âSo close, wanna cum for you,â You whined. Helen twisted your nipple painfully, triggering your second orgasm. You didnât have time to process it, your vision going white as you creamed around his fingers.
Helen enjoyed watching you ride out your high, your body convulsing as you experienced euphoria. He removed his fingers from your cunt, licking them clean. âYou taste divine my love,â He praised. You gave him a dazed smile, hopping off of the sink. Helen guided you to turn around, studying the mounds of your ass as he pulled your dress up to your waist. âSuch a gorgeous body. Truly a walking goddess,â He mumbled, undoing his belt. It wasnât long before you felt him rub his tip up and down your slick, earning desperate moans from you. You gripped the sink as he began to push inside of you. Your face told Helen everything. That truthfully Liam was no whereas big as him or as coordinated. That you had not had a good fuck in a longtime. Your body was the snitch to everything you were attempting to hide. Helen was quick to bottom out, your gummy walls clinging to him. âYouâre so perfect,â He grunted, beginning to pick up the pace. Helen thrust were slow and powerful, each one hitting your g spot just right.
It was like he knew what your body needed, your sounds sinful and pure filth as he rammed into you. Your cunt told him everything he needed to know, the sound of his name falling off of your lips one he wanted to hear forever. He relentlessly snapped his hips into yours, your orgasm growing closer and closer as he fucked you. âIâm going to make you mine my love, my perfect masterpiece,â Helen huffed, his slender fingers digging into your hips. You babbled an agreement, your mind too far gone. Helen slithered one of his hands down to your clit, drawing fast circles. You stood upwards, your back colliding with his chest as you felt yourself coming closer to your final orgasm. âThats it, cum for me. Make a mess on my cock,â He praised, his breath hot against your ear. His name rang off of the bathroom walls as you creamed on his shaft, your orgasm triggering his own. Helen was quick to pull out of you, bending you over and cumming on your ass.
He watched his white seed paint your skin, creating a beautiful work of art.
Your fate was sealed, you were to spend entirety as his canvas.
#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x female reader#creepypasta x you#creepypasta lemon#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta smut#creepypasta#bloody painter#the bloody painter#helen otis#helen otis smut#helen otis x reader#helen otis x you#bloody painter smut#the bloody painter smut#bloody painter x reader#bloody painter x judge angels#bloody painter x puppeteer
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hi!! can i request carmy berzatto #16, t? đ€
Finders, Keepers.
16. "Is that my shirt?" + t. Roommates
Author's Note - this is written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first time writing for beautiful angel boy carmy <3
Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - smut!! + cursing
Word Count - 1185
Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.
The Roommate Collection.
Having Carmen Berzatto as a roommate is a blessing and a curse.
It's a blessing for many reasons. He's kind, thoughtful, considerate. He cooks, he cleans, he loads the dishwasher correctly. He's fairly quiet, he respects your boundaries, he always lets you choose the movie to watch. He's perfect in every way, really.
He's perfect in every way. That's the curse.
He's the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. And he cooks. And he cleans. And he's the best roommate you could ever ask for. You're convinced anyone would struggle not to fall in love with him. Anyone.
You've fallen victim to the Berzatto charm. As much as you'd love to tell him, you don't want to ruin this good thing the two of you have. It's not worth it. So, you keep your mouth shut, and your eyes glued to his perfect face whenever he's not looking. It's sometimes painful, but it works.
â” â”  ·ă â” ăă * · â”
You're woken up bright and early by someone knocking on your bedroom door.
"I'm making breakfast. Lesson, or nah?"
Before you met Carmy, you couldn't really cook. Sure, you knew the basics, but he's opened you up to all sorts of new techniques and flavours. Whenever he starts to prepare a meal, he'll ask you if you want a lesson. Sometimes, you'll say no, content to watch him do his thing in the kitchen. More often than not, you'll say yes, allowing him to talk you through what he's doing and why. He explains everything step by step, always ensuring he's thorough but never patronising. These little cooking lessons allowed the both of you to get to know each other, bonding you together.
"Yeah, sure!" you call through the door, still half asleep. "Give me a minute."
You hear him turn the coffee maker on, the sounds of mugs clinking together filling the kitchen.
You stumble out of bed, grabbing around for something to wear. You find a dark grey t shirt on the chair and throw it over your head haphazardly. Pulling some socks on to tackle the morning chill, you run your fingers through your hair before making your way through the apartment.
Carmy's wearing his navy plaid pyjama pants and a white t shirt that hugs his biceps just right. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and it takes everything in you not to reach out and fix it into place.
"Morning, sweetheart," he says without turning around. "What do you want for breakfast, pancakes or waffles?"
"Hmmm," you debate. "Waffles, I think."
"Waffles it is."
Carmen turns around from where he's been brewing the coffee, and almost falls over. You're stood leaning against the counter, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy. Your legs are on full display, socks ending just above your ankle, skin glowing in the morning light. You smell like warmth and a golden sunrise. Carmy holds onto the mug in his hand like his life depends on it.
"Coffee," he stutters, handing it to you. You cross the kitchen and take it from him, kissing him on the cheek as a thank you. You both pretend not to notice the way heat blooms up his chest at the action.
The longer he looks at you, the more he can't put his finger on what it is that's driving him insane. There's something different about you this morning, and it's got him riled up. His eyes rake over your body once, twice, three times before he figures it out.
"Is that my shirt?"
You look down to find that yes, it is. You must have picked it up from the pile of clean laundry he did yesterday accidentally.
"Oh, shit. Sorry, Carmy."
"No, it's okay. You look... you... it's - fuck."
You've never seen his brain short circuit like this, and you're not entirely sure what's happening.
"Are you... alright, Carmy?"
"God," he groans. "Stop saying my name like that."
"... like what?"
"Like... fuck. You say it so fuckin' pretty."
He has a look in his eyes you've never seen before. It's almost animalistic. He looks feral.
He strides over to you, cradling your face in his calloused hands. He presses his forehead to yours, and exhales shakily.
"Will you let me taste you, honey?" he murmurs.
Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees go weak. It's a good job he's holding you up.
"Please," he practically begs. "I'll make you feel real good."
You answer him by smashing your lips to his, hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He kisses you back with vigour, tongues tangling and mouths melding. You moan and he swallows it, committing the sound to memory.
Carmy walks you backwards and hoists you up onto the edge of the kitchen table, before dropping to his knees. He looks debauched, knelt in front of you with wide eyes and swollen lips. You think he's never looked prettier.
He starts by kissing up from your ankles to your thighs, building the tension expertly. You're practically vibrating with anticipation, desperate to feel him where you need him most. Your underwear is soaked through, and you're convinced you're going to go insane if he doesn't get his mouth on you soon.
As if he's reading your mind, he nudges his nose against your covered core, inhaling. He groans at your scent, and it's the filthiest thing you've ever seen. He pulls your underwear down in one quick swoop, looking up at you carefully. You grab the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but Carmy stops you.
"Leave it on," he mutters. "Please."
You nod your head, and he takes that as confirmation. He dives into you, lapping you up like a man parched. He's nipping, biting, suckling at you as if he's done it a thousand times before. You prop yourself on your elbows, giving you the perfect view of this perfect man in this perfect situation. He's so eager to please you it makes your heart and your core ache.
"Fuck," he groans. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted."
He slips two fingers into you with ease, and your back arches. You're writhing, moaning on every out breath, struggling to inhale. Is there anything this man can't do?
You can feel your orgasm building, warm and persistent in your stomach. Carmy can too.
"Come on, honey," he begs. "Give it to me. I want it. Let me have it."
You're not sure if it's his dulcet tone or the way his fingers curl on every upstroke, but you fall apart, hips keening and back canting. You whine his name and he groans, low and deep.
"There we go," he's muttering. "Good girl. That's it. Atta girl."
When he's satisfied you're satisfied, he stands up and kisses you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his bitten lips.
"No Michelin star dish is ever going to compare to that," he teases against your mouth. You both laugh, giddy off of each other.
"Shut up," you giggle. "Now, are we making waffles, or what?"
#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader smut#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto x reader smut#the bear#the bear fanfic#the bear fanfiction#the bear imagine#jeremy allen white#the bear smut#the bear x reader#murphy's 500 followers celebration
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Confessional (gr63)
âł A/N Oh gosh...am I really posting this? PLEASE read the warnings. This fic is not for everyone. Do not read if you are not comfortable with dark sexual themes.
âł Summary: George is the golden boy of the congregation and can do no wrong as the pastorâs son and purest of heart, body, and soul. You find yourself fantasizing about ruining each other's purity more than anything, although little do you know, after an unexpected fess up in the confessional booth, heâs not as innocent as meets the eye.
