#power serve ╱ received.

[acoldsovereign]

Does Maiz relishes in torturing/murdering people?

{{ She does. It's not something she needs to do, but she enjoys both actions. Torturing people can be more of a logical thing she does over pleasure (it's how she developed her Cold Instinct), but it can be a pleasurable thing if her target hates pain, humiliation, being embarrassed, or if they hate/are disgusted by or are annoyed/frustrated by her in general.

Something something about her being a pure sadist, something something.

[krismatic]

today I bring you OC art. tomorrow? who knows… (it’s gonna be more OC art)

more versions under the cut

[tiktaaliker]

read that pointnclick post in gazer's voice lol

no see the only reason why that reblog wasnt tagged with any of my ocs was because theres too many that would work for. gazer for sure but also nil and null and everyone in cycle 3 and lungfish and bailey and so on and so forth

[capricornlevi]

nanami x reader - w.c 3k, marraige of convenience, mentions of societal pressure but everything is consensual!, nsfw, mdni!

without even meeting him, you agreed to marry nanami kento without any expectations of future love, romantic or otherwise.

the pairing is advantageous for the both of you; you get access to the impressive nanami family fortune that has grown substantially now that kento is managing it, while he gets to enjoy a close association with your prestigious family and the subsequent educational opportunities that your children will benefit from. it's sensible and by far the best option you'd been presented with.

you've exchanged letters with him, polite and concise. you can read between the lines and see that he shares a disillusioned view of jujutsu society, but is more than willing to step up for the good of his family.

you weren't coerced by anyone. far from it -- your mother and father had sat you down and asked if you were sure, that they would understand if you wanted to take more time or to choose a different path for yourself altogether.

but you know the rest of society would not be so kind or understanding. marriage between two sorcerers, as antiquated as it seems, is how you survive amongst all of these competitive, power-hungry families.

from what you've read and heard about him, nanami will provide stability. he's progressive in his thinking, and so wont expect anything from you that he wouldn't be willing to do as well. you've learned that he's a teacher at tokyo tech, and has received glowing reviews; he'll be a good father.

and so on this misty thursday morning, you lay eyes on your fiancé for the first time as he slips a ring on your finger and promises to stay by your side forever.

the ceremony is as bare-bones as your reputation will allow. the guest list doesn't hit the triple digits, a huge departure from society norms, but representatives from the major houses sit in floral-clad wooden chairs to watch you repeat the words that the officiant speaks in your direction.

nanami takes your hands in his. they're warm, which is nice. this dress isn't designed for November weather, but it's an heirloom -- and truthfully, you're glad to be wearing it. you'd never given much thought to a wedding, but it makes your mother and grandmother very happy.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to discover how handsome nanami is. you were previously shown a few polaroids of him -- staff pictures, mostly, but some with the rest of his family -- and had known he wasn't bad-looking, but the pictures weren't clear enough to give you a proper understanding of his looks.

his blond hair is styled neatly, not a hair out of place. he has nice features, strong jawline and cheekbones, and soft eyes, a good combination. you know his gaze can be piercing when he wants it to be, but now, he looks at you gently.

you know you made the right decision.

more vows, a kiss, and you're married.

___

the reception goes mercifully smoothly. the mix of guests -- powerful sorcerer family heads, rich businesspeople, and just a few of your personal friends -- didn't appear to gel too well on paper, but they mostly stick to their own factions. you greet them all until your vocal cords grow tired.

a meal is served on plates so ornate it makes you feel awkward eating off them. you nurse a glass of wine for most of the evening and nanami does the same, politely waving off the servers who approach to refill his glass.

a promising sign that he doesn't feel the need to drown his sorrows. this is a marriage of convenience, yes, but you'd like to be able to get along reasonably well with your spouse.

and, to his credit, he's been making light conversation with you all evening. he doesn't dip into deep or uncomfortable topics like your marriage or future plans, figuring that's best saved for later, but he asks you questions about yourself. by the end of the evening, you feel safe enough to allude to your desire for a future somewhat outside society's norms -- "I've always wanted to travel, honestly. maybe ... spend a few years abroad" -- and, to your pleasant surprise, he doesn't rebuff them. if anything, he seems somewhat pleased.

you have another glass of wine and before you know it, it's the early hours of the morning. you're nowhere near tipsy but feel ready for bed, ready to wipe off this makeup and slip into something more comfortable; thankfully, guests have started to slip out one by one, with only immediate family remaining.

your unpleasant and friendless older cousin makes a joke about you needing to say your goodbyes to 'go please your husband', and nanami's face sours for the first time all evening. your cousin notices and sheepishly takes a drink, mumbling something about it being his time to leave too.

with some final hugs to your respective families, it's time to leave with ...

... with your husband.

in his last letter before the wedding, nanami agreed that your city-centre apartment would be the best place to live in the first few weeks of your marriage, until you find somewhere more permanent that suits you both, and so that's where you go.

you show him around each room, including some storage space where his luggage had been delivered this morning. interspersed with some more small talk, you explain that although it's small, it's well placed for both of you to get to work. he smiles and nods, thanking you with a warmth that doesn't feel forced.

you offer him some tea or whiskey; he says he's fine.

you yawn. he loosens his tie, clearly exhausted himself.

the last room you show him is your bedroom, and it becomes harder and harder not to address the elephant in the room. there's very clearly no second bed, no room for him to stay that wouldn't necessitate a lot of closeness between the two of you.

the silence hangs heavy and loaded, both of you waiting for the other to speak.

well. this is one issue you hadn't covered before the ceremony.

you have no issue with a sexual relationship -- in fact, you're somewhat looking forward to it, having spent the evening admiring the way nanami's shirt hugs his strong arms and chest. but you're not sure if tonight, the first night you've ever met, is the best night to start.

sure, the concept of the wedding night speaks for itself, but it's not as black-and-white in your situation. he might want to spend some time settling in, first. he might not even be that interested in you.

"want me to take the couch?" he asks quietly, with no hint of resentment or offence in his voice. he makes the offer with a sincerity you haven't heard from a man in a long time.

you don't break your silence, but not because you're uncomfortable or anything of the sort -- you're just assessing your options.

"there's nothing i expect from you, just so you know," he continues, and you turn your head to face him, seeing his eyes scan your face for any sign of unease. "the last thing i want is for you to do ... this ... out of obligation or pressure. we have a lifetime to get to know each other, to reach that point -- i want you to be comfortable around me."

your upbringing has made you a sceptic, a pessimist at times, but for some reason, you believe him. maybe it's the look in his eyes, or the fact that he's taken your hand in his own, interlocking your fingers, but there's something about him that sets him aside from normal sorcerers.

he seems real. he seems as though, powers and fortunes and family names aside, he has some substance about him.

"do you want to?" you ask then, voice almost inaudible quiet from a day spent conversing with guests at your wedding.

he doesn't hear you, so he dips his head in your direction; you repeat yourself and wait, hoping you hadn't pressed the issue.

his composure doesn't crack, but something flashes in his eyes as he processes your question. he has such control over the movements of his features, over every expression in his body, except for his eyes, you think.

maybe you just happen to be good at reading him.

he mulls it over for a second, his grip on your hand never slacking.

"i want to," he finally admits. "i've wanted to for a while, truthfully. I've spent a lot of late nights picturing how it would feel to be inside you, to hear what my name sounds like when you say it. but i only want that if you want it too."

you smile without meaning to. "you imagined that from just reading a few letters?"

"yes, and it's a testament to my trust in my new wife that I'm telling you that," he replies, still polite but tinged with amusement.

it feels strange standing at your bedroom doorway, hand in hand with this almost-stranger, imagining what it would be like to indulge in these thoughts you've both been having, spending your first night together tangled up in the sheets and allowing some of the indulgence you've long denied yourself.

duty gets tiring. for a long time, you've been unsure what it feels like to genuinely want something.

now, you're pretty sure it feels something like this. it's organic and unforced, a natural desire that sends heat curling in the pit of your stomach.

wordlessly, you guide nanami into your room, closing the door behind you. there's a hint of a smile on his lips as you ask him for help to untie your wedding dress, the intricate pattern of buttons trailing up your spine proving too technical for your own hands. he's methodical in his work, careful to not damage the delicate clasps.

soon your dress is loose around your hips, your chest covered by the thin slip you wore underneath. you set the garment carefully aside before returning the favour and starting to undo nanami's shirt, avoiding eye contact as your hands expose more and more of his bare chest.

you want to do this, you know that for sure, but that doesn't mean you won't feel a bit of awkwardness at the start. you're not well practiced, having had too busy a life for romantic relationships until now. you hope that instinct will kick in sooner than later, but you've no doubt nanami will help you along the way.

when you finally build up the nerve to glance up at him as he shrugs off the shirt, he's looking at you as though you're the only person he ever wants touching him.

you hear the soft clink of metal and realise he's undoing his belt.

"are you sure?" he asks one more time.

that one question, and the earnestness with which he speaks, erases the last shred of doubt you had. you place your trust in him for the second time today.

you nod and reach across to his belt in the same breath, helping him pull it free from the loops to be tossed by the armchair near your desk.

you move as though controlled by something other than yourself, the decisions coming so naturally it feels as though you've been imagining it for weeks as well.

and maybe you have, you think to yourself, as you confidently guide him back slowly until he's sitting down on the plush armchair, his suit pants still on as you crawl onto his lap, pressing your chest against his. the thin fabric of your slip means you can feel the heat of his body against your skin, nipples hardening as they graze against his muscles.

you've just about balanced yourself, carefully perched on his lap when you feel his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that has you grinding against his thighs before you can even catch your breath.

you've never been kissed like this. the few kisses you've had before have been with partners who see you as a means to an end, be it for your family name, your reputation, or just for sex. you've never been kissed by someone who seems to get more from your pleasure than from his own.

you now know he meant it when he said he's been picturing this.

you kiss him for as long as you can, and you're not sure if it's for seconds, minutes, hours. you kiss him until there's a heat burning between your thighs you can no longer stand, that you need to have satiated by the visible, prominent bulge in the front of his suit pants.

when you finally break away, lips numb and kiss-slick, nanami's hair is touselled - you don't remember running your hands through them, but you must have at some point - and he reaches up to run his fingers under the straps of your slip, asking with his eyes if he can guide them off your shoulders.

you nod, and your chest is exposed to the cool night air for a split second before nanami's mouth is on one of your nipples, tongue circling the sensitive skin and making you cry out.

one of the words you moan must be his name, because you feel him smile as he turns his attention towards the other nipple, hands now at the small of your back to keep you close to him.

you can't take it much longer. you need to be touched so badly, you didn't even think you were capable of wanting it this much -- and you only want him to do it, now and maybe forever.

maybe he can read your mind or maybe you babbled out the request, but nanami finally takes pity on you, giving your nipple one final lick before resting his shoulders back against the cushion of the armrest and sliding his hands up your thighs, hooking your underwear with his fingers -- you lift your hips up to let him slip them off.

his composure slips further when he finally touches you between your legs, feeling how wet you've gotten for him, seeing how you react when he slips his index finger inside.

your head falls back and you hold a breath, focusing all of your attention on the sensation of him inside you, on the way he curls the digit ever-so-slightly before pulling it out and fucking you with two this time, almost -- almost -- tipping you over the edge.

"such a pretty wife," he mumbles almost under his breath, voice and gaze reverent as he watches you rock yourself against his hand. "my beautiful, perfect wife, aren't you?"

you want to answer him but can't, lungs feeling near-empty as you fumble with the buttons of his pants.