âł Pairings: Dark!Pastor's Son!George Russell x Innocent!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)
âł Word Count: 18.8k
âł Warnings: 18+, smut, George is not a nice guy in this, very sacrilegious (read at your own risk) but branch of religion is unspecified, corruption, manipulation and using God/religious threats as a manipulation tactic. Brief drug use, dirty talk, spanking with hands and objects, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, rough fingering, spitting, slapping, crying, praise, degradation, dumbification, light humiliation, squirting, subdrop, unprepped anal (and going directly from anal to vaginal - do NOT do this), unprotected sex, virginity taking (hymen breaking/blood)
George was an angel on earth. To his family, to his congregation, and, honestly, to the entire town. He was their gift from God - his mother made a point to say at every church gathering she could - and yet there wasnât a boastful bone in his entire body. He was the pastorâs son after all. He had an image to withhold. He had Godâs image to withhold.Â
As he grew out of the churchâs boyâs choir and passed the age limit to be an altar boy, the older women in the congregation were starting to ask him if he was thinking of courting any young ladies soon. They probably had their granddaughters in mind; those copy and paste church-going girls who may not have much to offer but their doodled-in bibles and diamond cross necklaces passed down from generations of devoted Christians. George always declined any offer politely, giving a gentle caress of the old womenâs hands and a sweetheart parting before making his escape. He was a gentleman. Always. In action and in appearance. You had never seen him without his ironed collared button-ups done up to the very top button and tucked neatly into smooth khakis and finished with a pair of perfectly polished dress shoes. He was hardly real. He never had even a hair out of place.Â
It was no surprise that you found yourself slowly falling for him over the years as you grew into your late teenage years and into your early twenties together. You werenât friends and honestly you hardly spoke to him but the stories that your mind created certainly seemed to make up for that missing piece.Â
He sat in the front row of the church every Sunday with his mother and his siblings as his father addressed the congregation and read the scripture. Despite the stories and prayers that filled the agenda, your eyes would be locked on the back of the youngest sonâs head more intently than anything else. George paid close attention to each prayer, delivered each response effortlessly, and always took his spot on the altar to help his father with the blessing of the sacrament. He was perfection and you swore he himself had a shiny yellow ring of light hovered above his head at every given moment, just like the statue of Jesus hanging on the crucifix behind the altar. He was heavenly.Â
As a devout Christian, you took the word of the Lord seriously, and more so once your little infatuation with the pastorâs son only grew - you did want to impress him after all. With nightly prayers and a chapter of the bible before bed, you were sure to soak in each word into your memory and it filled your chest with warmth and spirit.Â
But it was only a matter of time before your mind started to drift from the words on the pages of the bible in front of you and formed thoughts that you were not proud of. It was a downhill slope from that first night you happened to think a little too hard about the way Georgeâs shirt hugged his torso at the community volunteer afternoon. Your hands nearly itched with desire to take it off him in front of everyone although alone in your room that night, you had the privacy of only your conscience. And God.Â
They only got worse day by day, to the point where sitting in a stuffy church listening to Pastor Steve drone on was the breaking point. George caught your attention again, sitting perfectly in the front row of the congregation with his fluffy brown hair styled neatly and his button up ironed free of any creases. You just wanted to rip the buttons off and get him out of it, feel him breathing air into your lungs from his supple pink lips pushed with yours, and straddle his lap with your skirt hiked up until you could feel his-
âAmen.â
The chorus of the church goers around you startled you shamefully out of your thoughts. George, eight pews ahead of you, stood from his spot and walked up to the altar to kneel on the bottom step as if to show off to you how his slacks hugged his bum favourably. He then performed the sign of the cross before ascending the few steps to assist his father with the offering like every Sunday. His hair was a bit longer now and was swooped back from his forehead in light brown waves that almost never moved out of place. The expression on his face was solemn and professional as he worked quietly.Â
You were sure you were the apple in the garden of Eden, poisoned by the Devil, as you imagined George bending you over the altar and that white linen tablecloth embroidered with crosses. You may have felt poisoned with sin, although George was undoubtedly your forbidden fruit. He was tempting and you were convinced this was God testing you and your devotion.Â
Purity was of vital importance after all.Â
You couldnât believe the thoughts that flashed through your mind despite the promise of abstinence you had made from the moment of your first communion more than a decade earlier. Sex was to be between you and your husband, married in the church and under God, not between you and the pastorâs son.Â
You couldnât book a confessional soon enough.Â
Your time was on a Wednesday afternoon with one of the secondary priests from the church which meant you had to endure three full days of sinful thoughts that seemed to have made a comfortable home in your mind. It pushed a strong warm ache between your legs, a feeling you had never experienced before, and you laid flat out on your bed each night and stared at the ceiling as you let the sensations overtake you to the thoughts of George and every gorgeous part of him.Â
Touching yourself was a sin - that fact had been engraved into you from a young age even if you didnât know what it meant at first. Yet, laying on your bed with the images of what George looked like under his Sunday best had your hand shyly slipping down your body. You were going to confessional the next day after all which would undo anything you subjected yourself to before that. Right?Â
You were sure he could treat you so well. He was nothing less than an absolute gentleman after all and your heart raced at the thought of him taking your virginity and making sweet passionate love to you right in your very bed. All you could get yourself to do was cup your hand over the front of your panties, squeezing your thighs together to the thought of him in their place. George was a good boy...an angelic young man...and the flush of your face only rose with guilt at the thought of you wanting to deflower him as he did you. It was so terribly wrong and so terribly sinful but you craved nothing more than all of him.Â
You went to sleep unfulfilled; too shameful to really even do anything to yourself apart from thinking about what he was hiding under those pressed slacks of his well into your dreams.Â
The church was nearly silent when you arrived for your confessional the next morning and you could hardly make your way across the wood floors quick enough, desperate to repent the sins that had weaseled into your consciousness over the last few weeks. The empty hall echoed the click of your heels against the flooring as you hurried along the side wall towards the two thin doors. One was under the small illuminated light indicating the priest was on the other side waiting for your arrival. You slunk through your door and closed it behind you to take your seat in the cramped and dimly lit confessional booth, smoothing your knee length plaid skirt around you.Â
There was only silence and the lingering scent of some sort of blessing you were sure but you hurriedly clasped your hands together, took a deep breath, did the sign of the cross, and spoke as strongly as you could, âForgive me, Father, for I have sinned.â
There was a pause before the priest responded plainly, âExplain.âÂ
âI have had terrible thoughts this last week or so. Terrible, disgusting thoughts. I am so ashamed of myself and I donât know how to stop them.â you rushed out, trying not to stare at the dark coloured metal mesh screen that separated you. You could only see his shadow on the other side in the dim lighting of the confessional booth.Â
âWhat thoughts?â
His voice was calm and serene, sounding as if you were speaking to God Himself right then and there. You let yourself trust in the man on the other side. He was there to help you after all. Your hands wrung together on your lap as you tried to piece together the descriptions of your sins without being too vile.Â
âMy mind has been constantly wandering to impure thoughts of Pastor Steveâs youngest son. Theyâve only been getting worse and worse and...theyâve been appearing in my dreams. I have been trying to turn away the obvious temptation of the Devil but, my goodness, I donât think I can anymore.â
âWhat thoughts? Explain them.â
âI...donât know.â
The pause that lingered in the stuffy wood panelled booth seemed to urge the answers out on your own accord without any more prompting,
âIâve been dreaming of him taking me to bed outside of wedlock.â you spoke softly, staring at your hands folded neatly on your lap as you spilled your confession through the screen, âOr even...taking me right here in this church after Sunday mass...tainting the blessedness of the altar or the pews and filling the church with our moans until-â
You cut yourself off as soon as you realized your tangent had started to stray back to more filth than confession.Â
âUntil the Lord could hear you in Heaven?â he spoke from the other side.Â
âYes.â you breathed, bowing your head in near shame. Your heart was racing in your chest and you rubbed your palms against the material of your skirt. âIt sounds so wrong yet somehow...it makes me feel so good.â
âHave you touched yourself?â
The question from the other side of the screen was blunt and your cheeks flushed in near shameful embarrassment, âNo. I managed to avoid that temptation for the most part although it seemed to be difficult. Father, Iâm sure the Devil has tried to sway me from God and I am frightened as to what I will become if this goes on any longer.â
âYou cannot avoid your urges.â he spoke seriously.
âBut itâs sinful-â
âThatâs why we have confessional...so you can redeem yourself to the Lord no matter what you have done...how many times you have done it...or how many times you sit in this very church and fantasize about being fucked like a little whore by the pastorâs son.â
The vulgar language coming through the screen was enough to startle you silent although the moment the small screen was tugged open and Georgeâs face stared back at you from the other side was enough to rip the air from your lungs. Eyes wide and heart nearly in your stomach, you felt almost lightheaded at the sight of him smirking back at you. He eyed your blushing cheeks down to your collared shirt embroidered with the church name on the left breast and the skirt that you clutched the hem of in your clammy hands.Â
Georgeâs eyes raised back to yours and he licked his lips but didnât do much to hide his smirk, âI think we ought to do something about those sinful thoughts, hm?âÂ
You couldnât word an answer in your shock, stumbling out a panicked, âI thought...I scheduled for Wednesday at 1-â
George chuckled softly and raised a lit joint to his lips on the other side of the open screen and took a long drag before pulling it back between thumb and forefinger, âItâs Tuesday, angel.âÂ
He exhaled, pouring clouds of smoke into your side of the confessional booth which had obviously been the source of the scent you had assumed was some sort of aromatic blessed offering. Obviously, you had been mistaken over a few things that afternoon. The fact that the young man expressing nothing but Godâs image was smoking weed while hidden away in the confessional booths startled you greatly, almost more than your mixup of dates.Â
Georgeâs gaze lingered on yours, your frightened eyes unmoving from his prideful ones. He raised the drug to his lips again and his eyebrow peaked in your direction as the silence that filled the smokey air between you felt more tense than ever. Yet, you didnât seem to make any move to escape the stuffy enclosure of the closet-sized windowless booth.Â
George spoke sultrily, smoke tumbling from his lips as he did so, âLust is one of the seven deadly sinsâŠIâm sure youâre well aware of that?â
âYes, sir.â you answered before you could think. The crimson of your cheeks only darkened at the title that left your mouth without a thought.Â
His lips tugged at the corner into a small smirk and leaned his forearms onto his knees to comfortably stare at you from the other side of the small screen. You couldnât see much more than just his face through the small opening in the metal mesh and the shadows that filled the dimly lit confessional booth made it nearly impossible to read his expression.Â
âYou must give in to your sin in order to be cleansed properly. Confession is the first step. I am more than willing to help relieve you of your lust if you will have me.âÂ
âYou donât have to d-â
âI want to.âÂ
His answer was almost too quick.Â
âAnd, frankly, angel,â he paused to take another inhale of the drug before breathing it tauntingly out into the air between you, âI think I need to.âÂ
George stamped out the joint onto the wrought iron ledge of the open screen and tucked it into the pocket of his pants as he stood. The height of the opening only had his belt buckle and front zip of his chinos in view, right in front of your face, and despite the fact that you had initially come to be cleansed of your sins, the thoughts that swirled around your mind were enough to make your mouth water.Â
In only a second, he bent back down to look at you through the screen, âWell? Come on then.âÂ
His gorgeous face disappeared just as quickly and the dark closet sized room was illuminated by the bright light of the airy church just beyond the doors as he stepped out. Your eyes squinted slightly in the sudden change, from the reminisce of the smoke that was left behind, and the fact that you were sure you were dreaming. Even if you were, it was a dream you did not want to wake up from.