"i will never be able to think of anything else but you, i think," he muses, half-smiling. "you in my lap ... you making those pretty little noises ... i might be a ruined man, you know. and I'm glad of it."

he only stops speaking when you finally get your hand on his clothed cock, his breath catching in his throat as you trace it with your fingers.

you want tonight, the first of many times together, to start with you cumming on your husband's cock.

nanami just watches as you finally pull him out of his underwear, his length thick and hard in your hand as you give it a few messy strokes. it's all the both of you can manage before you need to have it inside you -- you shift your hips to sit on it, nanami's eyes fixed on the site of the head slipping inside.

it's a stretch, as you expected, but one you've been craving since you closed the bedroom door. you take him inch by inch, lowering yourself down as his breath quickens, clearly battling the urge to thrust up inside you.

but he's careful with you, and doesn't want to hurt you. his wife.

you lift yourself up too much and his cock slips out, slapping aginst his stomach and you nearly cry at the sudden emptiness, eager and clumsy as you guide him back inside you.

he kisses you when you sink down next, tongue massaging your own until the feeling of almost-too-full turns to a perfect, satisfying heat in your core.

eventually you're ready to quicken the pace, bouncing on his cock before long, your mind working too fast for you to keep up as you see nanami's cheekbones flush pink, his pupils dark as you ride him until your thighs ache.

you power through the sensation, nanami helping you along by meeting your hips with his, his thumb tracing uneven circles on your puffy clit. he calls you perfect and other beautiful words; you don't say anything besides more, more and, soon after, nearly there, nearly there, please, please, I'm so close --

your entire body lights up with the most wonderful sensation, hitting you like a wave and sweeping you away in its warm glow, with nanami's hands now on your hips, guiding your movements in exactly the way you need it -- not too hard, not too slow, not too fast.

you're still pulsing around him when you feel his body stiffen, his strong thighs tensing as he groans through gritted teeth. he pulls you in for a crushing kiss as he finishes, filling you up and thrusting as deep as he can until oversensitivity takes over.

the afterglow has you a contented and exhausted mess, muscles aching but satisfied in a way you'll spend forever seeking.

reluctantly, you slip off his cock to retake your place on his lap, marvelling at how undone you both have become, a far cry from your perfect wedding appearance.

you look perfect to him, though, you know as much from the kiss he presses to your sweaty forehead and the way his arm wraps around your shoulders.

"we didn't even make it to the bed," you observe, eyebrows raising as you finally return to your own body. "i ... wasn't expecting that."

"we have a lifetime to spend in bed," he replies, a smile in his voice.

and once again, for reasons you still don't understand, you believe him.

[fvsm4x]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 (you) !

synopsis. Prince Satoru has just come of age, and it’s tradition in his kingdom for the crown prince to be presented with potential suitors. Despite his power and prestige, he’s lived a life of strict rules and sheltered isolation, knowing little about romance and even less about pleasure. His parents arrange for a tutor to guide him on how to properly fuck and pleasure a partner

+ warnings/content. Prince! Gojo S. + tutor fem! reader - satoru is a virgin and inexperienced - virginity lose - p in v - feral gojo a bit - royal au - gojo has a big dick - oral (fem. receiving) - fingering - size difference a bit - gojo is pussydrunk - shy/soft gojo

+ word count. 9.1k (Oppsie daisy)

a/n. This is prolly one of my favs works so I HOPE U LIKE IT

banner by unknown (tell me if u know from who it is!!)

The doors to Prince Satoru’s chambers loomed before you, tall and intricately carved, a testament to the wealth and grandeur of the palace. Your fingers hovered just above the handle, and you took a steadying breath, reminding yourself of the role you were about to step into. The position was an unusual one, to say the least—both highly honored and slightly scandalous, whispered about only behind closed doors and far from the ears of the public.

When the queen had summoned you, you’d expected to be given a task of courtly refinement—perhaps tutoring Prince Satoru in diplomacy or etiquette, something befitting his status. But the court had other plans. Prince Satoru was soon to come of age, and despite his immense power and status, he had led a remarkably sheltered life. Royal duty dictated that he was to be groomed for the throne, but there was more to kingship than formalities and court rituals. To make matters more complicated, it was tradition that the crown prince be well-versed in… more intimate knowledge.

And so, here you were—his tutor for this secret, delicate subject. The court deemed it crucial that Satoru gain a proper understanding of how to navigate romantic and physical intimacy, skills thought essential to his future rule. And though this education would be handled with the utmost discretion, the weight of it wasn’t lost on you. This was about more than teaching the young prince; it was about shaping the experiences that would prepare him for life, even if it meant starting with things he’d never before dared to touch

One of the royal guards gave you a nod, signaling that the prince awaited inside, and with that final reassurance, you pushed open the heavy doors.

The room was grand, adorned with tapestries of deep blue and golds, velvet curtains framing the windows to keep prying eyes out. Soft candlelight bathed the chamber, casting warm, flickering shadows that seemed to make the room feel smaller, more intimate. And there, in the midst of it all, stood Prince Satoru.

He looked as regal as ever, his white hair falling around his shoulders in soft waves that caught the light, yet his expression was tense, the lines of his jaw just slightly taut as he took in your arrival. He stood tall, shoulders straight, but there was a nervous energy about him, a flicker of uncertainty in his piercing blue eyes. For all his power, he was, in this moment, simply a young man facing something entirely foreign.

He looked almost hesitant, his fingers curling at his sides as he took a few tentative steps forward.

“Are you… the tutor?” he asked, his voice soft but clear.

You bowed, folding your hands in front of you. “Yes, Your Highness. I’m honored to serve you.”

He returned your bow with a slight nod, his gaze hesitant but unwavering. “Thank you for coming,” he replied, his voice quiet and just a little rough around the edges. After a pause, he continued, “And please— call me satoru.”

You blinked at him before replying,“of course, Satoru.“

He continued,“I understand you’re here to… teach me certain things

There was a vulnerability to his words, as if he were admitting some private, embarrassing truth, and you felt a flicker of sympathy. “Yes,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “I’m here to help you learn at your own pace. We don’t have to rush anything. It’s perfectly normal to have questions, and we can take things one step at a time.”

He let out a breath, and a faint, almost sheepish smile flickered across his lips. “That’s… good to know,” he murmured. “To be honest, I’m not sure where to begin. I’ve read about some of it—romance, intimacy—but it always seemed… different in stories. Simpler. Or maybe more dramatic.” He paused, then quickly added, “But I have no practical experience. I don’t even know what’s expected of me.”

Was he really that inexperienced?

It was hard for you to believe. Prince Satoru was strikingly attractive, with an air of confidence that most people would expect from someone well-versed in such matters. Yet here he was, seeming genuinely lost. You’d have guessed he at least knew the basics—how to start, how to read a moment. But the way he looked at you, the way his questions hovered in the air with such uncertainty, made it clear that he truly knew next to nothing.

You nodded, taking in his words. “That’s perfectly alright,“

Satoru’s gaze flicked away, almost as if embarrassed by his own curiosity. “It’s strange. I’m supposed to lead a kingdom, yet I feel so… out of place when it comes to this.” His eyes returned to yours, vulnerable but resolute. “It feels almost… childish, not knowing these things.”

You smiled gently. “It’s not childish at all, satoru. You’ve been raised in a very particular way, with rules and responsibilities that few can understand. Besides, being inexperienced doesn’t make you any less capable.”

He studied you closely, his intense blue eyes absorbing your words, as if testing their weight before trusting them. There was a softening in his expression, a subtle shift from wary curiosity to a quiet resolve. “I think I understand,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… where do I start? What do I need to know?”

Slowly, you stepped closer, letting him feel your presence before you closed the distance entirely. Your hand hovered in the air, close enough for him to notice, but not so close as to assume his permission. “May I?” you asked, your tone gentle but firm, a reassurance that he was in control of every moment.

He seemed caught off guard, his gaze briefly dropping to your hand before meeting your eyes again. There was a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps a bit of nervous anticipation—but he nodded, his voice soft yet steady. “Of course.”

You reached forward, your fingers just grazing his hand, warm and slightly tense under your touch. Slowly, you guided his hand toward your waist, resting it there carefully. His fingers settled against you, his grip hesitant but steady. His hand was large, enveloping the curve of your waist, and the warmth of his skin seeped through the fabric, grounding both of you in this small, shared moment.

Satoru’s hand flexed, his fingers instinctively pressing into the soft give of your waist. His touch was cautious, like he was still testing the sensation, and you could feel him catch his breath. His eyes flickered down, watching his own hand as if seeing it in this position was almost surreal. Then his gaze lifted to yours, his expression a mix of awe and a little self-consciousness, like he was realizing just how new all of this felt to him.

For a moment, time seemed to still, the air thick with something unspoken. His fingers remained gently on your waist, his grip firm but careful. His eyes held yours, searching for something—maybe understanding, maybe comfort.

You felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes lingered on you, his expression searching, as if trying to find reassurance or perhaps permission. His attention felt heavy, intense, and you could feel your cheeks warming, a faint blush creeping over you. You forced yourself to brush it aside, focusing on him, on the quiet yet clear connection between you.

Drawing a breath, you leaned in, rising onto your toes until your face was just inches from his. Your eyes dropped to his lips, your gaze lingering there for just a second too long, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His eyes fluttered shut, and his fingers dug slightly into your waist, pulling you in closer with an unexpected urgency. Your breaths mingled in the narrow space between you before his lips met yours in a rush of movement.

The kiss was messy, uncoordinated, almost clumsy in its eagerness. His lips pressed hard against yours, his movements lacking the practiced finesse of experience but carrying a raw intensity that made up for it. He kissed you with an almost desperate enthusiasm, his lips parting messily against yours, the faint taste of his breath mingling with your own. There was a wetness to the kiss, his inexperience clear in the way he seemed to lose himself, following only instinct rather than skill. He kissed you with unabashed need, a little too much spit and an endearing awkwardness in the way his mouth moved against yours.

You could feel his inexperience, the way he struggled to find a rhythm, his lips and tongue a bit too eager, too messy. But there was a certain sweetness to it, a sincerity that made the kiss feel even more intimate. It was unrefined, almost childlike in its enthusiasm, yet it was deeply honest—a kiss from someone exploring a world he’d never known, trying to understand it one uncertain step at a time.

Slowly, you brought your hand up to his face, brushing your fingers along his jawline, gently guiding him to slow down. You felt his breathing hitch at the soft touch, and his lips stilled for a moment, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. His gaze held a mixture of surprise and something more vulnerable—a spark of uncertainty, as though he was asking if he was doing things right.

“You’re doing just fine,” you whispered, your words a gentle reassurance. You could see the tension ease from his expression, the smallest hint of relief softening his gaze. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gave you a shy smile that felt so out of place on someone as commanding as him, yet so fitting in this moment.

With your guidance, he leaned in again, his movements now a bit more measured, a touch gentler. His lips met yours with newfound purpose, still a little messy, but now slower, as though savoring each second. This time, he lingered, allowing the kiss to unfold naturally, his lips brushing against yours with a sweet, unhurried warmth.

Your hands slid to rest on his shoulders, fingers tracing the lines of his frame, feeling the subtle tremor under his skin as he let himself fall into the moment. The kiss grew deeper, a quiet exploration, as though he were learning you, learning this intimacy he’d never experienced before. And in that moment, it felt like there was only the two of you—caught in this delicate exchange, each touch building a fragile new understanding.

After a long, breathless pause, he drew back, his expression softened yet still intense, eyes clouded with newfound desire. His lips, now slightly swollen from the kiss, parted as he looked at you, as if searching for something—permission, maybe, or reassurance. His hand remained at your waist, fingers tightening gently, grounding himself in the unfamiliar intimacy that had formed between you.

Without another word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was harder, more confident than before, as though the hesitation had melted away. His hands slid down your waist, fingers tracing the shape of your body until they reached the back of your thighs. In one smooth movement, he lifted you, his strength evident as he held you firmly. A gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck for support as he carried you with ease.

Your back met the cool, solid surface of the wall, and you felt a rush of heat at the sudden closeness, the way his body pressed against yours, anchoring you there. His hands, still beneath your thighs, slid upward slightly, fingers grazing the curve of your ass before giving it a small, tentative squeeze. The unexpected boldness of the touch sent a spark through you, and your breath hitched, a faint blush coloring your cheeks.

His lips found yours again, and he kissed you with a fervor that felt worlds away from the shyness he’d shown moments before. His mouth moved against yours with a raw intensity, devouring each kiss, leaving no space between you. You felt the heat radiating from him, the rhythm of his breaths growing heavier as he pressed himself closer, as though wanting to close any lingering distance between you.

The contrast was dizzying—just moments ago, he’d been so cautious, uncertain in every touch, every glance. And now here he was, holding you in his arms, his kisses almost desperate as if he’d found something he didn’t want to let go of. You clung to him, fingers tangling in his hair as you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady, grounding pressure of his hands keeping you anchored against him.

He kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that seemed to grow with each passing second. His fingers tightened on your ass, his grip steady and possessive, pressing you more firmly against the wall as though he wanted to keep you there, close, unmovable. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and heavy, mirroring your own.

His mouth left yours only for a moment, his lips brushing along your jaw, trailing down to the curve of your neck. Each kiss was a mix of soft and hurried, as if he were savoring the taste of your skin but couldn’t quite hold back his growing desire. His breath was hot against your neck, and you felt a shiver run through you as his lips lingered there, taking his time to explore, to feel you.

The way he held you felt powerful yet tentative, as if he was discovering just what he could do, and it sent a thrill through you. You felt the tension in his hold, the slight tremble in his fingertips betraying a mix of nervous excitement and unrestrained want.

You whispered his name softly, and he stilled for a moment, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes, usually so confident and sharp, held a softness, a vulnerability that made your heart race. He seemed to study you, his gaze searching your face, as if he needed to see that you were still with him, still wanting this as much as he did.

“S’toru…” you murmured agaib, your voice barely a whisper, filled with all the unspoken reassurance and encouragement you could offer. He swallowed, his cheeks faintly flushed, and gave a small, hesitant smile, looking a little relieved, a little emboldened

With newfound determination, he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours once more, this time slower, savoring the moment.

As Satoru’s kisses grew deeper and more assured, the intensity between you became undeniable, and you could feel his breathing growing heavier. His hands roamed along your thighs, fingers grazing over the fabric of your clothes, and each touch seemed to carry a little more heat, a little more urgency.

Then, suddenly, you felt it—a subtle but unmistakable pressure against your stomach. His hips had shifted closer in his fervor, and now you could feel him pressing against you, hard and undeniable. The realization made a shiver run through you, and you felt your own face flush, heart pounding at the sudden intimacy of it.

Satoru froze for a moment, as if only now aware of the way his body was reacting. His cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and he swallowed, his breath catching as he struggled to pull himself back, an awkward smile tugging at his lips.

“I… didn’t mean…” he stammered, clearly embarrassed, his gaze dropping as though he didn’t quite know how to handle his own reactions.

But before he could pull away, you brought a hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb gently along his skin, letting him know it was okay. “It’s alright,” you whispered, voice soft and reassuring. “Do what you please.“

He looked at you, relief mingling with something deeper, a flicker of excitement shining in his eyes. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours again, this time with a slower, more deliberate passion. As he deepened the kiss, his body pressed closer, and he stopped resisting the way his hips aligned with yours, letting himself feel the closeness without overthinking it.

Your hands slid over his shoulders, steadying yourself against him, feeling the strength in his frame as he held you, his body tense with barely restrained desire. The pressure against your stomach grew, a steady reminder of the effect you were having on him, and you could feel his hesitance melting away bit by bit. His kisses grew bolder, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer, as though he didn’t want any distance left between you.

,S‘toru” you whispered against his lips, voice breathy and soft, and he drew in a shaky breath, his eyes heavy-lidded, as though he was barely keeping himself grounded. He was fighting to stay in control, to process the new sensations flooding through him, but he could hardly hold back.

“Feels s‘ good…” he murmured, his voice a low, shaky whisper. Slowly, his hips moved, pressing into you, creating a delicious friction as his hardness rubbed against you, even through the layers of clothing. The movement was tentative but grew more confident with each slow thrust, his breath hitching as he sank deeper into the feeling. His lips found the side of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses there, letting his lips map the curve of your skin.

A quiet whimper escaped you, unintentional yet undeniable, and he froze, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes, still filled with that raw need, softened slightly, as if wanting to make sure he hadn’t gone too far. But when he heard the faint, breathy sound again as his lips brushed over the same spot, he seemed to realize just how much his touch affected you. A flicker of excitement flashed in his gaze, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck again, this time more deliberately, letting his tongue graze the sensitive skin.

You whimpered again, the sound slipping from your lips before you could stop it, and you brought a hand to your mouth, instinctively trying to muffle the sound. But he reached up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pulling your hand away with a gentle yet firm hold. His gaze held an intensity that made your heart skip.

“Wanna hear ‘em… your moans,” he muttered, his voice low, the words dripping with newfound confidence. He leaned in, his lips trailing back to your neck, and this time, his tongue traced slow, heated lines against your skin, savoring the way you shivered beneath his touch.

Each kiss, each brush of his lips, became bolder, more purposeful, as though he was learning exactly how to make you feel every single touch. His hips continued to press against you in slow, unhurried movements, creating a rhythm that sent sparks through your entire body.

His fingers, which had gripped your Thighs with a firm intensity, began to trail upward, brushing against the fabric of your shirt. With his breath warm against your skin, he paused, looking up at you for a moment, his gaze filled with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

His hand moved to the top button of your shirt, fingers slightly trembling as he hesitated. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching for any hint of uncertainty. When you gave him a soft nod, a silent reassurance, his face softened, and with that, he began to slowly undo the buttons, one by one, his gaze never leaving yours as though anchoring himself in the trust you shared.

His breath caught as he reached the last button, letting your shirt slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet.

His gaze dropped, and his eyes widened, filled with awe as he took in the sight of you. His hands, initially tentative, began to trace gentle patterns along your shoulders and collarbone, his touch warm and reverent. He seemed captivated, almost in disbelief, as his fingertips trailed downward, lingering at the curve of your breasts.

Satoru swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed as he looked up at you, his gaze both shy and filled with wonder. “You’re… so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, as if he feared speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. With a hesitant hand, he reached out, his palm gently covering the soft curve of your breast, his touch both tender and careful, as though you were something precious.

Leaning in, his lips brushed softly against your skin just above your heart, leaving a trail of warm, reverent kisses as he explored with growing confidence. His hand, which had rested at the curve of your breast, wandered over the full softness, squeezing with a tentative pressure that sent warmth flooding through you. His thumb and forefinger found your nipple, giving a small, instinctive pinch.

The sharp pleasure made you gasp, a moan slipping from your lips, but you couldn’t help flinching at the unexpected intensity. “Not ser‘ hard… they’re sensitive,” you murmured, gently pulling his hand back. He froze, meeting your gaze with an apologetic expression, his face flushed even deeper.

“ sorry..” he whispered, genuine remorse in his voice, but the look in his eyes was also filled with curiosity and need. Without a second thought, he lowered his head, bringing himself level with your chest, and his lips brushed over your sensitive skin in a soft, almost reverent kiss.

Satoru’s lips wrapped around your nipple, his warm mouth enveloping the sensitive peak. He kissed it softly, savoring the taste of your skin, his tongue flicking out to tease you gently. The sensation sent electric currents racing through you, and you gasped, arching into him, encouraging him to continue.

As he continued to explore, he paused for a moment, pulling back slightly to look up at you with wide, earnest eyes. “I’m really sorry for being too rough,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine remorse.

Then, as if his apology extended beyond you and into your body, he turned his attention back to your nipple, planting a soft kiss on it. “You just look s‘ perfect,” he added, the words barely escaping his lips.

He resumed his gentle kisses, trailing his mouth over the delicate skin around your breast, still mindful of your sensitivity. Each kiss was filled with a newfound tenderness, as if he was not only trying to please you but also to make amends. “Please forgive me,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm, brushing over you like a gentle caress.

With each delicate kiss, he continued to express his reverence, kissing your nipple again softly as though it were a cherished treasure. “I promise to be better,” he vowed, his gaze intent, as if making a sacred promise to both you and your body. He lavished attention on your breast, his lips trailing kisses that were sweet and reverent, the gentle pressure of his mouth a stark contrast to the earlier clumsiness.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his earnestness, feeling a warmth spread through you, not just from his touch but from his sincerity. “You’re doing just fine, you‘re just learning afterall.” you reassured him, your voice breathy and filled with affection.

His eyes lit up at your encouragement, and he dove back in, his lips returning to your nipple, kissing it with a newfound tenderness, allowing the moment to envelop you both.

from your breast to your collarbone and back again, savoring each reaction he drew from you. The warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, igniting a desire that only grew stronger.

But suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of excitement and determination. He gently wrapped his arms around you once ahain, lifting you with surprising strength.

He carried you effortlessly across the room, your heart racing as you held onto him, feeling the strength in his arms. The thrill of being so close to him, both physically and emotionally, sent a rush of warmth through you. As he approached the bed, he leaned down, carefully laying you onto the soft mattress, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once he set you down, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you stretched out before him. His heart raced in response to the intimacy of the moment, his breath hitching as he drank you in. “You’re really beautiful,” he whispered again, as if he couldn’t help but marvel at you.

Satoru leaned over you, propping himself up on his forearms, his gaze filled with a mix of admiration and longing. His fingers brushed through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, and he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.

He pressed his lips against yours again, kissing you deeply as if trying to convey all the emotions swirling within him. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if memorizing every detail of you. You felt his weight resting against you, warm and safe, and it filled you with a sense of comfort and exhilaration.

As the kiss deepened, his hands wandered, fingers tracing along your sides and down your arms, drawing you into the warmth of the moment. He seemed to lose himself in you, his kisses growing more passionate, yet still tender, as if he were balancing the thrill of desire with a profound respect for the connection you were building together.

Satoru pulled back slightly, his breathing uneven, and looked down at you with an expression that held a perfect blend of desire and vulnerability. His eyes softened, and a flicker of concern appeared as he took in your face. “Are… are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with an almost shy uncertainty. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness in his tone, and you nodded, feeling a warm sense of safety in his presence. “I’m fine,” you murmured softly, reaching up to brush a reassuring hand along his arm. “I should be asking you that.”

He nodded, his gaze briefly meeting yours before looking away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I’m… I’m okay,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper, almost as if he were still processing his own feelings. After a beat, he hesitated, then glanced back at you with a hint of nervous curiosity. “What should I do now?”

You sat up slightly, leaning forward so you could hold his gaze, though he quickly looked down, the blush deepening on his face. “Pull your clothes off,” you instructed softly, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “But leave your underwear on.”

Satoru’s eyes widened at your words, the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks, almost as if he hadn’t quite expected the suggestion. “Yeah… okay,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement as he reached for the hem of his shirt, hesitating only briefly before he began to lift it.

His hands trembled ever so slightly as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin was warm, slightly flushed, and he kept his gaze averted, as if trying to gather the courage to keep going. He let the shirt fall to the floor, then took a deep breath before moving to undo his pants, casting a quick glance in your direction as if seeking reassurance.

When he saw your soft, encouraging expression, he continued, pushing his pants down and stepping out of them, leaving only his underwear as you’d requested. His movements were tentative, almost shy, but there was a certain determination in his actions that spoke of his trust in you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you watched Satoru, your heart pounding in sync with his as he settled in beside you. His eyes lingered on you, filled with curiosity and an unmistakable nervousness, though he gave you a shy smile when you met his gaze.

With a reassuring nod, you began to reach down, fingers slipping to the waistband of your pants. His eyes followed your movements, captivated, as you slowly slid the fabric down your hips, exposing the soft skin of your legs. You kicked the pants aside, leaving you in only your underwear, mirroring him. His breath hitched as his gaze roamed over you, the admiration in his eyes unmistakable.

Now both in only your most vulnerable layers, you shifted back on the bed, motioning for him to come closer. Satoru followed, his movements tentative but filled with a certain eagerness, as though he was soaking in every detail of the moment.

He settled between your legs, his body hovering above yours as he propped himself up on his hands. His eyes were wide, sincere, holding a quiet wonder that made your heart flutter. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, drinking in the sight of you with a softness that was almost reverent.

You reached up, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips. His breaths were shallow, matching yours in rhythm, and a slight shiver ran through him at your touch. “Just take it slow,” you whispered, your voice soft, reassuring, as you leaned in close enough that your breaths mingled, faces only inches apart. “We don’t have to rush.”

He nodded, swallowing as his gaze remained locked with yours. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with gratitude and awe. Tentatively, he brought his hand to your waist, his fingers brushing over your skin with a gentleness that spoke of both caution and growing confidence. His touch was almost feather-light, his fingertips tracing small circles as though memorizing each curve and dip. You felt his hand tighten slightly, pulling you closer, grounding himself in the warmth of your body against his.

You leaned up, closing the space between you to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger there as you savored the warmth of his skin. Satoru’s eyes fluttered closed, and he exhaled a shaky breath, leaning into your touch, almost as if he were melting under your care.

When you pulled back just slightly, he turned his head to face you, his expression filled with an intense, tender gaze. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and for a brief moment, he hesitated, his lips parted as if caught between nervousness and longing. Finally, he leaned in, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss that was both tender and exploratory, filled with a sweetness that made your heart race. He kissed you slowly, savoring every second, as though he wanted to remember this moment forever.