You opened the thin door in front of you and stepped back out into the open church to the relief of cool air compared to how suffocating it had gotten in the confessional booths. The large stained glass windows shone sparkling rays of coloured light across the wood floors and empty pews but the true beauty of the space was truly taken by the man in front of you. With his back to you, you admired him shamefully in a white button up tucked into his cuffed chinos; his initial appearance was that of any Sunday mass. When he turned around from where he had grabbed his leather jacket off one of the pews, you noticed how unbuttoned his shirt really was - almost completely open - and a cross pendant rested easily against his tanned chest.Â
Just the way he looked at you made the air disappear from your lungs and your knees to nearly go weak. He was a marble statue in and of himself.Â
George pulled on his leather jacket over his shirt and adjusted the collar, âReady?â
âWhere are we going?â you asked almost innocently, following behind him like a shy puppy as he led the way towards the front of the church.Â
âIâm taking you somewhere better than those stuffy confessional booths.â George answered plainly. His pace was quick as if he were nearly in a rush and part of you felt a little guilty for interrupting whatever he had been doing that day for your meaningless spiritual chores.Â
âI should text my parents to tell them Iâm not coming home for a bit then?â
It came out more of a question than a statement, your nervous voice quiet through the back hall of the church and George navigated the thin passageways past the basement stairs and the few offices with ease.Â
âDefinitely.â he agreed.Â
âWhere should I tell them I am?â
His sudden stop had you nearly crashing into him with a small âohâ in surprise. George stared back at you right at the back door of the church, a soft tug of a smile present on his supple lips.Â
âDo you tell your parents everything, angel?âÂ
His question seemed a bit more judgy than you had anticipated and your cheeks only rouged under his intimidating blue eyes.Â
âNo.â
You didnât sound too believable to even yourself so you added a just as accusatory,Â
âDoes your father know you smoke weed in his church?â
George scoffed, âWhat do you think?â
âI think I was surprised.â
George turned to face you completely and he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, âWhy were you surprised?â
âWell,â you cleared your throat, trying to keep your stand against him, âyou just seem like an angel yourself. Figured you didnât get up to that kinda stuff.âÂ
âThat kinda stuff? Like what? Drugs? Drinking? Sex?â
Your heart squeezed in your chest at his sinful half-confessions and you tried not to pine it to jealousy in terms of the last one. You crossed your arms yourself to mirror him, âYeah. Makes you look like nothing more than a liar now.â
âDoes that turn you off your little filthy crush on me, angel?â George taunted, tilting his head to the side.Â
His blunt expression of the secret you had nearly forgotten you had exposed to him had you stumbling over your response, your flustered self only making him smile wider at you. He stepped closer and raised his right hand up to brush his finger along your jaw, his warm touch shooting shivers down your spine and your lungs desperately pulled in oxygen as his eyes bore into yours.Â
âI still carry the word of the Lord, you know. I have been the best altar boy in the entirety of this churchâs history, most reliable volunteer for Sunday School and Pancake Breakfasts, and the most respectful and devoted Christian this congregation has ever seen. I am my father and Our Fatherâs honest pride and joy, and as long as I confess to my sins like routine, I will always have a place in Paradise.â
His finger tapped the end of your nose to punctuate his little speech.Â
âSo I think I ought to show you how itâs done, donât you think, angel?â
You could only nod, falling into putty in his hands as he cradled your jaw with his ring clad right hand. His purity ring. Was he really as sinful as he claimed to be? Maybe it was naive of you but you were a bit hesitant after his seemingly so blunt confession to you.Â
âYeah.â George chuckled darkly as his eyes stared at your lips. âGod doesnât want you to deprive yourself of the pleasures of life, angel. He just wants you to be able to reflect and acknowledge the filth of the acts and still respect Him. He wouldnât make it feel so good if it was so wrong. You understand that?â
âYes, sir.â you stumbled out.Â
George swiped his thumb over your bottom lip and tugged at his gently before stepping back towards the exit door, âGood girl.â
You were drawn after him like instinct, like some natural pheromone was luring you out the back doors of the church and across the alleyway in his wake. Your thumbs typed an excuse to your parents, the phone almost unrecognizable in your hand, and somehow trusted him enough to not walk you into oncoming traffic. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were startled by the motorcycle standing beside the back fence and with wide eyes you watched as he swung a leg over and pulled on his helmet.Â
George grabbed the second helmet and held it out towards you casually. He eyed your startled face before speaking cockily, âWhat? The bible says nothing about motorcycles being a sin, does it?â
A small smile played at your lips and you took the black helmet from him, âNo. I suppose not.âÂ
Proudly, George cocked his head, âClimb on.â
You secured the strap under your chin and then helped yourself to the small back seat of the metallic black bike, swinging your leg over daintily in an attempt to keep your skirt from riding up too much. Your innocent hesitation was nearly comical to him as you held your hands shyly on your lap, hesitant to touch him as if he was a holy artifact.Â
George reached back and grabbed your wrists in his large hands to tug your arms around his waist, âHold on tight now, angel.âÂ
You hid your bashful smile against his shoulder and smelling the fading scent of leather along with his intoxicating rustic cologne that surrounded him. With a kick of the engine, the motorcycle rumbled to life and you grabbed your own wrists around his middle in nervous fear as he pushed off the pavement and headed off into the street.Â
The late summer breeze ruffled through your hair that peeked out the end of the helmet and once you reached the main road, riding on the back of a motorcycle didnât seem so terrifying. You still werenât quite sure where he was taking you but you felt yourself trusting him entirely, especially with how good he looked right in front of you. With your cheek pressed close to his shoulder, your eyes struggled to watch your surroundings as they focused on his hands on the clutch and how the muscles in his hands clenched with each acceleration. You werenât sure how you had fallen for him so strongly without knowing he drove a motorcycle but it was a far too attractive surprise now.Â
As your nervousness melted into trust, you let your grip loosen on your wrists and you set your hands gently against his stomach as discreetly as you could. George noticed but you couldnât see his smirk from where you sat behind him and he didnât make a move to stop you. With careful hands, you savoured the feeling of taut muscle below the soft thin material of his white button up under your palms. You swore you could feel abs and you couldnât help but slide your hand up higher to shamelessly try and feel more of him.Â
Your front was pressed right up against his back and you never wanted to let him go. You had dreamt about holding him like that for far too long and innocent or not, you only craved him more. That ache was back between your legs and the steady rumble of the engine and the warmth of Georgeâs body had your skin flushing warm. You were all too attuned to it now.Â
Off the main road and down a side street lined in trees like picture perfect suburbia, George drove his bike into the driveway of a nicely trimmed brick house and parked it by the back garage. You held onto him a moment longer, feeling as though if you let go you would never be blessed with the touch of his body ever again. With your hands pressed flat to his torso and cheek resting against his stiff shoulder, you squeezed him tighter in your embrace. It happened before you could even let the idea graze your thoughts: your hips rubbing up slightly against his denim clad bum sat right in front of you.Â
âAngel,â George chuckled lowly as he set his right hand over top of both of yours against his stomach, âthatâs so filthy.â
You stopped quickly at his acknowledgment, hiding your blushing face against his shoulder, and tried to pry your hands out of his grip. He held you in place and spoke to you over his shoulder,Â
âYouâre horny, arenât you, angel?â
âI dunno.â you mumbled.Â
âYeah, you do.â he encouraged, holding your hands tighter when you tried to tug them away again. His feet on the pavement kept the motorcycle steady in the driveway of his family home. He was already in control. âYou can tell me.â
You rested your forehead against his back.Â
âGive into your sin, angel.â George sang quietly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.Â
âI reallyâŠI would really like you to touch me.â you whispered.Â
âYeah? Good girl.â George praised softly.Â
You hummed in gentle agreement, rutting your hips up against his bum again to try and find some sort of pressure that eased the ache between your legs. George reached behind him with his left hand and grabbed your hip to stop you.Â
âNot here, angel.â he glanced down towards the street, âInside. Now.âÂ
You almost tripped over yourself getting off the motorcycle and George reached out a hand to steady you as you caught your footing on the pavement of his driveway. With the keys in hand and the helmets tucked away, George let you up the back porch steps and into the back door when he unlocked it. The house was silent and you stepped into the prime example of a country rustic kitchen that was nearly spotless apart from the small messy stack of dishes in the sink. There was a decal sign above the pantry reading âGod is Goodâ and you swallowed your nervous shame.Â
George grabbed your arm and nudged you towards the hallway, âGet upstairs.âÂ
âWhereâs your family?â you asked as you followed his instruction without question.Â
George tailed you quickly down the wood floor hallway to the foyer and right up to the straight run wood stairs, âSiblings are moved out and parents are on a mission trip until Friday.â
The privacy that lingered had your stomach flipping with an indescribable feeling. George was the image of God and angel of a young man to everyone in town and part of you still believed that to be the truth, even if his smooth talk and one-off smoking of a joint seemed to go against everything you once thought of him. After weeks and months of dreaming of him and nothing else, climbing the stairs of his house felt like a hazy hallucination. Was this real?
You stopped at the top of the stairs in a beige painted hallway lined with closed doors, wondering which passage would lead you to the ease of your conscience and the confession of your sins. George stopped beside you and his hand dusted along the small of your back, his face only centimetres from yours as he stared at you in the muted light of his empty house.Â
âYou look so cute in your Sunday School uniform, angel.â George whispered against your ear, his hand sliding lower over the back of your plaid skirt. âLike such an innocent little flower.â
Your pussy nearly throbbed at the lust in his voice and your natural physical reaction to him took you by surprise. These feelings and these thoughts were so new and kept deep in uncharted territory you had no clue what to do next.Â
George seemed to know though as he led you to the first door on the left and guided you into his bedroom. It was anything youâd see out of some sort of parent design magazine from the standard little-boy-blue walls to dark wood furniture and a matching accented duvet draped on the double bed across from the door. His bookshelves framing the window to the left were filled with simple novels - nothing fantasy or magic of course, that was never allowed - and the empty spots were filled with little figurines. Said figurines were those of religious icons, likely given at a first communion or baptism by grandparents or distant relatives, as well as picture frames holding family portraits or bible quotes in calligraphy.Â
Your eyes soaked up his room that you had only pictured in your mind since you first laid eyes on him and yet seeing it in person just fit his angel boy persona that he expressed so well. A perfect little church boy down to the few study books stacked neatly on the corner of his desk and his bible resting front and center alongside a small row of various coloured highlighters.Â
Of course he was someone to highlight his favourite lines of scripture.Â
The click of the door shutting behind you drew your gaze back to him and he stepped closer to you, standing in the middle of his childhood bedroom. So childhood that there was still a white painted piece of plywood on his wall marking his growth over the years tick by tick on the makeshift ruler topped with his name in neat blue font. He was much taller than the growth chart now, his name now only reaching his shoulder, and it was a simple fact you seemed to hang onto. His bedroom was as flawless as his Sunday persona.Â
George only stepped closer and you habitually stepped away until you backed into his desk with a soft gasp, eyes unmoving from his. He raised his hand up and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, âHave you ever kissed anyone before, angel?â
âNo.â you breathed.Â
âNo, what?â he pressed gently.Â
âN-NoâŠsir.â you tried.Â
George only smiled politely at you, the same smile he offered the neighbours at Sunday mass, but the scheming lust in his eyes was unmissable. Even to you.Â
âKissing isnât a sin.â he reminded you softly, his fingers stroking along your jaw and down the side of your neck until shivers rose in his wake. âYou wonât even have to confess it.âÂ
You had already formed a slight attachment to his lips over the weeks, always admiring how pretty they were, so full and soft and pink. Kissing him was the least shameful of your daydreams and your heart pounded in your chest at how close he was standing to you, waiting for the moment he would allow your dreams to come true. Your hands gripped the edge of his desk behind you, wide eyes staring at his pretty face mere centimetres from yours, but you didnât dare move away.Â
âYou can touch me, angel.â George offered gently. âI wonât break.â
It was as if he read your mind, had sensed your innermost desires to hold more of him than when only on the back of his bike, and you slowly raised your right hand from the desk to set against his chest. His button up was still mostly unbuttoned and the smooth skin of his chest was grazed by your fingertips nervously. The simplest touch felt like fire was trailing up your arm and setting your insides ablaze in fierce anticipation.Â
You didnât even notice you were breathing so heavily until he made the air in your lungs stop as he stepped even closer and dusted his lips across your cheek. Your hand tightened on the open edge of his shirt as he pressed a feather soft kiss to your cheek and then moved slowly to the corner of your mouth to leave another. You were shuttering with anticipation and you let your head turn towards him slowly to finally feel his lips against your own.Â
There was a pause as you stood motionless for a moment and shared a single chastĂ© kiss between you. With pink cheeks, you pulled back with a gentle little smack and bowed your head shyly, leaving your hand resting against his open shirt.Â
But George easily tilted your head back up by a finger under your chin and slotted his lips with yours, trapping your bottom lip between his two. Your legs nearly gave out right then and there, letting a soft surprised hum fall from your throat as you let your mind wrap around this situation. It was addicting and his lips tasted like the sweetest poison, luring you in for more when he pulled back for a half second.Â
Your hand slid up his chest to his shoulder and around the back of his neck, letting him lead your passionate kisses but you followed along eagerly. His lips felt as soft and supple as they looked, even better than you had imagined them, although you had never imagined that kissing would set such a fire in your stomach and deep between your legs. The feeling of his warm tongue swiping over your bottom lip had you shuttering and he cradled your face in his hand as he parted your lips with his own and tilted his head to the left a little more.Â
You couldnât help but let your other hand rise to his shoulder too, draping both arms around him to keep him close as if you never wanted him to part from you. It was too good, he was too good, and the innocence that coursed through you saw nothing wrong with it. Nothing wrong with the way he held you and kissed you and the way his tongue finally pushed against yours.Â
The room was perfectly silent apart from your messy slow kisses and the muffled pleasant hums that you both shared, craving for more of each other. Georgeâs hand caressed your face and his other rested politely at your hip over your plaid skirt. There was a bit of distance between you and as his tongue and yours pushed together effortlessly, you only craved his touch more. With nervous hands, you slid your fingertips down his chest and over his open leather jacket to the hem of his jeans. You had no idea what you were doing but all you knew was that you needed more and you linked your fingers in his belt loops and shyly pulled him closer to your body.Â
George chuckled softly into your mouth, biting teasingly on your bottom lip as he stepped closer with his legs staggered with yours, and tilted his head the other way to kiss you more. The warmth of his face against yours was addicting in itself and you found yourself arching into him as your body pulsed behind the material of your skirt. You held his body against yours by his two front belt loops as if trying to keep him from moving away for even a second, welcoming his hands down your neck and along the collar of your own white buttoned shirt.Â
âLet me see you.â George whispered into your mouth between slowing kisses as his fingers started to blindly unbutton your shirt, âI want to appreciate Godâs masterpiece for myself.âÂ
His words had you blushing and you shifted your arms to let him push the scratchy white material from your shoulders and discarded it to the ground. In only a blush pink lace bra underneath, George tried to move back to admire you but your lips chased his pleadingly. He smiled against your mouth between off centered kisses as his fingers raised to the tiny white bow resting between your breasts and he tugged gently at it.Â
âYouâre so cute, angel.â he whispered, pausing to kiss your lips a few more times, âSo pretty.âÂ
You tugged at his belt loops again to urge him closer and your tongue nudged its way ungracefully into his mouth enough to have him groaning softly. His hands grabbed at your waist greedily and you let him press his body flush against yours and the slight bump in his jeans that pressed against your thigh had your heart skipping a beat.Â
âCanât believe such a sweet looking little lady has such salacious thoughts about me. Succumbing to lust so easily.â his thumbs pressed into your hips like wet cement, his hands massaging your waist until you were easing into his touch more and more.Â
âGeorge.â you breathed.Â
âAh, ah.â he corrected coolly.Â
âSir.â you tried.Â
His chuckle stemmed from nothing but desire and it had your pussy fluttering with need for his touch. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip and he soothed it with a lick before grabbing your wrists and led you a few short steps away from his desk and to the centre of his room.