His hands began to wander from your waist to your hips, his fingers tracing along the curve where your underwear sat against your skin. He paused, his fingertips grazing along the line of fabric, hesitating, as if seeking permission. You could feel his hand trembling slightly, both from his excitement and his nerves, his fingers brushing over the skin just above the waistband before moving back down.

Satoru’s gaze was locked on yours, his eyes a mixture of wonder and nervousness as his hands continued their tentative exploration along the edge of your underwear. He seemed to be gathering courage, his fingers tracing gentle, almost reverent patterns across your skin. Your own hand covered his, a soft reminder, and you murmured, “You can take them off, y’know…”

He paused, visibly swallowing, his blush deepening. “Yes… yes, I know,” he replied, voice barely a whisper as he gathered the courage to slide the fabric down your hips. He moved slowly, carefully, as if savoring every second. When your underwear finally slipped from your legs, he let it fall from the bed, his gaze turning back to you with a new, unguarded vulnerability.

When he looked down, his gaze dipped between your legs as you spread them slightly, giving him space to take in the sight of you. He was visibly struck by the intimacy of the moment, a hint of awe flickering in his eyes, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, making you equally self-conscious and drawn to his quiet, genuine curiosity.

This wasn’t something you’d ever imagined doing, especially not as a tutor. The queen’s request had surprised you, and even as you’d agreed to guide him, you’d never anticipated how intense and meaningful this moment would feel. But with Satoru, there was a warmth and care that put you at ease—a softness in him that made you want to help him learn, to give him this experience.

Satoru’s breath was uneven as he drew his hands up your thighs, the warmth of his touch making your skin tingle. His thumbs moved slowly, pulling your legs apart just a little more, his touch almost reverent as he brushed his thumb against the delicate skin of your inner thigh. The sensation made you shiver, a small gasp escaping you.

His gaze never left yours as he brought his hands to your center, his fingers trembling slightly as he parted your folds with his thumbs, exposing your most sensitive area to the cool air. You let out a quiet gasp at the sensation, your breath catching as he focused on the glistening sight before him, his eyes filled with awe. He seemed mesmerized, watching the way your body reacted, the soft, pulsing invitation of your skin against his touch.

For a moment, he simply watched,

Satoru’s fingers trembled slightly as he held you open, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and uncertainty. His gaze flickered to yours, a question forming on his lips. “I… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do next,” he admitted softly, his cheeks flushed, looking for guidance as he tried to understand how to please you.

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his, your touch steadying him. “It’s okay,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile. “I can show you.”

He swallowed, nodding as he leaned in closer, visibly eager to learn. “Where should I start?” he asked, his voice low and sincere.

You held his gaze, feeling a sense of warmth at his openness. “See here?” you murmured, gently guiding his thumb to a small, sensitive spot at the apex of your folds. “This is the clit—it’s the most sensitive part, and it responds a lot to touch. You’ll want to start by focusing here.”

Satoru’s eyes lit with newfound understanding, his gaze turning to admiration as he looked down, processing your words carefully. His thumb brushed experimentally over the wet spot, his movements slow and cautious. You let out a soft, encouraging sigh, and he glanced up, his expression almost childlike in its intensity, clearly focused on learning how to make you feel good.

“So, you have to… prepare someone, right?” he asked, as if confirming his understanding. “Before anything else?”

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yes. You prepare a woman for… more,” you said, feeling a blush heat your cheeks. “Touching, kissing, and things like this—all of that helps get her ready, so it’s more comfortable. You have options, too. You could use your fingers, your mouth, or both… whatever feels natural for you.”

He seemed to absorb every word, nodding slowly, his brows furrowing with concentration. “I think I understand,” he murmured, his gaze flicking between your eyes and the sensitive spot he’d just discovered.

Satoru leaned in, his thumb brushing over your clit again, this time with more confidence, his movements gentle yet focused. You let out a soft sound, and he paused, eyes widening in wonder. He glanced up at you, a small, satisfied smile forming on his lips as he realized he’d done something right.

He leaned in, closer than before, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to your inner thigh, letting his lips linger, and you could feel the warmth of his breath as he explored with a gentle touch. You could tell he was savoring every new sensation, every slight shift and soft sigh. With each kiss, he grew bolder, moving closer to your core, his hands still steady on your thighs as he continued his careful approach.

Then, his lips brushed over your folds, his breath hitching as he pressed a lingering, almost worshipful kiss there. “So soft,” he murmured, sounding as if he were speaking more to himself than to you, awe evident in his voice. His mouth moved lower, placing another slow kiss before he began to taste you, his tongue moving hesitantly at first, as if familiarizing himself with each inch.

The first gentle stroke of his tongue made you gasp softly, and Satoru’s eyes flicked up, eager to see your reaction. Seeing the pleasure in your expression, he smiled, a slight, bashful grin, and leaned in further, letting his tongue explore with more confidence. The way he worked his mouth over you, savoring every taste, every sound you made, spoke to the intense curiosity and focus he was channeling into each motion.

“Fuck—” he whispered, his voice thick and slightly shaky, pulling back for a moment to catch his breath. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated as he looked at you with something close to worship. “Pussy’s s‘ sweet— tastes ser’ good,” he murmured, almost to himself, before diving back in with a new kind of hunger.

His tongue found your clit this time, pressing gently before giving it a soft, experimental bite that sent a shock of pleasure through you, making you arch into him. He continued, lapping at you with slow, broad strokes, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands slid up, gripping your hips and pulling you even closer as he kissed and licked every inch, fully lost in the experience.

He seemed completely intoxicated by your taste, by the way your body responded to him. Each movement of his mouth became more confident, more eager, as he continued his relentless exploration, his tongue swirling around your clit before lapping at your entrance again, catching every bit of wetness as if it were precious. Satoru was utterly lost in you, pressing closer and moaning softly into your skin, entirely absorbed in the pleasure he was bringing you.

His hand slipped back to your thigh, gently squeezing as his mouth worked in perfect rhythm

Satoru’s grip on your thighs tightened as he became even more engrossed, his mouth moving over you with a hungry, eager rhythm. His eyes flickered up every so often, watching your reactions with an almost boyish awe as he learned exactly what made you gasp and arch into him. Each sound you made seemed to spur him on, fueling his growing confidence as his tongue moved with more purpose, more intent.

He let his tongue glide up from your entrance to your clit in slow, drawn-out strokes, savoring every taste, as though he couldn’t get enough. “Ser‘ good,” he murmured between breaths, his voice thick and heavy, almost reverent. “Can’t believe— fuck- how perfect ya taste.” His words were laced with genuine awe, and each syllable seemed to sink into you, heightening the warmth building deep in your core.

His lips wrapped around your clit then, and he sucked gently, sending waves of pleasure radiating through you. You gasped, fingers tangling in his soft hair, tugging him closer as your hips moved instinctively toward him, urging him deeper. Satoru moaned softly at the feeling of your hands in his hair, the vibrations of his voice against you only adding to the sensation.

“Just like that,” you whispered, your voice shaky as he continued, his enthusiasm and care blending into a perfect, overwhelming rhythm. He responded by doubling down, his lips pressing more firmly, his tongue flicking and circling, as if every movement were a way to learn how to make you feel even better.

As he continued, Satoru looked up at you again, his gaze dark with desire yet softened with admiration. “You taste like… everything I’ve ever wanted,” he mumbled against you, his voice muffled, but full of devotion. He leaned in once more, mouth covering you completely, tongue moving in long, slow strokes, savoring every drop and every reaction.

He became almost methodical, his mouth working in steady, purposeful motions, alternating between licking and gentle sucking, pulling quiet moans from your lips with every movement. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady as he continued his eager exploration, his mouth mapping every inch of you, each touch bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, as his pace quickened and his movements became less restrained, you felt the growing heat build to a near breaking point. Your hips bucked against him, and he only gripped you tighter, pressing his mouth more firmly against you, tongue swirling and lips pressing as he pushed you right to the brink, lost in the need to give you everything he could.

Satoru’s eyes never left yours as he continued, his focus unwavering. Every gasp, every arch of your back seemed to spur him on, and as he watched you getting closer, a new determination filled his gaze. His hands slid up your inner thighs, his fingers brushing over your skin with a light touch before hesitating at your entrance. He glanced up, silently asking for permission, and at your encouraging nod, he took a deep breath, pressing a finger against your slick entrance.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed inside, his movements tentative as he watched your expression, making sure you were comfortable. His finger slid deeper, and he marveled at how warm and soft you felt, his gaze full of awe as he worked his finger gently, moving in time with the soft caresses of his mouth.

“Is… this okay?” he whispered, voice low and unsure, yet filled with genuine care. The gentle curve of his finger inside you was cautious, and when you let out a quiet moan in response, he seemed relieved, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, s‘toru,” you murmured, voice thick with desire, encouraging him to continue.

Emboldened, he began moving his finger slowly, curling it inside you as he searched for the spots that made you shiver. His mouth returned to your clit, tongue flicking in gentle, deliberate strokes, the combination of his movements creating a steady, delicious rhythm. Each motion was measured, his focus absolute as he seemed to get lost in the feel of you around him, the way your body responded to every touch.

As he gained confidence, he added another finger, stretching you just slightly, his gaze still attentive, looking for any hint of discomfort. But when he saw only pleasure in your expression, his movements grew a little bolder. His fingers curved and pressed deeper, brushing that sensitive spot within you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body that had you clinging to his shoulders.

“God, pussy‘s s‘… perfect,” he breathed against you, his tone filled with reverence, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His fingers pumped steadily, his mouth following their rhythm, drawing out soft moans that seemed to intoxicate him further.

Each gentle thrust of his fingers, each flick of his tongue was filled with growing intensity, a desire that seemed to drive him to bring you closer and closer to release. His face, now completely flushed, showed a newfound hunger as he became entirely engrossed in every moan

Your body tensed as Satoru’s fingers curled inside you, pressing perfectly against that sensitive spot, his mouth still worshipping your clit with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure built rapidly, each movement of his fingers and every flick of his tongue intensifying the sensation until it became overwhelming.

Your breath hitched, and you felt yourself teetering right on the edge. “Satoru… I’m close…” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with both determination and awe, as if he couldn’t believe he was the one bringing you to this point. Encouraged, he kept going, maintaining that steady pace, his fingers pumping and curling with just the right pressure, his mouth warm and relentless against your clit.

Your body arched, and the pleasure surged through you in a powerful wave. A gasp escaped your lips, turning into a cry of pure ecstasy as you reached your climax, your body trembling under his touch. Satoru didn’t stop, his fingers and mouth working you through every second, letting you ride out the pleasure fully, his gaze fixed on you, captivated by every reaction.

He slowed only as he felt your body begin to relax, his fingers gradually easing their rhythm until they finally stilled. His lips pressed one last, tender kiss against your clit before he withdrew his hand. You watched, breathless, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, savoring every taste as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Pussy’s so sweet,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a mix of awe and raw need thickening his tone. His pupils were blown wide, his face covered in the remnants of your release, and he made no effort to hide his pleasure, licking his lips, his tongue tracing over the faint glisten left on his chin. “Want more…” he breathed, voice low and desperate, as if even this closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy the pull he felt toward you.

With a shuddering breath, he shifted, his hands moving to his briefs, and without hesitation, he slid them off, tossing them somewhere off the bed. He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a few slow, steady strokes, his own arousal now fully bared before you.

You couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips as you took him in. He was big—thicker and longer than you’d expected, his arousal flushed with a deep, heated pink at the tip, beads of precum already forming and trailing down along the pale, veined length. The sight alone made you clench in anticipation, a mix of nerves and longing swirling within you.

Satoru looked down at you, his cheeks and chest flushed, the intensity in his eyes making him look almost dazed, drunk on the need coursing through him. “Can’t… can’t wait any longer—” he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice. He leaned closer, his tip brushing against your clit in a teasing tap, smearing his precum around your entrance.

“Please,” he whispered, almost as if pleading. “Please… let me… I need to feel you. Need to be inside…”

You felt his desperation in every word, his restraint fraying with every second that passed. His gaze held yours, dark and pleading, and you gave him a soft nod, granting him the permission he so earnestly sought.

“Please…” he whispered again, positioning himself carefully, his gaze never leaving yours, even as he slowly began to press forward, inch by aching inch.

A shiver ran through Satoru as he began to sink into you, every inch he pressed forward met with a quiet gasp or soft sigh that only seemed to make him more desperate. He moved slowly, his gaze fixed on your face as if wanting to memorize every reaction. The stretch was intense, his thickness filling you in a way that had you curling your fingers into the sheets, and he took his time, his movements careful and deliberate as he entered you.

“God—” he whispered, a tremor in his voice as he tried to keep his control, his brows knitting together in concentration. His hands found your hips, gripping firmly but gently, anchoring himself as he slid further. He exhaled shakily, and his breathing turned ragged, his lips parting as he lost himself in the feeling. “Feels so good…*hic* better than I imagined—” he murmured, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually inside you.

As soon as Satoru pressed fully inside you, he froze, his whole body tensing as if he’d been struck by lightning. The heat, the way your walls clung to him, warm and tight, had his eyes fluttering shut, his head falling back in pure, unfiltered bliss. A deep groan escaped his lips, raw and needy, and he gripped your hips so tightly you could feel the tremor in his fingers.

“Fuck—” he choked out, his voice thick, barely coherent, as he tried to process the overwhelming sensation. His head dropped forward, gaze dazed, his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling. “So… s’ fucking tight,” he muttered, almost in disbelief, his words catching as his hips gave an involuntary thrust. “God—you’re… clenching around me so perfectly—”

You felt his fingers digging into your hips as he rocked into you again, the motion instinctive, almost primal. His restraint shattered in an instant, and he began moving with a newfound hunger, his hips snapping against yours with an intensity that had his head spinning. Each thrust made his eyes flutter, his lips parting as he gasped for breath, his mind barely able to focus on anything but the sensation of you wrapped around him

He buried himself deeper, his pace turning relentless, desperate. His lips found your neck, teeth grazing over your skin as he panted, “Feel so fucking good, can’t—can’t stop…fuck!” He sounded wrecked, completely undone, his tone almost pleading as he kept moving, his rhythm wild and unrestrained.

Satoru’s eyes rolled back as he lost himself in the feeling, the pleasure flooding through him too intense to control. “Pussy’s so *hic* warm,” he slurred, his words muffled as his lips brushed over your skin, his hips pressing into you harder, needier, every sound you made only pushing him further. Each thrust felt deeper than the last, his breaths ragged, desperate as he surrendered completely, letting the sensation consume him.

Satoru’s movements became a frenzy, his hips snapping against yours with a desperation that was almost uncontrollable, his breathing erratic and voice reduced to hoarse groans. Every inch of you enveloped him in a warmth so tight that his composure shattered with each thrust, his hands gripping you as if afraid to let go.

“Fuck—can’t… can’t get enough,” he mumbled, his voice rough, eyes half-lidded as he stared down at you with a dazed, almost feral hunger. His mouth found yours, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss, messy and demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you deeply. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming in heavy pants as he looked at you, captivated, overwhelmed.

Your moans and gasps only fueled him, every sound you made seeming to push him further over the edge. His hands roamed your body, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to pull you even closer, his thrusts rough but filled with raw need. “You feel… so fucking perfect,” he murmured, barely able to get the words out as his rhythm grew erratic, his hips moving instinctively as he chased the building pleasure that was consuming him.

Lost in the sensation, his pace faltered, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate. He pulled you tighter against him, his body shuddering with every thrust, his head falling to your shoulder as he let out a deep, broken groan, his voice strained and breathless.

“God… can’t… gonna come…soon” he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and helplessness as he felt himself teetering on the edge, holding on only by a thread as he lost himself completely in the warmth of you.

With each thrust, Satoru’s body trembled, his breath hitching as he felt himself nearing that precipice. The warmth enveloping him tightened further, the way your walls pulsed around him driving him wild. His movements grew more frantic, instinct taking over as he chased the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

“Please—please..” he gasped, desperation lacing his words as he quickened his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room. He was lost, intoxicated by the feeling of being inside you, and it was as if everything else faded away. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of you, tangled together in a whirlwind of passion.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, the heat pooling in your core intensifying with every movement. “S’toru… yes—yesss just like that,” you encouraged, your voice breathy as you matched his rhythm, pushing him closer to the edge. Your words seemed to ignite something primal within him, and he let out a deep, guttural growl, thrusting into you with abandon.

“Fuck—so good… you’re so good,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back again as he felt the pleasure building rapidly, tension coiling tightly in his belly. Every sound you made, every gasp and moan, drove him closer to madness. He could feel the pressure mounting, an almost unbearable intensity that threatened to consume him completely.

“I can’t hold back much longer,” he warned, his voice low and strained, nearly a whine as he fought against the overwhelming need to release. “I want to feel you—want you to feel me…”

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you completely, his body shaking as he let go, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. “Oh—fuck!” he cried out, his voice echoing with a mix of ecstasy and disbelief as he came, filling you with warmth. His body quaked with the intensity of his release, and in that moment, everything faded into pure bliss, leaving only the two of you tangled together, breathing heavily in the aftermath

As the waves of pleasure began to fade, Satoru’s breath came in uneven gasps, his eyes still glazed with the aftereffects of the ecstasy he’d just experienced. He looked down at you, the warmth of your bodies still mingling, and a sudden thought struck him—a spark of wild desire that seemed to take over his senses.

“Marry me,” he blurted out, the words tumbling out with an urgency that surprised even him.

Your eyes widened, momentarily caught off guard. “Wha—what?” you stammered, disbelief flickering across your face.

“I know it’s crazy since we just met, but… you’re just—so amazing, and I don’t wanna let you go! That was—” he hesitated, a dreamy look crossing his face as he recalled the sensations. “Your pussy’s s‘ good. I can’t just… I can’t just walk away from this. I don‘t want anyone else now..”

You let out a soft laugh, a mixture of incredulity and amusement bubbling up inside you at his unfiltered honesty. What is happening? you thought, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had brought you here. “You don’t even know my name!” you exclaimed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I don’t need to know,” he replied, leaning closer, his eyes half-lidded with that intoxicating mix of lust and affection. “I just know you’re incredible. It’s like—like fate or something. I want you to be mine, like— forever.”

His words, though impulsive, were laced with sincerity, and you could see the way his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, even as excitement radiated from him. This is insane, you thought, but there’s something so genuine about him. “You’re serious?” you asked, searching his eyes for any trace of jest, but the sincerity in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Dead serious,” he confirmed, his expression earnest but still slightly dazed, the effects of what had just transpired clearly clouding his thoughts. “I don’t want to waste any time… so, uh, what do you say?” His voice wavered slightly, betraying his nervousness despite the confident facade he tried to maintain.

Could this really be happening? you thought, your heart racing at the idea of such an impulsive commitment. You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest at his unexpected proposal. “Alright, let’s see where this goes, Prince,” you replied teasingly, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “But you better be ready for more than just this.”

“Y-yeah! Totally!” he stuttered, his enthusiasm shining through the haze of lust. “I’m all in. Just… just tell me your name, and I promise to be the best husband ever.”

© fvsm4x : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

[dollyyun]

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT ✧ P.JS [ PART 1 ]

PAIRING ✧ sugar daddy!jay x fem reader GENRE ✧ 18+(mdni), adulthood, 12 years age gap (reader is 22, jay is 34), ceo!jay, strangers to lovers, fluffs, soft love kinda, he falls first and falls harder, jay is a huge simp WARNING ✧ slow burn-ish, lengthy fic, some dramas, misunderstanding and miscommunication, angst, jealous-possessive!jay, explicit themes WORDCOUNT ✧ 41.7K

SYNOPSIS ✧ jay park is famously known for excelling in anything he does, except his mundane love life — it's practically nonexistent. maybe it's the pressure that constantly presses down on him due to being surrounded by his peers who are either engaged or married, but he no longer desires to retain his solitude, yearning to find someone with the intention to settle down. that is when he finally meets you — the perfect woman just for him, and perhaps the one that his heart and soul have been searching for in a long time. but the only issue is that you only see him as your sugar daddy, or so he thought.

PART 2

-smut warnings under cut-

smut warnings: lengthy and possibly badly written smut, unprotected sex (no!), soft dom!jay, semi-mean dom!jay, sub!reader, reader whines and whimpers alot, ready is needy, pussy and tit lover!jay, lots of kissing, crying, name calling, daddy kink, making out, degradation, manhandling, dry humping, fingering, clit and nipple play, choking, ass and tits spanking, rough sex, eventual mild vanilla, squirting, creampies, overstimulations, multiple orgasms, aftercare, idk what else..

Love used to be a foreign concept that piqued a minuscule interest within him, as it served him no purpose, a sentiment so inconsequential to a man whose time pirouettes across the monotonous routine of corporate life.

Sure, a part of him revelled in the promiscuous attention from the ladies of all classes that inflated his ego, acutely aware of his sexual appeal that he took advantage of whenever he needed a reprieve from all the stifled emotions that stemmed from the taxing work and weighty obligation as a CEO, eventually leading to a coition with ladies of his pick that happened occasionally, but he felt nothing close to love — only pure lust. By the time the coitus came to an end, the lascivious attraction he once felt towards those same ladies dissipated as quickly as he diminished the hope of those who keenly desired him more than just their one-night stand. 

Perhaps his desireless interest in love and dating stemmed from the fact that his parents rarely ever displayed affection and love towards one another throughout the years he grew up in the dull household that was completely devoid of any warmth or even the parental love he once yearned for. The warmth and affection he only ever received was from his nanny and the friends he made in his adolescent years until he reached the maturity to make a rationalised decision that he didn’t need love, not when all that mattered to him was to prevail against his dictatorial parents.

Hence, after years of different hurdles and industrious dedication to get where he is now, he has become a notable CEO who independently and successfully managed to establish a major corporation that now holds a valuable standing in today’s high society, one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country, and whose reputation surpasses the ones in the same league as him in the business industry. Most importantly, he has successfully freed himself from the clutches of his parents by demonstrating his far greater capabilities than they had often underestimated.

But eventually, years of prioritising his work-life and undervaluing the importance of love come bearing repercussions on his singularity that he once preserved. Despite being a successful business tycoon who wields the power and wealth that intimidates those in the same league, he certainly isn’t feeling successful now in the slightest upon the dejecting epiphany.

Park Jongseong, otherwise known as Jay Park, the preeminent CEO who evokes both admiration and intimidation from the masses of those in the high society of business, whose name is often uttered with quivering lips from those lower in hierarchy, whose confident demeanour seemingly exudes an indestructible security, and a pragmatic businessman who has been known to be apathetic towards marriage, is now ironically facing a predicament that involves his overt desperation in finding a suitable partner for him.

Jay can’t pinpoint the exact moment of this deep yearning for love ingrained within him, but perhaps it has to do with his aristocratic mother, who once reached out to him to inform him that he’s of the age to be wed for the umpteenth time, or it’s the pressure that constantly presses down on him due to being surrounded by his peers who are either engaged or married. Not to forget the repetitive questions that pertain to marriage, which he often receives from his peers whenever he is needed to attend an event.

Initially, Jay decided to dismiss such trivial matters as he was very much content without a significant other, but as time passed, he began to feel a profound loneliness whenever he was in the presence of couples or the passing love stories being exchanged in the others’ conversations. He tried to ward off the longing of a lover, but what was once a morsel of interest in love has entirely consumed him. He couldn’t even bring himself to invite other women to his bed like he used to, and it’s been approximately four years since he ever got laid, promising himself to be devoted to his future lover.

From there on, Jay knew that he no longer desired to retain his solitude, yearning to find someone with the intention to settle down. So he began to try dating with the help of his trustworthy best friend, but none of those women sparked any interest within him, nor did they meet his standards, which was ironic because he genuinely had no idea what he was actually looking for in a partner. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that those women he dated in the past didn’t really understand him, nor did they bother to get to know him other than ogling over his looks and desiring only his status to elevate their standing in high society.

Now, Jay knows what he truly wants, and that is to form a connection with someone who can reciprocate in a way he longs for. As it’s been months since he last went on a date, he decided to reach out to his best friend once more, but he definitely didn’t expect the latter’s new solution to be absurdly unconventional.

Jay assesses the content displayed on his phone screen again, and this time, with clear judgement in his eyes as he glances over at his best friend, who is lounging on the three-seater tuxedo sofa that is situated near the floor-to-ceiling windows of his own office and who is also currently grinning ear to ear. Jake Sim.

“So this was why you needed my phone for fifteen minutes?” Jay asks him slowly, as though he’s having a hard time grasping what he had just read, twice.