âWhat are you thinking about right now, angel?â George tried, standing in front of you with his large hands holding your own in a tender grip, his eyes unmoving from your face even as you only stared at his tempting lips.Â
âI dunno.â you mumbled out.Â
âYou had some things to say when you were in that confessional booth. I believe youâre thinking lots more than youâre letting on.â George pressed. His thumbs rubbed over your knuckles back and forth tauntingly, âAre you thinking those dirty thoughts again?â
You nodded.Â
âYeah? Are you thinking about what my cock looks like?â
You inhaled shakily, eyelids nearly fluttering. You couldnât lie to him. You couldnât lie to the pastorâs son, not when he was a direct link to God. âYeah.â
George smiled knowingly at you but you couldnât meet his gaze, âGood girl...donât want you lying now. I need to know everything so we can properly cleanse you of your sins. Leave no stone unturned, yeah?â
âYes, sir.â
âYeah, thatâs my good angel.â George raised his hand to stroke his thumb across your flushed cheek, âNow tell me what youâre thinking right now.â
âI donât know.â you whispered, âI just want you to do whatever you want to me.âÂ
âIâm going to have to work your desires and your sins out of you then, wonât I?â George pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it to the ground in front of his closet before starting to unbuckle his belt, âKneel before sir and open your filthy mouth. Iâll cleanse you and then we can really get started.â
You hesitated, glancing down to the hardwood floor beneath your feet, âRight here?â
âYes. You know how to kneel, angel, Iâve seen you do so during mass.â George retorted.Â
âBut thereâs usually a cushioned kneeler.â you argued softly.Â
âThere wonât be cushioned kneelers in hell, angel, and thatâs where youâre going if you donât work with me here.â George warned, his voice dripping in warning, âNow kneel.â
You did.Â
Eye level with his belt buckle, you watched as he unpinned it and then unbuttoned his jeans and dragged down the small zipper. You were barely looking at anything and your mouth was already watering, sitting on your knees patiently as he pushed his jeans down his thighs. The bulge in the front of his snug underwear had your mouth opening habitually and you rose up from sitting back on your ankles to kneeling right in front of him, hands finding his thighs as your mind whirled.Â
George set his finger under your chin and guided your head up to look at his face. He then pinched your cheeks to pry open your mouth and he leaned down to let a thick string of spit fall into your waiting mouth. You couldnât hold in the hungry moan that died at your lips as your tongue accepted his blessing and he smeared his spit across your lips with the pad of his thumb. You were so focused on his face that you didnât even notice his other hand shoving down his boxers to rest at his knees with his jeans, not until his hand that cradled your chin moved to the back of your head and urged you down.Â
Your eyes widened at the sight of his dick right in your face, unlike anything you had made up in your imagination or from the scientific drawings in religiously censored textbooks. Was it at all sane of you to say it was beautiful? He was beautiful. He was already hard and had the slightest curve to his thick impressive length with his pretty rounded tip swollen a gentle rouged pink, peeking out behind a thin protection of foreskin. Your thighs clenched together in lustful desire, the mixture of your spit dripping from your bottom lip onto his bedroom floor.Â
Despite the obvious dominant nature of the pastorâs youngest son who now stood in front of you half nude, he let you take your time to process what was happening. You moved your hand out first, glancing up at him for permission and he nodded you on, hiking up the bottom of his button-up out of your way as he watched you wrap your fingers around the base of his dick. It was warm and you whimpered softly.Â
âOpen up those pretty lips, angel.â George said gently.Â
You followed his instruction.Â
âTongue out.âÂ
When you let your tongue slip past your parted lips, another string of spit dripped onto the floor. George held his hand to the back of your head and used his other to feed his dick into your mouth slowly. It was heavy against your tongue and you stared up at him with your heart racing in your chest as he pulled your head down in slow time. It was a strange sensation, having your mouth stuffed with dick until you had no choice but to breathe through your nose, unable to speak. He tasted slightly salty and so perfectly soft and warm you couldnât help but let your eyes flutter closed as he helped himself to your mouth.Â
âGood girl.â George spoke down to you lowly. He moved his hand back to his shirt to hold it up out of the way and you took his place around his dick with your own hand, kneeling still as you got used to the unfamiliar feeling.Â
Your spit was leaking down his length and slicked up your hand that held him snugly, letting you move smoothly as you pulled back with your mouth, sucking gently to keep from drooling too much. That only had him groaning and his fingers laced through your hair as he watched you suck lazily at the tip like he was nothing more than an innocent lollipop to give you your sugar fix. You craved him just as strongly after all.Â
George unbuttoned the last two buttons on his shirt and let the sides drape open to let himself have two hands free to pull your hair back from your face. With his bottom lip between his teeth and his dark stare angled down at you over the bridge of his nose, he pulled your mouth down around him deeper once more. You gagged softly as he filled up your mouth and nudged against the back of your throat, your hands gripping onto his thighs tightly.Â
âYeah, this is how we take care of that sinful little mouth of yours.â George spoke sternly down to you, pulling you back by your hair to show you the rhythm he wanted you to mimic.Â
You could only moan softly in agreement, drooling down your chin with how delicious he was as he took up your mouth more and more once again. You never imagined it being so physically filthy with how wet it was, your hand and your mouth smeared in spit and tears pricking your eyes as you dropped down on him again, gagging yourself gladly.Â
âYouâre such a good girl.â George praised from above you.Â
He had the perfect view too, staring down at you on your knees for him like he was yours to worship, you in your pretty little bra that pushed up your breasts like plush heaven and plaid skirt draped politely over your lap. Not to mention his dick in your mouth, feeling how warm and wet you were, drooling for him, moaning for him, sucking him with honest innocence that just made it so much hotter. You were a virgin and that fact only made him want to ruin you.Â
It sounded so incredibly hot, the mix of the wet muffled gags of your mouth and the soft whimpers that vibrated from your throat, only urging him to grip your hair tighter and pull you deeper. Your hands splayed pathetically against his thighs, desperate to hold onto something, choking hard on him as he pushed himself down your throat. Your gargling gags had his head falling back with a deep groan, his fingers tugging at your hair to speed you up, using your mouth in sloppy motions.Â
You didnât protest, letting the tears stream down your cheeks and the spit drip onto the material of your skirt over your lap, trying to keep up with him just to please him. Your eyes blinked up at him, staring up his body to his face scrunched up in pleasure and that silver cross pendant resting between his pecs. It moved slightly with each jagged breath he took, taunting you, reminding you that God is always watching.Â
Just thinking, He was watching you at that very moment, Georgeâs dick balls deep in your mouth; the same mouth that had earlier tried to ask for forgiveness from Him. That was in no way the act of you being forgiven. How did you get there?Â
Despite the shame that was lingering in your stomach, you couldnât get yourself to stop, drunk on the taste of him and the concept of worshiping his body the way you had only ever dreamt about. Your hands dug your nails into his thighs, bobbing your head faster down his whole length despite how your throat constricted and gagged.Â
âThatâs it, angel-â George panted, âAh, youâre doing so good.â
It felt so wrong but his words sounded so good. He was as tempting as the forbidden fruit and there was no going back now; confessions had already been said. You wanted all of him.Â
His left hand dropped to your cheek and he tugged at your cheek with the pad of his thumb, âMm, youâre being so good for me. Taking it so well. Look at you.â
Your hand moved from his thigh to the base of his dick, holding him still as your mouth worked for you and his grip in your hair helped you along. George groaned steadily as you sped up, choking yourself on him harder and faster and he twitched in your mouth.Â
âFuck, angel-â his words were dripping lust, each syllable lengthened in the most addicting way until you wanted to hear him moan for you and praise you forever. If this was so frowned upon then - he was right - why did it feel so good? And to think, you hadnât even been touched yourself.Â
George was getting loud, moaning and breathing hard as his hands stayed tangled in your hair that had once been hairsprayed perfectly for confession. You could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth until you were wrapping your hand around him to stroke him off, seemingly unable to get enough of him. What George had on his mind though, was nothing less than fixing you and the fact that you still had your penance to uphold.Â
His left hand gave your hair a good tug, yanking your head back until his dick pulled from your mouth with a filthy pop and you gasped in surprise, coughing and sputtering for air. He held you in place by your hair, smearing the tip of his cock against your glistening lips but didnât give you the satisfaction of putting it back in against your tongue.Â
You whined pleadingly, trying to pull out of his stiff grip to take him back in your mouth, âSir, please.â
George was adamant on his decision, his free hand stroking over his cock in quick rapid flicks of his wrist, âSinners donât get the pleasure of swallowing.âÂ
Your hands held onto his thighs, eyes unable to choose between looking at his face or his throbbing dick right in front of you. His bedroom welcomed the filthy wet slick sound of his hand working himself off like it was habit, his breathing falling shallower by the second, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. You looked so eager and innocent that it didnât take him long to finish, catching that last glimpse of your doe eyes and parted lips before the first shot of warm sticky cum streaked across your cheek.Â
His moans were like angels singing, setting your body on fire as he covered your face in filthy white ribbons of sin. You looked like a heavenly mess, pink cheeks streaked in tears and cum and spit still dripping from your chin until he was completely finished. George smeared some of it over your lips with the tip of his dick and let you earn your first taste of him right from the source, blessed by the fruit of his holy garden.Â
He watched you lick your lips, eyes staying closed with the shots that had stained up to your eyelashes and into your hair, and then he grabbed the edge of his open shirt and wiped your face clean. You couldnât bite back your fulfilled smile well enough, swiping your hand across your cheek and licking off the remanence of his pleasure with an eager tongue.Â
âWhere are your manners, angel?â George tisked.Â
âThank you, sir.â you whispered up at him, still perched sweetly on your knees in front of him as you sucked on your finger, âYou taste so good.âÂ
âAre you still thinking disgusting little thoughts?â he asked.Â
âMore than ever.â you admitted softly.Â
Georgeâs hand grabbed your cheeks to keep you looking up at him and then slid down just enough to wrap his fingers around your throat, âLike what?â
âLike wanting you to touch me so fucking bad.â you whispered.Â
âWatch your mouth, angel.â George scolded. âSwearing is a sin. You know that.âÂ
âSorry, sir.â you breathed.Â
George grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet in front of him before turning you around and shoved you forward over the end of his bed. You tried to move but he held you down by the back of your neck and tossed up your skirt with his other hand, giving him room to spank you over your soft pink panties. You shrieked in surprise at the impact, fingers curling into his duvet as your feet stayed planted on the hardwood floor.Â
âHands flat on the bed. Arms straight.â George ordered.Â
You were one to follow his instruction and did as told without complaint as he stripped out of his jeans and boxers to leave him only in his open button up and cross necklace. Bent over the end of his bed with your arms straight underneath you, you had a perfect view up to his headboard, right where a carefully carved wooden cross was hung on the blue painted wall above.Â
âOh my goodness.â you whispered, more to yourself than anyone.Â
âYouâre going to take your penance for your sins, angel?â George taunted, folding up the hem of your skirt to reveal your bum.Â
It was worded like a question but it sounded more like a demand. You replied shakily, âYes, sir.âÂ
He slapped his hand down hard against your skin and you bit down hard into your bottom lip behind a soft whimper at the sharp sting he left behind.Â
âYeah? We gotta get rid of those filthy disgusting devilish thoughts of yours. Make sure theyâre gone for good.âÂ
There was a pause and you filled the momentary silence with a soft, âYes, sir.âÂ
Georgeâs hand grabbed your ass and kneaded your flesh in his palm, âYou better ask for mercy, angel.â
The brown leather bound bible surprisingly stung a lot more than his handâmaybe from the emotional weight it carried with itâand you shrieked at the impact, hanging your head between your arms. He spanked you with it again, really pulling his arm back to hit you hard, leaving a blush pink shine to the curve of your flesh.Â
âHeâs listening.â George reminded you gently but sternly.Â
âForgive me, Father.â you hurried out before George spanked you hard again. âOh God!âÂ
Another slap with the book.Â
âDonât use His name in vain.â George scolded.Â
Tears pricked your eyes as he spanked you again, forcing a blubbery choked moan from your throat. So you used his name instead, âGeorge, please. Touch me. Rid these shameful thoughts from my head.â
âWhat thoughts?â he urged you on.Â
âIt aches-â you whimpered distractedly, reaching a hand down to press over the front of your panties.Â
George spanked you hard once more with the bible before letting his hand slide between your legs. He nudged your fingers away as he took over, gliding back and forth over the thin sopping wet material and right up to your clit.Â