“I couldn’t miss out on any of your details or information. Plus, I had to go through your photos and upload some of your pics on your profile.” Jake groans dramatically, as if he had finished doing a task so laborious when all he had been doing was typing away on Jay’s phone with snickers escaping him intermittently. “Gotta say, you have a knack for taking great pics of yourself, for someone who hates getting his pics taken.”

But the compliment has no effect on the disbelieving male. “I’m looking for a potential partner that I can really connect with, not to acquire a damn sugar baby.” Jay grumbles, his eyes briefly glancing at his phone screen before a sigh escapes him as he rubs his faintly throbbing temple. “I might as well go back to one of the dating apps again.”

As it turns out, Jake decided that to extricate Jay from his prolonged predicament, the solution was to register the latter into the system of a rather crude app, which its purpose serves to benefit both parties — by both parties, it refers to sugar daddy and sugar baby, but these labels are only applicable once the transaction between both parties is finalised.

It’s risky on Jay’s end, as this would lead to the potential risk of damaging his reputation as well as the company’s if word got out that he had acquired a sugar baby, which would obviously insinuate that their relationship is purely yet risquély sensual, considering that sugar daddies and sugar babies are generally frowned upon. But in full honesty, Jay knows it himself that he’s untouchable, and nothing could ever mar his high-standing reputation or his company since he had been through worse — this has been proven when some of his nemeses attempted to destroy his empire back in his late 20s.

“I hate to break it to you, but none of the dating apps worked out for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake reminds as he casts Jay a knowing gaze.

Right, how could Jay have forgotten? To be fair, he had been on countless dates that were either set up by Jake or due to the dating apps that he exploited. Most of the women he had met and dated shared one thing in common despite coming from diverse backgrounds — they were all highly sophisticated and educated with impressive careers and undoubtedly materialistic, practically in his league. Still, none managed to captivate Jay’s interest, which Jake found bizarre and even told him that he fumbled big time with those ladies that could’ve been his wife by now. But what Jake didn’t understand is that neither of those — careers and status — mattered to Jay.

Jake notes the incertitude in Jay’s protracted silence before heaving a sigh. “It can’t be that bad, mate. Plus, this app is legit. Look at the reviews!”

“Legit, you say? For all you know, those reviews might turn out to be an artifice in order to attract users.” Jay asserts sternly before narrowing his eyes at Jake with suspicion. “Wait, have you used it before?”

“Nah. One of my employees told me how he met the love of his life through this app. In fact, some of my employees did.” Jake divulges, earning an inquisitive eyebrow raised from Jay. “This app is practically surpassing any dating site when it comes to effectiveness. In a way, it’s similar to a dating app with the addition of sugar babies getting the financial benefits, obviously.”

“That’s the thing, Jake. I’m not looking for a sugar baby.” Jay reiterates exasperatedly, but he can’t deny the growing interest at the prospect of having a sugar baby; well, more like the idea of his sugar baby being affectionate and giving him the attention he desired entices him.

“It won’t hurt for you to try.” Jake reasons with him, all the more to amplify that interest within him. “Besides, it would be a win-win for you, except you’d have to spend your money on your sugar baby— I mean, your future lover.”

Please. Even if Jay had managed to find the right one for him elsewhere, he wouldn’t mind spending his wealth on his lover unconditionally. The idea of his future lover spending his money feels just gratifying to him.

But the dubiety lingers in the recesses of his mind. “I don’t know, Jake.”

“This may or may not be your last resort if you want to find the right one for you, mate.” Jake’s words quickly dispel any worries or hesitation from Jay’s mind as the latter caves into the incessant temptation, now trying to navigate his way and familiarise himself with the app.

After getting the hang of it, Jay begins to check out the profiles of the sugar babies with a swift yet definitive swipe of his thumb. His face eventually twists into a grimace, almost as though he feels repulsed, rendering Jake, who has been observing him, curious.

“They’re all too young for me.” Jay expresses his concern, and he doesn’t bother to look up at his best friend, who ambles over to him before towering over his seated figure from behind.

Jake makes a noise that sounds as though he’s in disbelief. “What are you talking about? These ladies are only in their 20s, some probably still in university, but they’re all of legal age.” Jake counters, his tone bordering on such offence that Jay rolls his eyes at. “And you’re not that old. If you are, then what does that make me?” 

Jay ignores Jake as he continues to swipe on his phone. In all of his dating experiences, most of the women were older than him by a few months or years, and the youngest he’s ever dated was a twenty-four-year-old, but that was when he was twenty-eight. Now, he’s thirty-four, and the idea of dating a woman a decade younger than him just feels strange, even if they are of legal age. 

Just when Jay feels tempted to give up, a sugar baby captivates his interest the instant after he swipes the previous one, almost as if he has been bewitched by one look at your face. The previous sugar babies that he swiped are not exactly unattractive, but something about you seems highly appealing to him.

His heart gradually beats fast, almost erratic, while his eyes remain fixated on your face, feeling as though he has developed a ridiculous yet temporary crush on a passing stranger whom he knows that he would never see again, because damn, you are absolutely gorgeous.

Jay feels a compelling urge to pamper you like you deserve, be it with his money or time, and he couldn’t care less if you’d want more for as long as it’s his wealth that you’re spending or if you’d want to take up all of his time. Just the thought of it has him feeling a strange bubble of giddiness in his chest.

Jake leans forward in a bending position to get a good look at your face while his hand rests on the rear of Jay’s ergonomic leather chair. “Oh? She’s cute. Might want to send her a request.” Jake approves with a Cheshire grin on his face, earning a brief glance from Jay, but the latter’s thumb remains hovering above his phone screen, evidently hesitating to swipe or not. “I’m telling you that she’s the right one for you! I have a good feeling about her.”

Jay doesn’t respond to his best friend, feeling his tongue-tied as he taps on your profile, only to be distracted by other photos of you, albeit none is explicit. His eyes widen just a fraction as they feast greedily upon your hypnotic visual. Some of the photos display your full stature, and his mind resorts to producing such a vision that entails you having to tiptoe for your lips to meet him with your arms around his neck.

He quickly wards off the vision before deciding to read every detail and information about you with keen interest. You’re only twenty-two, the youngest sugar baby he came across after the tedious swiping earlier, and you indicated that you’re fresh out of college. He concludes that you’re a homebody upon reading your interests and hobbies. You’re also a foodie, which is perfect since he loves the idea of feeding his significant other with his impeccable cooking skills. But an info about you captures his attention, his eyes widening just a fraction while his heart pounds harder in his chest.

“Harvard University? She went to the same uni as us!” Jake points out in a gleeful exclamation as he pats Jay’s shoulder approvingly. “This is the exact reason why you should pick her. It’s fate.”

“I don’t know. I mean, she clearly indicated that she’s fresh out of college. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m being predatory.” Jay mutters, feeling disheartened as newfound insecurity rouses within him. He takes another look at your photos longingly. “Plus, I’m probably way out of her league.”

Even the words that leave his lips feel so foreign on his tongue, an unusual insecurity hitting him, but there is no doubt that a gorgeous woman like you has high standards. Plus, even by your photos alone, there is a refined charm exuding from you, a compelling allure that intensifies his newfound attraction towards you, but undoubtedly unparalleled to his own charms. And yet, he still wants you.

Jake eyes Jay in sheer disbelief, looking as if the latter grew another head, because after knowing him for years, no woman has ever made Jay insecure or less confident. Heck, he looks as though he’s just been rejected by you even before he could send you a request to chat.

“Are you really the Jay Park I know right now? You’re the damn CEO with a net worth of, like, what, more than your competitors’ combined? Trust me, she would want you. And you’re not being predatory when she’s already an adult.” Jake tries to uplift his best friend’s spirit, but the latter remains glum, eliciting an annoyed sigh from him. “I can’t believe I still have to do shit for you.”

In a blink of an eye, Jake snatches Jay’s phone away from him, prompting him to snap out of his gloomy rumination. “Hey! Give it back!” Jay barks out, abandoning his seat to retrieve his phone, but Jake is quick enough to put some distance between them and holds his palm out to the agitated male.

“Don’t get your pants twisted now. I’m only helping you to send a request to her since you’re taking an awfully long time. Don't want other sugar daddies to snatch her first.” Jake says with a sly grin before pressing on the request button option in a deliberate motion to piss him off.

“I can do it myself.” Jay grumbles as he manages to retrieve his phone. He looks down at his phone screen with a frown, but panic immediately drains the colour from his face. “Shit.”

The grin on Jake’s lips falls, concerned for his best friend. “What’s wrong?”

“She accepted my request!” Jay tells him in urgency while there is a weird sensation of an adrenaline rush within him. He paces back and forth, his eyes occasionally glancing down at his phone screen. From the way Jay looks incredibly worried, Jake would have mistaken that he’s facing a business bankruptcy. “Fuck, what do I do next?”

“Dude, seriously?” Jake scoffs loudly, feeling both annoyed and amused at how Jay already seems so whipped for you to the point where the sight is almost pathetic. No, really. The guy looks as if he had accidentally sent his love confession to his crush. “You’re fucking ridiculous. I’ve never seen you being so—"

“Are you going to help me out or not?” Jay cuts him off in a snappy tone, casting a glare at Jake, who is beginning to look exasperated by his eccentric behaviour.

“Just send her a damn text!” Jake bursts out in annoyance with hand gestures. His face contorts into a scowl as Jay has yet to make a move. “Don’t tell me you need me to do it for you too?”

Jay releases a shaky breath as he gathers his emotions that have been going haywire from the moment he swiped to your profile. His face hardens with determination. “I got this.” 

Jay sees a tiny green dot just below your miniature profile icon above, indicating that you’re online. He tames the odd yet annoying flutters within him as he proceeds to send you a text, hoping that it won’t come off awkward to you.

JAY: Hey.

You don’t think you could ever repay your best friend the way she truly deserves, not even with money. You could say that she’s your saviour because without her, you would probably have ended up living in the streets years ago the moment both of your parental figures decided to pursue their mutual interest in building their own respective families.

Though Sabrina is your saviour, you can’t exactly describe her as an angel. Sure, she has the face that is worthy to be worshipped, a dazzling beauty with her doll-like features, but she has the mouth of a sailor while her angel-like demeanour is a stark contrast to her vivacious personality. Still, no complaints from you, though, because only you know the pure benevolence of her heart.

Sabrina and you have always been attached at the hips since day one, since the day she fiercely defended you against the mean girls back in high school, since the day she saw the mistreatment you received from the ones who shared the same blood as you, since the moment she regarded you like her family, just as how her family became yours — the only time when you received familial love from the very people who treated you better than your own blood ever did. Heck, her parents practically raised you under their roof and regarded you as their daughter.

You will forever feel indebted to Sabrina and her family despite their sincere insistence on showing such kindness to you and the familial love that you once yearned for from your parents, for helping and supporting you in any way they could despite your adamant protests, and for being the reason why you clung onto the sliver of hope that life was still worth living.

But right now, a part of you feels tempted to eradicate that obligated debt you once held earnestly, your mind slowly spiralling into chaos while your eyes smoulder with unspoken ire as you assess the content on your phone screen before returning your gaze to your best friend.

“What did you do?” You ask her calmly, remaining eerily composed as opposed to the myriad of emotions that are embroiled in the storming chaos within you.

Oh, you know exactly what she did, and you may or may not resort to such undignified violence.

“I’m not quite sure what you meant.” Sabrina feigns innocence as she is comfortably perched on the couch, batting her naturally thick eyelashes at you in deliberation that aggravates your restrained wrath.

You raise your eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because I don’t recall signing myself up to be a damn sugar baby.” 

You were rightfully appalled upon the discovery of an unfamiliar app that’s tailored for those in need of both fast cash and affection from older men after you had just finished showering. You shouldn’t have left your phone alone with your best friend, and you should’ve changed your password sooner.

“Fine. I might or might not have registered you on that app on your behalf.” Sabrina finally concedes, grinning at you cheekily despite the storms she can see above your head, her senses alerting her to be prepared for the imminent wrath. “Plus, I’ve already accepted the right sugar daddy for you! And he’s hot!”

Her words fall deaf to your ears, and the next you know, your restrained wrath goes unbridled that propels you in charging towards your best friend, whose pretence drops.

“I’m going to kill you!” You bellow furiously, eliciting a girly shriek from the blonde as she is swift enough to remove herself from the path of your wrath, leaping over the couch.