âRight here, angel?â he asked soothingly.Â
âYes, sir.â you withered.Â
âYeah, does that feel good?â his fingers drew lazy circles in place that had you shivering.Â
You stared down at his bed sheets, mouth agape, and gently pushed back on his hand, âYes, sir.âÂ
âYouâve soaked your pretty little panties, angel.â George tisked softly, rubbing his fingers in long stripes back and forth over the fabric that covered your pussy, âNo wonder youâre aching.âÂ
He was barely touching you but somehow it felt so much better than when you tried yourself. Your legs were almost trembling in desperate anticipation as he teased you over your underwear in feather soft touches and you let your eyes close to bask in it, bottom lip between your teeth.Â
âTurn over, pretty girl.â George instructed. âIâm gonna show you what it means to be touched by the hands of God.âÂ
His cocky words did nothing but urge you on. You shifted around from your hands and knees so you were sitting on his bed facing him, eyeing up how he was only in his open button up and nothing else and holding the leather bound bible in hand. He was staring right back at you like a county fair prize from your flushed cheeks to your heaving chest and your thighs pressed snugly together.Â
George tossed the bible back onto the desk behind him and then stepped up closer to the end of his bed where you were sat. He nudged up your skirt again and linked his fingers in the sides of your panties and pulled them down your legs and onto the floor. Shyly, you kept your thighs pressed snugly together. No one had ever before seen you so exposed and as he started to undress you, you were filled with a sudden shyness. George greedily grabbed your knees and shoved your legs apart.Â
âSpread your legs for me, angel. Let me see your pretty pussy.â George whispered.Â
His vulgar words had your eyes widening but you obeyed him anyway, an embarrassed blush rising darker to your cheeks as you exposed yourself to him. The first man to see you like that, the first man to look at you in that light, and the way he licked his lips at the sight of you had you throbbing.Â
âSo natural.â George breathed, âSo pure.âÂ
His stare was intimidating, big blue eyes trained in on your most intimate spot, a spot that you were raised to be protective of, shamed. You watched him closely, your chest heaving faintly in anticipation, waiting for some sort of reaction out of him as if you craved his validation. Georgeâs large hands were warm against the flesh of your thighs as he pushed your legs apart wider and then nudged up the hem of your skirt around your waist to see you better.Â
âThe Lord took His time on you.â George said, his voice dripping with lust. âNow back up for me, angel.â
You shuffled farther onto his bed, keeping your legs spread how he left them, not wanting to go against any of his demands. He was helping you repent, after all, so you had to listen and obey. As you settled yourself near the centre of his double bed, George followed after you, kneeling in front of you on the mattress. He pulled his shirt from his shoulders and dropped the material to the floor without a look back, letting himself be exposed to your desire completely.Â
The tattoo on his chest drew in your eyes right away, the black ink carefully forming the shape of the hands from The Creation of Adam right over his heart. God had created George in the same image as he had created Adam; perfect, raw, masculine, and ready to carry the word of the Lord. Although, both creations seemed just as eager to disobey their creator.Â
The deadly sin of greed coursed through your veins as you tried to soak in each and every curve and angle of his body, that shameful warmth building a throbbing in the pit of your stomach that was hard to avoid. Without thinking, you breathed out a dreamy, âYouâre soâŠbeautiful.âÂ
âYou think so?â George smiled cockily as he nudged your legs father open to kneel between. His fingers toyed with the little bow on the band of your bra right between your breasts.
You barely nodded in response before his hand was reaching around your back and unclipping your bra with expert precision. The lace was tossed to the ground and in a split second, his mouth took its place, covering you in wet open mouthed kisses across your breasts and over your hardening nipples. His hungry moan against your skin had your mouth falling open lazily, tangling one hand in his hair as he helped himself to your chest while your other held you up in the centre of his double bed.
You hadnât anticipated this. For all you had been aware, the only thing to ever touch a womanâs chest was to be her baby for nourishment reasons and that alone. But then George was wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking on it with enough force to pull a gasp from your chest, your fingers snug in the back of his soft hair. Your soft gasp had him smirking and he shifted to your other breast, his teeth tugging playfully at your nipple while he raised one hand to knead the flesh of your chest, claiming you up until your chest had a light sheen of spit across it.Â
âSo good.â George mumbled, pulling off your breast with a wet suctioned pop. His fingers pinched both of your nipples as he shifted out from between your legs and settled at your side.Â
You couldnât help but lean over to kiss him, sighing pleasantly into it as his lips locked perfectly with yours in messy wet kisses. His hand raised to cradle your face, keeping you there for a moment longer as he bit at your bottom lip and tugged it back gently. He licked his way into your mouth between sloppy kisses, making you feel so incredibly salacious and wrong but in a way that still felt so good. It was dizzying.Â
As he broke away from your kiss, his hand dropped down to your thigh, his gaze quickly following, and he pushed up the hem of your skirt over your spread legs. The cool air of his air conditioned bedroom against your soaked pussy made you shiver and you watched his fingers dance teasingly over your thigh. He traced the hem of your knee-high socks and then slid up higher, dipping along the soft skin of your inner thigh. So untouched and sensitive to his every graze.Â
George was sitting so close at your side he barely needed to lean in to whisper against the shell of your ear, âIâm gonna show you how to touch yourself so when youâre thinking filthy little thoughts again, you can make that pestering little ache go away.â
âPlease, sir.â you breathed, your voice quivering with desire.Â
George chuckled softly and kept his steady strokes over your thigh, up and down, teasingly slow and taunting, and his words only matched it, âYouâre gonna think of me touching you just like this, up your thighs and over your hips.â
His slender fingers followed the instruction of his words, dancing over your legs and up to your hips, teasing the bunched up fabric of your plaid skirt and down to the apex of your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, staring down at his hand, watching, anticipating.Â
âAnd when you canât take it anymore,â he whispered against your ear, âyouâre going to push your pretty little fingers over your pussy.â
You could have shuddered at only his words but as you watched his hand slide down between your legs, your breath froze in your chest. He dragged painfully slow stripes down and back up again with two fingers, teasing every inch of your cunt right up to your clit and back down. Your eyebrows raised at the unfamiliar sensation, a shaky inhale pulled into your lungs, as your ears were attuned to the sticky wetness of your body just like that.Â
âAnd when youâre nice and wetâŠlike how you are nowâŠyouâre gonna touch your clit just like this,â Georgeâs fingers pressing down against your most sensitive spotâthe spot you had never had the courage to exploreâhad you jolting with a gasp but he hushed you against your ear with ease mid-thought, âdonât squirm, angelâand youâre gonna think of me while you do it.â
âGeorge-â you whimpered, staring down at his hand between your legs, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as he drew slow circles over your clit. You couldnât hold in your soft, âOh my God.â
âLouder, angel. Heâs listening.â George whispered right under your ear, his breath hot against your neck.Â
His fingers pulled quicker circles, forcing another trembling gasp from your throat as your body habitually tried to squirm away from the unfamiliar overwhelm and your thighs squeezed together. George easily shoved your legs open wider, staring right at your profile as he kept that consistent pace on your clit and you tried to stay spread for him. It felt insanely good, ripping hot warmth through every limb in your body, unlike anything you had ever felt before, until your mouth was dropping open and your eyes were nearly rolling back in your head.Â
âS-Sir-â you whimpered, holding yourself up on one hand as your other reached out for him beside you to grab onto something and ended up holding onto his cross pendant still draped between his pecs.Â
âIs this what you wanted?â George taunted, pressing his fingers down harder on your clit in tighter circles, âOr did you want more?â
You nodded quickly, absolutely speechless with the realization of how good it felt and how long you had put it off. Watching his fingers intently, you could barely get yourself to make a sound, too embarrassed and overwhelmed to even know how to react.Â
George stopped his circles and pinched your clit gently to make you squeal as he quoted scripture against your ear, âAsk, and it will be given to you. Matthew 7:7.â
âMore. I want more. Gimme more.â you rushed out, dropping your hand from his necklace just long enough to urge his fingers lower, your insides physically aching for something else.Â
âThereâs a bit of greed coming in with your sinful little lust.â George chuckled, reminding you of the deadly sins you were committing, âAt least have some manners, angel.â
âPlease, sir.â you exhaled pleadingly, holding his hand down against your throbbing pussy.Â
George shifted to sit behind you and tugged you close so you were resting back against his chest between his spread legs like you were his little dolly to play with. The embarrassment was overpowered by lustful desire and you didnât even care how pathetic you looked with your flushed cheeks and heaving chest and legs hooking over his to leave yourself spread wide. Georgeâs lips found your neck as he pulled your skirt up with his left hand and slid his right between your legs once more.Â
âThis likely wonât feel as good when you do it to yourself but since you wanted this so badâŠI must help you to uphold your penance.â he said between slow kisses over your shoulder, his fingers slicking themselves up in your arousal that was dripping out of you and onto his duvet. Back and forth, back and forth. âGonna give you what you want and rid those sinful thoughts from that pretty little head of yours.â
You could only spread your legs wider between his, trying to push your hips up against his painfully gentle touch, and his left hand raised from your skirt to grab onto your right breast snugly. He was nearly holding you in place that way and you stared down your body to his slender fingers teasing slow circles over your dripping cunt. There was no warning before he slid his middle finger entirely inside you.Â
You gasped loudly, mouth fallen open, and your hands gripped onto his thighs on either side of you. Georgeâs soft groan fell against your ear as he slowly started to pump his finger inside you, biting his lip at how tight you were around only a single digit. He had shamelessly taken many church girlsâ virginities like that but none of them ever felt or sounded as good as you before he even got inside them properly. You were something else and he craved to savour each second.Â
âGood girl.â he praised against your neck, leaving soft kisses over your skin, âDeep breaths, angel.â
You inhaled shakily and on the exhale he added his ring finger into the clutch of your warm wet walls. Your face scrunched up at the unfamiliar stretch and your hand flew down to grab his wrist as if to stop him, but he only yanked your hand away with his other, gripping your wrist in his hand, and started pumping his two fingers inside you.Â
Voice quivering, you whimpered out a strained, âHoly sh-shit-âÂ
Despite your curse, George only smirked and curled his fingers steadily inside you, âFeels good doesn't it?â
âYes, sir.â you whined, staring down at his hand between your legs that pumped inside you quickly to push the filthy wet squelching sounds of your body taking his invasion around his room.Â
The black band on his right hand ring finger reflected the afternoon sunlight streaked in through the open window. The faint engraving of a cross and his three initials around the band caught your eye in the slight blur of his motions. GWR in small font, a good strong Christian name in first and middle, and now taken to deface your purity and the very symbol that the ring itself stood for.Â
George held your arm around your body to keep you in place as his two fingers pushed stronger in and out of you, soaking themselves greedily in your arousal. You withered softly with the sweetest sounds, gripping his thigh with the hand he wasnât pinning to your chest and watching him help himself to your body. He sped up quickly though, shoving his fingers into you in rapid motions, faster and faster. You moaned shakily, wincing through the unfamiliar stretch but letting your mouth fall open at how good it somehow felt. It was completely overwhelming and you tried to squeeze your legs together to ease some of the rush that was flooding over your body, panting for air and whining and squirming in his grip.Â
âShh, thatâs it. Spread your legs, angel.â George praised softly, slowing down to let you open your legs again. He linked his ankles over yours to prevent you from closing your legs again and his fingers easily picked up the pace once more. They fucked into you quickly with an aggression that looked far more painful than it actually felt as his two slender fingers were simply pushing shots of indescribable pleasure through your body.Â
âGeorge!â you gasped, trying to move again but he held you down. You whimpered loudly, straining against his tight grip as he kept his fingers shoving quickly into you again and again, filling the room with the filthy wet sound of your pussy gladly taking his fingers. âS-Sir! Oh my God!âÂ
âLouder. He can hear you.â George spoke lowly against your ear, his own breathing slightly shallow as he fingered you faster.Â
âFuck!â you sobbed out, tossing your head back against his shoulder as your eyes screwed shut and toes started to curl in your socks.Â
âGive into it, angel.â George breathed, his eyes focused on nothing but your face, the way your expression fell into ecstasy. His fingers ravaged your body, moving at such a great speed it could only be compared to the rapid flutter of angel wings.