“You can’t kill me! I’m your only best friend!” Sabrina cries out defensively, putting more energy in her legs as you continue to chase after her, practically running around in the living room of your shared apartment.

“And you’re about to be a dead one!” You yell out after her, feeling short of breath while the exertion in your body reminds you of your poor stamina, but in a fit of rage, you are relentless, even as she manages to outrun you. “What in the world were you thinking?! A sugar daddy?!”

Now, Sabrina is standing across from where you are with the couch that serves as a barrier between her temporary safe haven and your raging wrath. She pants lightly to catch her breath as you do the same. “I was trying to help you!” She reveals earnestly, her tone laced with desperation and sincerity.

Help. The word itself revolts you, even after receiving help from her and her generous family throughout your teens. It triggers a switch in you that has you retaliating in defence against the familiar thoughts that have been a constant plague in the recesses of your mind, how pitifully impotent you are, especially considering your current situation.

Sabrina means well; she always has, despite her mischief and her wild streaks —  you know that much. But perhaps the repressive denial of your protracted predicament has finally caught up to you, as you now bitterly acknowledge how these past months were a bleak dwelling in the resentment and misery of your own failure despite the facade you put up in front of the others that seemed so impenetrable.

“How is finding a sugar daddy going to be any help to me?” You decide to pour the remnants of your rage by grabbing a pillow on the couch and aiming at the blonde-haired before repeating it again with the leftover pillows. “I’m not about to sell my body in exchange for money!”

“Not all sugar daddies are into it for sex!” Sabrina counters vehemently as she dodges your relentless attacks. “Some are actually decent— stop throwing pillows at me!”

Surprisingly, you come to a stop — more like because there are no pillows left to throw at her. “And how do you even know that?” You struggle to retain any decorum after the torrent of outbursts, your demeanour placid, but at least you don’t feel as murderous as you were earlier.

“Heard from a friend.” Sabrina replies tersely, eyeing you warily as you appear deceptively calm. Upon seeing that there are no traces of murderous intent in your countenance, she heaves a sigh, her blue eyes softening with a familiar sentiment. “Look, I genuinely want to help you because I know how much you’ve been struggling financially after what happened.”

You recognise the sentiment in her eyes — a catalyst that once ruptured the harmony in your dynamic with her, nearly severing your only true friendship — all because you had too much pride to accept her help in alleviating your burden by offering you money to pay off your tuition fees, and since your judgement was clouded by the torrent of emotions, you couldn’t help but feel insulted as she thought that you were completely helpless, especially since she knew that you were working as a part-time librarian at your university while still committing to the obligation as a full-time student.

You briefly look away from her gaze, your jaw locking with tension. Right. Money. In the end, it all comes down to the instability of finance — the primary cause of most problems and, sadly, a common hurdle that affects relationships and mental health, because the harsh reality is that money will always be consequential, especially considering the inflation in today’s capitalism.

Unfortunately for you, your current predicament is considered critical, and whether you like it or not, Sabrina is right. You have been struggling financially ever since you were dismissed from your employment at an illustrious cafe that required you an hour to commute from your place — well, technically, it’s your shared apartment with Sabrina, and it’s signed under her name, but she has been living with her boyfriend since graduation, rarely ever residing here now.

Hence, you decided to take responsibility for all the bills as a form of repayment for all the times she’s helped you throughout high school. Sabrina was sceptical at first as she was worried that you might feel pressured, but of course, you reassured her with confidence that you were more than capable of handling everything. Besides, you had always done everything on your own in those times without Sabrina and her family to witness the true constant battles you had to face. There were some things you needed to keep hidden from them, even if a part of you implored you to seek help from those within your reach.

You return your gaze to her after the prolonged silence and sigh deeply. “So you thought getting me a sugar daddy was the solution?” You ask wryly.

You know damn well what sugar daddies are and the purpose they serve to their clients, or rather, sugar babies. No matter how dire your financial situation is, as it’s been a month and a half since you got sacked by your employer, you could not imagine yourself earning money through an unvirtuous method. Even so, older men are really not your type.

“It’s the easy and fast way to earn money.” Sabrina attempts to entice you, to which you roll your eyes since you know that much. Still, you can’t deny the spark of temptation within you, and you blame your desperate need for money. “Besides, you’re a total hottie. Just one glance at any of your pics is enough to captivate their interest.”

“You flattering me does not excuse you from getting a beating— wait, what? My pics?” You splutter out your words, your eyes widening in disbelief, completely appalled at the idea of strangers, particularly old men, swiping through your pictures.

“Yeah, I uploaded some on your profile.” Sabrina beams with a smile, completely unfazed at your display of horror as you rush for the dining table to retrieve your phone. “It’s a requirement, anyway, for your potential sugar daddy to check you out.” She adds, agitating you further.

Your fingers move in frantic motion as you navigate your way on the damned app before finally finding your profile. Your eyes widen upon seeing the pics she uploaded. “Sab!” You exclaim in a whine.

“I know! I chose your best ones!” Sabrina gushes, looking smugly proud of her picks as though you are not currently shooting daggers at her with your eyes. “Sure, glare at me all you want. I just know you’ll thank me.”

You grumble your annoyance under your breath before begrudgingly diverting your attention to the phone screen. You tap on the notification icon and spot the username that has you scoffing lightly. Jay_Park, a basic username — not that yours is any better, but to be fair, your best friend was the one who created it for you.

You reluctantly proceed to check out the sugar daddy who had interest in you by tapping on his username while deliberately displaying your disinterest in your countenance to your best friend, only to be flabbergasted by the pictures he had uploaded; even his face in the miniature profile icon is striking enough to grab your attention at one glance.

“He’s hot.” You blurt out, your eyes never straying off his pictures. He is undeniably attractive despite most of his pics only displaying part of his face due to the angle he took, but you trust your judgement as you know that his broad body build screams total hotness, particularly his angular jawline that looks like it could cut your finger.

Not only is this user Jay_Park attractive, but every one of his pics gives off high sophistication, and none of his pics are as explicit as you had expected, like a hideous ripe dick pic of an old man or something. You have a strong feeling that he may be different from the sugar daddies you once perceived.

What was once barely a minuscule of interest has evolved into an unfamiliar keenness, and it’s pathetic to you, all because he’s possibly the most attractive man you have ever come across, and there is no way you would want to pass up this opportunity.

Sabrina shoots you an I-told-you-so look after studying the unconcealed fascination on your countenance. “See? I knew you'd be interested in him.”

Your eyes skim across every detail about him, his hobbies, and his interests until a certain piece of information has your lips turning down into a frown, feeling dubious. “But he’s way older than me.” 

In fact, he’s 12 years older than you. Though dating is not exactly your forté, you have never dated or had a fling with men older than you by three years. The last fling you had was with a guy who was two years older than you, an engineering major, who also turned out to be an inconsiderate jerk.

“Babe, he’s only thirty-four. The older he is, the more experienced and better he is in bed. On top of that, he’s a CEO!” Sabrina emphasises in a resolute tone, but you only cast her a numb look, eliciting exasperation from her. “Hello? A literal hot CEO sent you a request, which means he’s interested?”

You already knew that when you were reading up on his profile, which is why you are numb to the conflicting emotions within you. A part of you fears the possibility of being deceived by this man who may be a fraud because it’s too good to be true, but then if he’s indeed legit, then why would a CEO himself be interested in you? You don’t even feel like you could meet his standards.

But before you can speak your mind, your phone vibrates in your hand, drawing your attention, only to feel your heart pounding in your chest upon seeing the pop-up notification on the screen.

[Jay_Park sent you a message!]

“Shit.” You begin to panic, your emotions going haywire while your mind is devoid of any rationality, unable to even think coherently.

Sabrina eyes you weirdly with a confused frown. “What?”

“He sent me a message!” You tell her frantically, pacing back and forth, which has your best friend rolling her eyes at. “What do I do?! I’m not even prepared for this! And it’s all your fault!”

“It’s my fault, we get that! Just reply to him quickly, or he’ll lose interest!” Sabrina exclaims, a blend of excitement and frustration glittering in her blue eyes as she receives no response from you. She takes quick steps forward and places both hands on your shoulders, snapping you out of your mini spiral, her stern eyes drilling into yours. “Girl, calm down. Just text him back as normally as you can. Also, be cool with it and try not to come off as too desperate. Some sugar daddies get turned off by instant desperation. Don’t ask why.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips before you hesitantly nod your head, being coaxed by the confidence and determination in your best friend’s countenance. She takes a step back from you, allowing you to pace yourself as you look at your phone screen again.

Biting down your bottom lip, you nervously proceed to reciprocate his message, your hands trembling slightly as you hold your phone.

YOU: Hi!

You cringe visibly as soon as you hit the send button, uncertain whether or not your greeting came off as too eager, and you rarely ever use exclamation marks whenever you text unless you need to make a point or feel pissed. But you are taken by surprise when he replies to you quicker than your best friend does.

JAY: I have to be honest, doll. I’m not really sure how to go about from here.

“He’s a fast texter.” You tell Sabrina, your tone indicating that you’re impressed by the bare minimum while your heart races at the nickname he called you. No guy has ever called you any nicknames other than babe.

YOU: Is this your first time being on this platform? JAY: Embarrassingly, yes. YOU: It’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s my first time too, so I have no idea what we’re supposed to do next.

“I knew that I had accepted the right one.” Sabrina remarks with an approving grin as she notices that your attention is fixated on your phone. She grabs her purse from the coffee table before ambling towards the main door. “Well, babe, I’ve done my part, so you’re on your own from here.”

“Huh?” You lift your head up, confusion fogging your vision briefly before you realise that she’s indeed leaving you as she slips on her wedge heels. “Sab! You can’t just leave me—“

“Toodles~ Let me know once you officially become his sugar baby!” Sabrina cuts you off in a ramble, quickly shooting you a pearly smile before she heads out in haste.

You scoff, your eyes still staring at the space that she once stood before, and you reluctantly force yourself to deal with what she started like an adult. You muster the courage to reply to the text that he sent two minutes ago.

JAY: Just for confirmation, does this mean that you’re interested in being my sugar baby?

You feel a bubble of giddiness in your chest just by the word ‘my’ alone. The idea of being his sugar baby wouldn’t be so bad, you think. He’s handsome, evidently wealthy, a fast texter, and the tone of his messages feels amiable.

YOU: I am, unless you have other options in mind to consider? JAY: No other options to consider when you’re the only one who caught my interest. YOU: I find that hard to believe. Surely, other sugar babies must’ve caught your eye before you found me. JAY: None is my type. YOU: Are you also implying that I’m your type? JAY: What do you think? YOU: I’m usually not anyone’s type unless they want me for a quick fuck.

You didn’t mean to be vulgar with your texts, especially when your sugar daddy is a sophisticated man who most likely rarely ever curses, but you wanted to be straightforward.

JAY: Are you also implying that I’m interested in you simply because I want to sleep with you? YOU: Isn’t that what sugar daddies in general are interested in? They pamper their sugar babies with their wealth, and in return, sugar babies please them in bed. JAY: Well, my interest differs from theirs. YOU: I’m sorry if I sound rude, but why are you on this platform in the first place if your interest differs from theirs? JAY: To put it shortly, I was looking for a partner that I could connect well with, romantically. YOU: Shouldn’t you be on a dating site instead? JAY: In fact, I have, multiple times actually. But it didn’t work out for me. YOU: So you’re not actually looking for a sugar baby? JAY: Not really, but after going through your profile, I changed my mind. I’m interested in pampering you with my wealth and attention. You don’t have to offer anything in return. The only thing I want from you is to be able to spend time with you. YOU: Oh. JAY: Did I upset you in any way? Or is there anything you’re not fine with? YOU: No. It’s just that I’m still trying to process this because, honestly, it sounds too good to be true. JAY: It’s fine. Take your time. YOU: But can I completely be honest with you? JAY: You sure can, doll. YOU: I’m really glad that you’re not a creep, as in you didn’t straight up send dick pics or the fact that you’re not being passive-aggressive.

A part of you wouldn't actually mind if he did send a picture of his dick, but you immediately brush off the thought, your cheeks flushing warmly.

JAY: I wouldn’t dare to make a gorgeous doll such as yourself uncomfortable. I also had a feeling that you weren’t into that kind of stuff.