When he let go of your arm, you immediately grabbed onto his thighs, digging your nails down through your trembling uncontrollable whimpers. His left hand then slid between your legs and pressed down on your clit to give you that greedy little bit of friction as his right hand ravished you at unbelievable speeds.Â
âOh my gosh! Oh my God!â you sobbed out, tossing your right arm up to grab onto his hair over your shoulder, tugging roughly at the roots and he groaned deliciously against your ear, setting your insides ablaze, âFuck!âÂ
âGood girl.â George growled softly.Â
âOh fuck!â you swore to the ceiling, head tossed back against his bare shoulder as his fingers rammed into you harder, faster, more persistently.Â
âGive into it. Donât hold back.â George instructed behind the filthy wet smacks of his soaked fingers and palm meeting your dripping body.Â
âWhatâs h-happening?â you cried shakily, your thighs starting to tremble and your skin flushed hot with pleasure. You felt tight all over, like your body was coiling in on itself. It felt like Satan had his hand on you, pulling you to some unimaginable place that you would never come back from.Â
âYouâre gonna cum, angel.â George whispered softly against your ear, keeping that same insane consistently rapid pace of his fingers, his voice sounding almost echoey against your ear as he reassured you, âGive into the pleasure.â
Your muscles were tightening around his fingers and you were getting dizzy with overwhelm, feeling every single inch of his slender fingers buried deep inside you contrasted by the cool metal of his ring that pushed against your warm lips with each rough thrust of his hand. You couldnât stop shaking, moaning and whimpering so loudly that you were lucky his house was empty, and you tugged at his hair and his thigh for some hint of solace.Â
âGeorge!â you cried, âGeorge! Sir-â
Your heels dug into the sheets beneath you, trying to push your trembling body away from his overwhelming touch. He gripped you by your hips tighter as your legs physically shook, holding you down on his hand as he fucked his fingers into you faster, relentlessly. In a second, you were falling perfectly silent and your head arched onto his shoulder with your eyes nearly rolling back in your head. Â
It felt like a resurrection came over you, pulling your soul from your body as waves of pleasure tore through you. You could only try to breathe, gripping onto him as he fingered you right through your orgasm despite how you trembled underneath his control. It only got wetter, soaking your pussy, his fingers, and his duvet in your juices that leaked with each movement of his hand between your legs.Â
You finally gasped for breath after having your entire body tensed and silenced with pleasure, echoing a blissful moan to the ceiling as your nails dug into both of his thighs. Your head fell forward and your eyes scrunched shut as you trembled with overwhelm and reached a hand down to grab his wrist and slow his rough movements down.Â
âOkay, okay, okay- oh my...GodâŠâ you panted, your voice quivering.Â
George let a soft chuckle fall against your neck and his lips followed in a gentle kiss to your skin. He finally pulled his fingers out of you and cupped his hand down nice and snug over your pussy until you were pushing his hand away with over sensitivity. His left hand raised to your throat and eased your head back onto his shoulder so he could lean in and kiss your lips, sharing sloppy breathless open mouthed kisses between you as your eyes struggled to even stay open.Â
You were nearly limp between his legs but the obvious poke of his erection pressing against the small of your back had you licking your lips with unwavering desire for even more of him. He had been the catalyst for the awakening of your sin called lust that overtook you. Both the catalyst and the fuel that now kept this overpowering sensation going. You wanted all of him even if his simple touch sparked tremors of overwhelm through your body.Â
When he pulled back from your lips, you tried to follow, leaning in after him with a pleading little whimper until he gave you his fingers instead. His big blue eyes watched as you silently permitted his two fingers in your mouth, your eyebrows furrowing slightly at the taste of yourself that grazed your tongue.Â
âTastes like heaven, huh?â George taunted.Â
You could barely nod, sucking gently on his fingers for a few more seconds before he pulled them from your mouth and a string of spit dripped down your chin.Â
âTurn over, angel.â he instructed as he shifted out from behind you.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you mumbled as you shifted over onto your stomach.Â
âWe have one more step left in your penance until youâll be free from your sin.â George explained as he situated himself to kneel on the mattress and he pulled you closer across the sheets by your hips. âYou said you wanted me to bend you over and fuck you? Making you moan until Heaven can hear you?â
Your pussy pulsed at his words and you smothered a soft anticipatory moan into his duvet. You werenât sure how much you could even take but despite the lingering sensitivity from your very first orgasm, you still craved more of him. After having his dick in your mouth it was only fair to give the rest of your body its turn.Â
The silent filthy argument that your mind offered had you flushing pink into the sheets and you looked over your shoulder at him. George grabbed your hips and pulled your ass up so you were kneeling and bent forward onto the bed. His hand came down hard on your flesh and you yelped in surprise, wincing as he did it again and the metal of his ring stung your skin.Â
âAnswer me.â he ordered, his voice warm and firm.
You responded without hesitation, your voice foreign to you, âYes, sir.âÂ
George got himself situated, kneeling between your spread legs, and he swiped his hand along your dripping pussy and smeared your excess liquids all over you just to make you more of a mess before using his slicked up hand to stroke his dick.Â
âDonât we needâŠa c-condom or something?â you asked shakily.Â
âContraceptives are a sin, angel.â George explained coolly, âI donât think you need anything else added to your list of things to ask forgiveness for.â
âNo, sir.â you breathed.Â
âWeâre going to start with something God wonât smite you too much over.âÂ
You rested yourself on your forearms with your back ached for him as his hand slid down your spine and rested between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. You glanced back at him over your shoulder just as he dragged his fingers through your soaking wet pussy and right up to the tight muscle of your asshole just above. His simple touch had you gasping as he smeared your wetness around and prodded gently at your hole.Â
âGeorgeâŠâ you spoke warningly, uncertainty present in your wavering voice. âSirâŠI donât think-â
He ignored you, grabbing two handfuls of your flesh and spread you open to lean down and let a thick dribble of saliva fall between your cheeks. Your eyes widened at the sensation, shutting you up expertly. Without lube or a condom, he slicked you up the best he could, finishing with a messy spit into his palm and a few more quick strokes to his dick. The feeling of the tip of his dick being angled against your asshole had you gripping the sheets nervously but you stayed perfectly still for him, waiting with bated breath for a feeling you didnât know how to expect.Â
âJust breathe, angel.â George cooed softly, setting one hand on your hip to keep you in place.Â
You exhaled just as he started to push slowly inside you, stretching your tight hole open around his thick girth and nearly ripping indescribable pain right through your body. Your face screwed up in discomfort, breath freezing in your chest, and a trembling whimper fell from your throat.Â
âOw-â you choked out, fingers bunching around the sheets until your knuckles were turning white, âOw, ow, ow, wait-â
âYouâre being such a good girl.â George praised breathily, still pushing slowly into you. His thumbs tugged at your flesh to spread you open some more and he dropped another thick string of spit down to where you were connected, trying to help make himself slide a little easier. He cleaned up his lips with a lick and then bit the bottom one snugly as he watched himself bottom out inside you, his deep groan sending shivers up your spine. âYouâre so fucking tight, angel. Youâre so good.âÂ
âIt hurts really bad.â you mumbled, tears stinging your eyes.Â
âJust for a second.â George assured you before easing a short way out of you and then pushing back in. âItâs gonna feel so fucking good, angel, I promise.âÂ
You swore your entire body was burning in pain but you trusted his words. Somehow everything he said just came out so reassuring and believable, like he was a direct messenger from the Lord. It felt easy with him but it felt so wrong too, bent over on his bed in the filthiest of ways.Â
You knew the concept of âGodâs Loopholeâ well from church camps where other teenagers made dirty jokes around the campfire about how sodomy was the one way to still guarantee a pass to heaven by avoiding true premarital sex. Hearing those things shocked you in the years passed but now, it all seemed to make sense. It was the best of both worlds: getting George and still getting your salvation.Â
The talk seemed so much more casual than the act as you found yourself struggling to piece together if it was uncomfortable pain or pure overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. He gave you another slow thrust, his large hands gripping your hips until you were sure his ring was leaving intents in your skin. It would have been almost unbearable if it werenât for his deep beautiful moans that fell from his chest everytime he pushed his hips right up against the curve of your bum and they honestly made the tight friction worth it.Â
George pushed the bottom of your short skirt up again and hand came down hard on your cheek in a loud spank, enough for you to drop your forehead down against the duvet with a shaky groan, your fists gripping the sheets. He held you in place and started to pull you into each thrust, his eyes unwavering from your tight little hole and how perfectly stretched it stayed around his thick cock. It was erotic and he couldnât help himself but shove a little harder into you.Â
âSirâŠâ you whimpered out, arching your back lower for him without even realizing it.Â
âGood girl.â George smirked down to you even though you couldnât see him. He could sense you succumbing to it, adjusting to the invasion, and his hand slid down your back to grab a fistfull of your hair as he sped up slightly, thrusting into you a bit faster.Â
âOh-â you gasped out shakily, scrunching your eyes closed tightly as you tried to focus on the pleasure in the pain, face smothered into the mattress.Â
âSuch a good little whore for sir.â George praised lowly, tugging at your hair to lift your head up, forcing you to stare straight ahead at the wooden carved cross on the wall above his bed as he shoved into you steadily. âAnd a good little angel for the Lord, arenât you?âÂ
âYes, sir.â you tumbled out.Â
âYeah?âÂ
âMore.â you blurted out.Â
âHarder or faster?â
âI-I donât know!â you whimpered.Â
George chuckled lowly from behind you, fucking into you harder and faster, pushing a trembling groan from your throat as he held your hair back in his tight fist. You were so wet that his childhood bedroom was easily picking up the filthy slap of his balls on your cunt, only making your eyes nearly flutter close with disgusting bliss as all your senses focused on him. It reeked of sex in his room but it didnât phase either of you as he gripped you tighter and fucked into you harder.Â
âO-Oh fuck,â you cried out, face contorting in pleasure, âOh fuck!â
âThatâs it, angel.â George grunted, his skin slapping hard against yours, trying to speak through his rough breaths and beautiful deep moans, âGotta make this quick so I can take you home. Made up some little lie that we were getting some extra bible study inâŠyour parents will never suspect that their innocent little angel is being fucked up the ass.â
âPlease-â you sobbed, not quite knowing what you were trying to ask for, clutching the sheets tighter as your eyes screwed shut. âShit.âÂ
George slid his hand from your hair to the front of your neck and pulled your head up higher by a tight grip on your throat. With his lips against the shell of your ear, his breaths were sending shivers down your spine, and you arched back for him greedily for more.Â
âNaughty little angel.â George growled against your ear, holding you in place by your throat as his other hand spanked you hard again before sliding down to play with your pussy a little, rubbing over your folds as he fucked your ass nice and rough, honestly making your hand slap down on the mattress.Â
âPlease, sir! Gimme it!â you cried out, letting him ram the syllables from your throat.Â
âShit, angelâŠfuck.â George groaned, shoving two fingers back into your pussy and thrusted them in rapid time with his hips, only increasing the soaking wet sounds that squelched through the bedroom. âShit, youâre soakedâŠso fucking wet.â
âYes, sir! Yes, sir-r-r, o-oh my-â
âSay it. Heâs listening.â
Georgeâs fingers sped up as his body slowed down to a stop and he watched your muscles clench around his dick as your cunt took his second vicious attack from his glorious fingers.Â
âOh my G-God!â you finally squealed, bending lower for him despite the grip he had on your throat.Â
âFuck this.â George huffed impatiently and pulled his fingers out of you suddenly, leaving you to shriek at the sudden stillness. He yanked your head back by your throat again so he could speak lowly right into your ear, his voice thick and low, âYou want my fat cock in your sweet little pussy?â
You couldnât even answer for a moment with how stunningly filthy and desirable those words sounded coming out of his swollen pink lips. All you could manage in reply was a pleading moan of, âMmm, yes.â
âBeg.â he ordered. âTell me you want me to fuck the sin out of you.â
Your once censored mind was nothing but a mess of filthy desire and you let the devil speak for you from your innocent mouth, âPlease, sir. Please fuck me. Need your dick so fucking badâŠneed it so deepâŠâ
George eased out of your ass, leaving a bit of a gaping hole staring back at him that he slipped his left thumb into to not leave you painfully empty. You withered for him, wiggling your hips back temptingly and he spanked you with his right hand.Â
âYouâre going to have to go to confession and beg for forgiveness from the Lord daily if I fuck your pretty pussy. You know premarital sex is one of the greatest sins of all.â George explained as he tauntingly dragged the tip of his leaking dick between your lips.Â
Yes, you knew that well. You knew that to take your virginity back properly you may even need to be re-baptized - and what would your family think of that - but in that moment, all that mattered was him filling your deepest desires. You craved him in the deepest part of your soul and the deepest part of your body.Â
âI donât care, I need you inside me!â you cried out, louder than you needed to, and tried to push back on him desperately.Â
His hand gripped tighter to the sides of your throat and you fell silent as he shushed you soothingly and pressed the head of his dick just inside you to make you gasp with the slightest taste of that beautiful stretch, âIâll give you what you want, angel.â
âPlease.â you breathed, scrunching your eyes closed in anticipation.Â
George pushed into you a little more until he reached some resistance from your body. His fingers had done a good job in preparing you somewhat but, for your first time, it was expected that it wouldnât suddenly make it easy. You whimpered at the sting that the gentle nudge of his cock hinted between your legs, your body tensing up.
âDeep breaths for me now, angel.â he purred, stroking your hair, âNice, deep breaths.â
You took a full, shaky breath, and he took that moment to force himself a little deeper. Your inhale was cut off by a pained cry, eyes screwing shut, feeling him forcing himself into your untouched body. He was patient with you, easing into you in slow shallow thrusts despite the way tears welled in your eyes at the ache it pushed over your hips and right between your legs.Â
His thick girth and impressive length caused the wetness that dripped out of you to squish filthily as he pushed himself inside all the way. There was a pause and George let out an audible withering moan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head with how beautifully warm, wet, and tight you were around him, squeezing him so tightly he was sure he had never seen the presence of God until that very moment.Â
âOhhh, fuck.â he swore breathily, keeping his thumb in your ass as his dick filled your pussy to the hilt. His deep groan reverberated through your mind and your jaw fell slack with the pleasure of even simply hearing him, using that as a distraction from the physical strain. His other hand gave your hip a squeeze, muttering out a barely audible, âThere we goâŠâ
Then, George barely gave you a second to admire that fulfilling stretch, before he was pulling out and ramming back into you hard. You groaned loudly, eyes fluttering at his intensity as he did it again. His hand pulled his thumb from your ass and he held a two-handed grip on your hips to tug you back into each quick thrust. Your mouth was hanging open with shocked bliss, nearly drooling out the side of your mouth at how good he felt taking you from behind.Â
He spanked you again, slapping his large hand down hard right across the pink tinted flesh of your ass, and then propped up one foot flat on the mattress for leverage. His speed and aggression was indescribable and a pitchy moan fell from your lips.Â
âOhh my God!â you shrieked through his room, the pain melting quickly into pleasure as your body accommodated him, drunk on the feeling of having him all. Your voice shook with the overwhelming pleasurable tears welling in your eyes, âYes, yes, yes, sir, yes!â
Unexpectedly, just as you had started to properly enjoy it and how much you wanted him to keep going, to keep blessing you with this new form of rebirth, he pulled right out of you. You cried out in pleading protest but he didnât wait a second before grabbing your waist and flipping you right over onto your back. He shoved up your skirt again and pushed open your legsâwideâas he spoke down to you through his teeth, âI wanna see your pretty little faceâŠwanna see my angelâs beautiful, pathetic heavenly tears.â
âSir-â you whined, reaching down to grab his wrist as he was lining his dick back up between your legs. The faint streaks of blood on his dick from when he broke your hymen were barely acknowledged by you, far too focused on getting back to the unexplainable feeling of being stretched by him, âPut it in. Put it in.âÂ
He shoved back inside you in one swift thrust and your head tossed back against his bed with a heavenly moan. He starting fucking into you quickly again, his hands rested strongly on the duvet on either side of your head as his eyes stared down lustfully at your flushed face.Â
âAh fuck-â you whimpered, the word cutting off right at the end as George dipped down to kiss you and bite at your bottom lip. You moaned hungrily into his mouth, tangling your hand in the back of his hair as he thrusted into you messily. Your fingers raked over his shoulder blades, pulling angry red scratches over his back, struggling to keep kissing him like that when he took you over so easily.Â
After a moment, George leaned back, knelt between your legs and he pushed your thighs up towards your chest and outwards, spreading you wide to give himself plenty of room to fuck you. It was a near miracle that your socks hadnât slipped down from where they rested at your knees and as George held one of your thighs in place, his other hand grabbed a handful of your sock on your other leg.Â
His gaze was captured by your soaked pussy and how it nearly pulled him in with each thrust he gave you, watching how you coated him in your liquids more and more each time he pulled back. There was something so mind numbingly addicting about you and the pureness you exuded that made him want to ruin you and claim you completely. Especially in your skirt and knee-high socks. You were effortlessly and innocently sexy. Your sweet moans and whimpers made his mind spin.Â
âLordâŠhave mercy on me.â George muttered, leaning over you a little more to hit deeper, one hand falling heavily against the mattress beside your head, causing his silver cross necklace to dangle above you tauntingly. âPussyâs so fucking creamy-â
His filthy words and his obvious reaction to your body only spurred you on, hands gripping around to his back as he fucked you into his bed. He wasnât going as hard as he was going fast and his pendant was nearly hitting you in the chin with each thrust. You couldnât help yourself as your last sliver of polite Christian sanity dissolved from your existence and you opened your mouth to take the metal cross between your teeth.Â
âForgive me.â you muttered shakily up to heaven, bending your legs back farther as Georgeâs grip tightened on your thighs and he stared down at his necklace in your mouth and shoved into you harder to make you squeal another blissful, âForgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me-âÂ
He was going harder now, lost in your pleas and your vice-like grip of your cunt, and he fucked you so strongly the headboard was starting to hit the wall. Thud, thud, thud, in time with your heavy breaths and equal groans, nearly shaking the wooden crucifix that hung over his bed right off the wall. You were whimpering underneath him, his cross pendant between your teeth until the metallic taste filled your mouth and your eyes stared up at him longingly.Â
âHow does it feel, angel?â George spoke down to you darkly, moving a hand from gripping your knee sock to grab a snug handful of one of your breasts as they bounced in time with his rough thrusts, âWhat if your parents saw you like this, hm? Getting your tight little virgin pussy fucking pounded? Theyâll certainly send you away to boarding school to set you straightâŠtrying to scold the lustful slut out of you.â
âGeorgeâŠâ you sobbed out, gripping your nails down the side of his back as you clung onto him desperately, âSir-â
âNo, no. I got you. Iâm going to set you straight myself.â George said through his teeth, fucking into you in rough consistent thrusts until his double bed creaked steadily underneath you, âGive you just what you want so those filthy little sinful thoughts are gone for good.âÂ
âPlease, please, please-â you begged, trying to slide your legs around his waist but he leaned back and grabbed your thighs again to hold you open.Â
He didnât stop, only finding a different angle to thrust inside you harder and the tip of his cock nudged against a certain spot deep inside you that made you nearly see stars. You fell perfectly silent for a moment, mouth falling open and his necklace dropping from your lips as your eyes nearly rolled back into your head and your hands wrapped tightly around his biceps. He fucked little gasps out of you, shoving right into that perfect spot that left you breathless until you could hardly even wrap your mind around the pleasure.Â
âYes.â you squeaked out, âFuck! Yes, yes, yes-âÂ
You were sure his grip on your thighs was going to leave bruises but George didnât care...in fact, he would have loved to see you marked up by him. He never realized how much he had been holding out for you but finally being able to have you in his bed and have your body to himself, he was nearly in blissful heaven. You were so tight and warm and he was ravishing your body until he was sure he was about to lose it far too soon if he didnât slow down.Â
With a huff, he pulled out of you completely, breaking your silence as you heaved in air with a sob. He licked his hand and rubbed his fingers over your messy pussy to smear around the dripping wetness that leaked out of you and to stimulate you a little more. You whimpered at the emptiness, grabbing him by his silver chain to pull him back towards you pleadingly.Â
He slid the length of his aching cock between your folds as he leaned down to kiss you, rubbing up against your clit and between your lips as you found heaven in his tongue. You shared strong moans between sloppy kisses and quick bites until he reached down between you and shoved his whole length right back into you in one precise plunge. You grunted hard at his intensity, gaping up at him as he picked up where he left off, fucking you hard into his bed until his balls were echoing a steady rhythm of wet slapping through his room.Â
You were dizzy with pleasure, moaning louder as tears of pleasure blurred your vision, raising your hands above your head to grip onto the sheets as he had his way with you. He found that spot inside you again like it was easy, like he knew your body, like he knew every inch of your entire existence. He pushed your thighs straight up to your chest to give himself nothing more than a tight little gap between your legs to fuck into, feeling how snug you were around him from the inside out. You threw your head back against the mattress, shrieking to the ceilingâshrieking to heavenâover the way he made you see stars.
âThe louder you are the harder I want to fuck you.â George warned lustfully, staring right down into your eyes.Â
âSir...pleaseâŠâ you sobbed out, a few tears escaping the corners of your eyes as he imprinted your body into his bed sheets with his own.Â
His groans were righteous and beautiful and you forced your eyes to stay open and locked with his, even as your toes started to curl in your socks again, calves hooked over his shoulders. He was slamming into you harder, forcing your moans to reach every corner of his house and your hands had no choice but to grab onto any part of him you could reach as you struggled for air; gripping his hair and his bicep, raking over his back.Â
You felt it again, that overwhelming tightness in the depths of your insides and the craving to just give into him.Â
âSir.â you whined out softly, âSir. I-Iâm...Sir, Iâm gonna cum.âÂ
But George was already feeling how your body clenched down on him in desperate greedy pulses, he knew you were close before you even did. He raised one hand to the top of his wooden headboard, using it for leverage as he fucked you right through your overwhelm and into the momentary blissful gaping silence as your orgasm washed over you.Â
With a shrieking gasping inhale, you came around him, forcing yourself to stare right into his eyes as he brought so much aching pleasure over you that it was mind numbing. All you could think about was George, George, George and certainly not the terrible heinous sins you were committing with the son of your pastor.Â
George was merciless, pounding into you right through your orgasm even as your liquids creamed around him and drenched your thighs in glistening wetness that made his body slap with yours louder and wetter. He was groaning loud, eyebrows furrowed as you squeezed his cock so tightly it was as if your body was ready to suck the very soul from him.Â
âGoddamn, angel.â he spoke lowly, his words riddled with breathlessness, âThatâs my good fucking girl.âÂ
âFeels so good.â you sobbed wetly.Â
âYeah? I bet it does.â George taunted without slowing down, âYour sweet little pussy has never been fucked like this before. Just waiting for me to fuck those naughty thoughts out of your brain.âÂ
âYes, sir.â you cried, moaning and whimpering as your high tapered off and your aching throbbing body was still being taken roughly by him. âYes, sir, it hurts.â
âLet it hurt.â George hushed you quickly, âItâs part of your penance, angel, remember? Youâre a dirty fucking sinner.â
âYes, sir.â you sobbed, dragging your nails down his biceps as he fucked you roughly as the bed slammed against the wall over and over even as his hand tried to hold the headboard still.Â
It was far too overwhelming and your legs were trembling, but you could only focus on him and how his dick was starting to throb inside your snug body. His slick skin was warm under your touch and he shifted slightly to slide his other hand down between your legs still bent up to your chest and he let his fingertips graze over your clit. Your whimper at his light touch only had him setting his whole hand down on your lower stomach and had his thumb start to rub at your swollen clit, pressing down just to feel how deep he was and you could feel how he filled you.Â
âJesus fucking Christ!â you shrieked, tears pouring down your cheeks in overwhelm as his thumb rubbed faster and faster. Your sinful, vulgar words only spurred him on, fucking the sanity out of you harder, his breaths falling shallower as his groans filled his room.Â
âGonna cum in your filthy fucking mouth.â he growled shakily, still fucking into you strongly.Â
âNo.â you whimpered, grabbing his waist in your tight grip as if to prevent him from even trying to pull out, âI want it inside me. P-Please, sir.â
âAngel, thatâs so dangerous.â George warned.Â
âI donât care!â you whined, âI donât care, I wanna feel you so fucking deep, sir, please!âÂ
âGod, youâre so fucking sinful.â
âIn-side-me-ple-ase.â you begged through each hard thrust he gave you.Â
Georgeâs thumb rubbed harder at your clit until your legs were shaking, nearly vibrating as they were held down against your chest and he was leaned over top of you, fucking you harder and faster into his bed as his heavenly moans harmonized so angelically with yours. You felt completely on fire, soaking yourself in tears of overwhelm as your mind was fizzing into nothingness. You couldnât think, you couldnât focus on anything else other than his thick cock drilling into you so hard your vision was going black around the edges.Â
Your third orgasm of the afternoon hit you like a brick wall, sending your whole body into tremors as your pussy clenched down on him tighter than ever, your eyes screwing shut no matter how much you wanted to keep looking at him. It was insane how dizzy with pleasure you felt and the bursts of liquids that spurted out of you had you gasping in surprise as you clung onto him.Â
George gripped tighter to the headboard and shoved in as deep as he could go with a rough grunt, pausing there for a second as he spilled his first thick shot of cum right inside you. The pad of his thumb still tugged at your clit as he shoved his hips into yours slowly but strongly through your shared orgasms, not caring how you soaked him up his abs in clear glistening wetness.Â
âOh fuck.â you whimpered shakily, gripping onto his biceps tightly as he came inside you, filling you with the warmest filthiest feeling. You were more than positive that this is what heaven felt like.Â
âOh my...gosh.â George breathed lowly, his eyebrows furrowed in his own surprise and he leaned back slightly to get a good look at how soaked you both were, not to mention his sheets that were lightly stained in pink hues of blood. You whimpered as his body heat moved away from you and you let your arms draped tiredly above your head to let him stare at you. His large hands ran down your hips and held you in place as he pulled out of you, letting his softening dick leave you without that once perfect stretch.Â
Your legs fell lazily to the bed even as they trembled slightly and he stayed situated between them to watch as a thick drop of white cream was pushed out of your dripping hole by your aching and pulsing muscles. He didnât bother cleaning it up, leaving you messy as he raised his eyes back up to your tear streaked face.Â
âIâve never had a girl squirt before.âÂ
His simple statement had you shying away, pulling your thighs together as your cheeks flushed pink. George tisked and leaned over you to press a lingering kiss to your cheek.Â
âWhy so shy on me now, angel?â
You felt dirty from more than the sin that had just completed, but at the thought of him doing the same thing with other girls. You mumbled a soft, âNothing.âÂ
âHey.â Georgeâs face turned to concern and he shifted off you to let you sit up the best you could when you made the move and you pulled your skirt back down as if to keep yourself decent around the young man who just took your virginity. Who just took your most sacred gift. He spoke your name softly and reached for your arm to stop you from standing up. With the wave of dizziness that overcame you, you didnât fight him. âTake it easy for a sec.âÂ
âI have to go.â you said, your voice quivering.
âJust wait until you get your legs back under you first at least.â George said, trying to pull you by the arm to lay down again. âWhy are you in such a rush, angel?â
You sat stiff on the side of his bed, mostly naked and covered in sweat, spit, and various consistencies of each otherâs cum, and you held onto the edge of the mattress with your head hung and spinning. You took a soft breath, âHow many girls have you...have you taken like this?â
There was a silence that fell and you didnât have to look at him to know the expression that was taking up his face. He didnât want to lie to you but the truth wasnât what he knew you wanted to hear.Â
âA few...maybe, like, eight...or...twelve...but-â
âIâm so stupid.â you whimpered more to yourself than anyone, trying to get up again.Â
George grabbed your arm to keep you from getting to your feet and he spoke quickly, âBut none of them have been like you. None of them have made me feel as good as you. None of them...I never technically had sinful disgusting risky pre-marital sex with anyone other than you.â
âYou probably say that to all of them.â you mumbled, sitting on the side of his bed sniffling, and wiped your already tear streaked cheeks with the heel of your palm.Â
âHey.â George shuffled up behind you on the bed and he slid his arm around you and gently urged your head back to look at him over your shoulder with a hand on your neck. You blinked away your forming tears as you stared into his eyes. He stroked his thumb over your jawline and spoke softly to you, âLying is a sin. I donât lie and especially not to you.âÂ
You sniffled and nodded weakly.Â
George leaned in and pressed a gentle feather soft kiss to your pouted lips and then another to the tip of your nose. He petted your hair back from your face, âOkay, now just lay down for a bit and Iâll grab you some water. That post-orgasm drop off is really hitting you, angel.âÂ
âWhatâs that?â you mumbled, letting him lead you farther back onto his bed and he tucked the sheets up around your shivering body.Â
âYouâre just exhausted and overwhelmed from all thatâand maybe a bit dehydratedâand after such a strong dose of those pleasure sensors in that pretty little head of yours, youâre now crashing a little.â George explained as he made sure you were tucked up securely to keep you from trembling from cold as well as the drop in natural endorphins. âIâm going to get you some water, Iâll be right back.â
He tugged his boxers back up and hurried out of his room and you listened for each quick footfall down the wooden flight of stairs. Fourteen steps. You let your head rest back against the headboard and you stared up at the bottom of the carved wooden cross still managing to stay hung on the blue painted wall. Your heart was racing and you still felt like you were going to cry. Your head was spinning and even though you werenât cold, you were trembling.Â
This must have been your punishment. God saw it all. He saw your sin and this was the first step to your true punishment. You felt sick with guilt, a pit in your stomach like you had never felt before. You needed to go home but you wanted to stay with George but you thought that even the sight of him would bring back the shame of your afternoon rendezvous.Â
Only a few seconds later, George was returning into his room with two glasses of water and a box of cookies tucked under his arm. Even though the house was still empty, he nudged the door closed anyway and brought over the snack and drinks to the bedside table.Â
âOkay,â he crouched down to drop the opened package of cookies on the night table and then held out one of the glasses of water to you, âHere you go.â
âGodâs punishing me.â you said softly without taking the glass.Â
Georgeâs soft smile fell, still holding your offered drink out to you, âWhat? How?â
âI feel...sick with guilt.â you mumbled, embarrassed to share your innermost fears with him, whom you may have been crushing on for months but only spoke to in the last few short hours.Â
âHeâs not punishing you, angel.â George assured you. He set his own glass of water to the side before he lifted your hand himself to wrap your fingers around your icy glass. âDrink.âÂ
Your trembling hand rose the water to your lips and you sipped softly. George crawled onto his bed beside you and petted his hand through the side of your hair as you sipped your water. He leaned in to kiss your temple.Â
âYou did nothing abnormal.â George said softly, stroking his hand through your tangled mess of hair, âRemember what I said? God wouldnât have made it feel so good if it was something so terrible, right? And you know He always loves you so all you have to do is take it to confession and it will be alright.âÂ
âHow do you know?â you asked shakily.Â
âAngel,â George chuckled, âIâm the second son of our townâs pastor; I have been told our rules and expectations as Christains since the moment I took my very first breath. I may have found my way around some of them over the last few years but my father always told me that nothing you can do will make the Lord love you any less.âÂ
You sipped your water quietly.Â
âAnd making love is certainly not a ticket to hell.â George whispered.Â
âDo I have to be re-baptised?âÂ
âOnly if you want to.â
âPromise?â
âI donât lie.â
You glanced over at him, your nose almost touching his with how close you both sat, and feeling somewhat more comforted, you tested his theory, âSo if youâre so truthful, what do you say if your parents ask what you did this afternoon?â
âI praised the name of the Lord with that sweet-hearted girl from church and helped her to strengthen her faith and connection with God.â George answered easily.Â
âAnd if they ask how?â
âThey wonât.â George shrugged before leaning over you to reach for his glass of water from the nightstand, pausing with his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, âBut if they do, I guess Iâll have to tell them that I had no choice but to fuck your sinful thoughts you were having right out of your head...tell them that youâre cured now...that I made you see the light of heaven...that I turned you from a little dirty whore into a sweet angellic good girl who loves her God.âÂ
His teasing smile only had you biting back your own, raising your hand still chilled from the cold water glass to set against his bare chest and he tilted his head slightly to kiss you slowly.Â
After a few seconds, he pulled back again, âMake me one promise though?â
âMhm?â you answered softly, still in a blissful little daze from the sweetness of his kisses.Â
âKeep your confessional appointment for tomorrow. You definitely need it now.âÂ
âYes, sir.â you giggled, tossing your arm around his shoulders as his lips locked with yours again.Â
The very next day - after a long afternoon of snacks and kisses and nothing else in Georgeâs warm bed, him driving you home on his motorcycle, and a night of such a deep relaxing sleep you didnât even dream - you arrived at the white paneled church at 1pm. Like a taunting sense of deja vu, you small heels clicked over the wooden floors of the empty church and towards the two small doors of the confessional booths. There was one light on, signaling that the priest was inside and waiting for you.Â
You opened the door and closed it behind you as you sat in the tight space. You performed the sign of the cross, folded your hands, and spoke remorsefully despite the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips, âForgive me, Father, for I have greatly sinned.âÂ
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