Based on your experience, men usually find you cute or pretty, but to know that a very attractive online stranger, who you will regard as your sugar daddy, finds you gorgeous evokes a strange bubble of giddiness within you. 

YOU: Thank you for your consideration :) So, gorgeous doll? JAY: Are you uncomfortable with the nickname? I’m sorry. I got carried away. YOU: Don’t be! I’m actually fine with it. Just didn’t expect you to find me gorgeous. JAY: Of course, I do. I’m sure you look even more gorgeous in real life. YOU: Such flattering words from a handsome man himself. JAY: Look who is being a flatterer now. YOU: Have you seen yourself?  JAY: Don’t make this about me, doll. YOU: I’m not. I’m just pointing out that you really do look handsome, even if those pics only showed half of your face.  JAY: Nothing is more flattering than a darling doll such as yourself finding me handsome. 

You continue the conversation with him, your lips stretching into a wide smile while your eyes sparkle with an avid interest in your sugar daddy, albeit you exchange such flirtatious words with him that render you in wonderment, because you actually have no idea how to flirt without cringing at yourself, but with Jay, it just feels natural.

JAY: Anyway, I just want to let you know as well that we don’t have to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.  YOU: Are you sure? JAY: Yes. Your comfort matters to me. Besides, I can wait for you for as long as I need to.

Such salacious thoughts begin to fog in your head before you quickly expel those thoughts, inhaling sharply, but you know that you have now developed a desire for this man.

YOU: That’s so sweet of you. Thank you, Jay. JAY: Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t properly spoiled you with anything. Speaking of, are you available tomorrow? YOU: Yes. Why? JAY: To meet you, of course. YOU: Sure, tomorrow it is. JAY: Great. I’ll pick you up at your place.

You continue to chat with him a little longer than you intended, including giving him your address and getting to know a little bit more about him. Eventually, you lose track of time, feeling a little too comfortable chatting with a stranger, as though he’s your long-lost friend instead of your sugar daddy.

JAY: I’m on my way to your place, doll. Can’t wait to see you :)

That was forty minutes ago, but you’ve been anxiously checking his message every so often, your nerves going erratic to the point where your empty stomach churns unpleasantly that you feel the urge to throw up. You have never felt this extremely nervous before, not even for your finals back in college.

You can still feel the weight of exhaustion in your eyelids that threaten to close, but the thought of Jay ringing your doorbell keeps you conscious. You couldn’t sleep well last night, tossing and turning on your bed, and you knew that it was either the excitement or the nervousness of finally meeting your sugar daddy that prevented you from getting a good night's sleep.

Plus, you had to get up four hours early to do some light chores in order to make your apartment look neat and to make yourself look as impeccable as your skin, which is devoid of any unnecessary hair since the dress that you’re currently wearing displays more skin than you intended. You didn’t put in much effort in your makeup, just the perfect volume to enhance your features.

You let out a quiet groan at the realisation of the effort you put in just for a man, an older man at that, which is also utterly ridiculous, because it’s as if you are keen on impressing your sugar daddy, and this is not even a date, or is it?

The doorbell chiming throughout the apartment startles you, prompting you to abandon the couch as you pad across the living room to get to the main door. You don’t bother to check through the peephole, your hand immediately latching on the door handle, albeit your nervousness remains unabating.

Before you can spiral further, your hand has a mind of its own, because the next thing you know, you are greeted by a very handsome man whose stature towers over your figure in an imposing manner, and he’s the very same man who happens to be your sugar daddy.

You can barely check him out when his dark eyes compel yours, your breath hitching in your throat at the sharp intensity in his dark irises that intimidates you, but in a good way that has your heart beating rapidly like you had just made eye contact with your crush. You take the opportunity of the awkward silence to trace every feature of his face with your keen eyes — how remarkably handsome he is with his chiselled forehead and jaw, his flawless nose that evokes envy within you, his dark eyebrows that look naturally refined, and his lips that are naturally pink. His jet-black hair is styled impeccably in a slick back, enhancing his striking face. Oh, he’s absolutely the most gorgeous man ever.

Little do you know that while you are in a state of intimidation due to his potent yet irresistible aura that feels overwhelming, Jay feels just the same, his tongue completely tied the moment you opened the door. It is as though he’s seeing an angel, rendering him starstruck. Those pictures of you that he spent almost the entire night admiring did not do you justice, because you look radiantly beautiful up close that even the constellations in the starry sky pale in comparison.

His eyes roam around you shamelessly, his throat feeling parched while his mind is storming with such dangerous thoughts he has been trying to keep them at bay. You look sweet yet alluring at the same time as you are adorned in a blue floral printed dress that reaches above your knees, revealing the perfect curves of your legs, and the subtle low cut displays your dainty neckline that is bare of any jewellery, to which he makes a mental note to buy you one. He fights off the strong urge to ogle at your defined cleavage and how noticeably succulent the curves of your upper mounds are.

When his eyes return to your face, you are already staring at him with a small smile. Your shyness nearly has his knees buckling underneath him. He simply can’t believe that you’re real. Oh, what a wonderful privilege to be able to see you up close.

“Hi.” Jay greets you breathlessly, but you are more surprised at how soft-spoken he is, such a contrast to his unyielding facade that intimidated you earlier.

“Hi.” You reciprocate softly, and it is enough to shoot a Cupid’s arrow to his beating heart. Your voice sounds velvety, a mellow that soothes him.

Jay takes another look at you, blinking his eyes as though you are unreal. “W-Wow. You look—“ He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows a nervous lump in his throat. He softens with an awkward smile that completely charms you. “You look really beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You can’t believe how shy you are right now compared to the yapper you were last night when you texted him for nearly two hours. You take another look at him, feeling a strange flutter in your heart as you admire how he looks delectable in a button-down navy-coloured blouse that displays a teasing peek of his toned chest while his gold necklace complements his metal studs on his earlobes. “And you look really handsome.”

Jay is about to combust right here and now at your compliment that he has heard countless times from the ladies that pinned his attention back then, even more so when you beam at him with a slightly wider smile now. The weight in his hand immediately reminds him of what he intended to do after you opened the door before your breathtaking beauty distracted him.

“This is for you.” Jay extends his hand to you, prompting you to look down at a small bouquet of flowers in his grasp, but you can see the hesitation in the way his hand slowly retracts from you. “Unless you have allergies to flowers, which is totally fine. I can keep it—“

“I don’t have any, so don’t worry.” You reassure him, and without thinking twice, your hand quickly reaches out to accept his sweet gesture, only to feel a faint electricity when your fingers brush against his before you finally grab the bouquet from him. Your heart swells with something unfamiliar as you look at the flowers before meeting his kind gaze. “Thank you for these. It’s the first that someone has ever given me flowers on a first meeting.”

You almost wanted to utter the word ‘date’ because this is certainly not a date but more like a formal meeting with your sugar daddy as part of the first transaction. You mentally berate yourself for hoping for something that you were initially against and the fact that you only intend to regard him as your sugar daddy.

Jay’s bashful shell cracks when he adorns a smirk on his handsome face that has you swooning on the inside. “You can call me old-fashioned.”

“I love old-fashioned.” You decide to play along as you notice the spark of mischief in his eyes, but really, you do love yourself some old-fashioned.

“Are you ready to go?” Jay asks coolly, hoping that he doesn’t sound too eager as to how impatiently desperate he really is to spend the day with you.

“Yes. Just give me a sec.” You tell him while making your way to the shoe compartment, where you also place the bouquet on the counter, before grabbing your ankle-strapped heels.

As you return to him, you busily place your feet onto the heels before attempting to secure the strap around your ankles, only to be surprised when Jay gets down on one knee in front of you, rendering you flabbergasted. “Please. Allow me.” He insists without looking up at you, putting his hands into the task.

“It’s okay. I can do it myself—“ But your protest goes unheard as he secures the straps for you with such gentleness that it sends the weird flutter to your heart again, while the way his fingers brush against your skin feels electrifying.

Your eyes never leave him even after he’s done, his figure towering over yours again despite the heels that elevate your height. “Shall we?” Jay asks with a smile, to which you nod your head at before stepping outside of the threshold and locking the door.

The two of you proceed to make your way to the elevator, silence wrapping around you once more, but only less awkwardly. You chew your bottom lip out of habit, wanting to say something to dispel this awkwardness, but the heat of his body close next to you sends your head into a frenzy.

“Do you live alone?” Jay breaks the ice, and you silently thank him because you were slowly going insane. As soon as he presses the button, the elevator chimes open, and he gestures to you to enter first before he follows suit.

“Sort of.” You answer unsurely, earning a look of intrigue from him. You decide to explain shortly. “I live with my best friend, but ever since she got into a relationship, she’s rarely ever at our shared apartment, not that I minded. She can be quite a headache.”

His lips twitch into a smile, almost as if he’s fond of something. “My best friend’s the same too.” He chuckles lightly, but they sound heavenly in your ears. “What about family? Any siblings?”

“And here I thought it was my turn to ask you a question.” You say cheekily, your lips stretching a little wider as you feel inclined to be frivolous towards him after the lingering awkwardness dissipates into thin air.

His eyes narrow at you in a playful suspicion, followed by a broad smirk on his lips. “You’re a cheeky doll, aren’t you?”

“It’s only fair that I ask you a question after you asked me one.” You say in an airily manner, ignoring how his handsome smirk has your mind in a frenzy once more. “But to answer your question, I’m an only child. My parents are divorced, so I’m kinda my own now. Always have.”

Being an inherent observant that comes with an ability to heed the tone of voice, even the subtlest intonation, Jay recognises the underlying resentment in the neutrality of your voice and how he catches a fleeting sentiment he knows all too well in your eye, but the radiant smile on your face immediately overshadows any traces of somberness, albeit he is quick to grasp that family must be a sensitive topic for you.

“It seems that we have a lot more in common than I thought. I’m an only child too.” Jay says lightly in an attempt to dispel any sour feelings within you. He opens his mouth to say something, but the elevator chimes open, revealing the view of the basement parking lot. He allows you to step out first before he follows suit, guiding you to his vehicle. “So what’s the next question you have for me?”

“What made you become interested in me? You could’ve chosen other sugar babies.” You ask with genuine curiosity. The question has been lingering in the back of your mind all night. As he looks at you with an eyebrow raised, you try to search for something in his eyes, any falsehood or that he’s actually a bad guy with ill intentions, but all you see is the pure kindness that reflects the window of his soul.

“I just had a good feeling about you.” He answers with utmost sincerity, his eyes softening before giving you his signature smirk. “Besides, there was no way I would ever pass up a woman as gorgeous as you.”

A part of you feels so tempted to wipe away that handsome smirk off his face with a kiss, but you immediately ward off any inappropriate thought, diverting your attention to the sleek black Mercedes-Benz, his car.

Jay, being the gentleman he is, opens the passenger door for you, to which you shyly thank him before you carefully settle inside. Not too long later, Jay is right next to you, operating the functions of the vehicle that is wheeling towards where the main road is at.

The silence is accompanied by the music emanating from the radio, but it still isn’t enough to allay the newfound tension settling in your bones. You even distract yourself by discreetly examining the impeccable condition of the car that comes with a pleasant lavender smell before you notice the small bottle of fragrance diffuser that hangs in the air from behind the rearview mirror.

Something different flutters within you; how oddly intensifying it is, but one thing is for sure — you find Jay more dangerously attractive than the first time you felt.

You cave into the temptation to take a glance at him, only to nearly gawk at his strong yet flawless side profile, how his angular jawline looks defined up close. His countenance displays such cool impassivity, exuding an air of confidence compared to your meekness. Your eyes fall to his veiny hands before they travel lower; his sleeves had been pulled to his elbows, allowing the sultry veins that protrude in his arms and revealing a golden Rolex that latched around his wrist. You quickly look away, feeling the gradual heat building up in your body.

You swear that older men are not your type, but Jay may be the first to change that.

“Are you okay?” Jay asks, his soft voice startling you. The way he’s hot, a gentleman, a stickler for cleanliness, and soft-spoken? You must have done something incredibly honourable in your past life.

“Nervous, actually.” You tell him honestly, daring yourself to look at him as he briefly takes a glance at you before refocusing on the road. Though you still feel diffident, something about him compels you to confide your worries in him. “I just don’t want to mess things up on our first meeting.”

Jay cracks into a humorous smile. “Funny, because I had the same thought earlier.” Oh, he really did, worrying incessantly all morning that he might fuck things up by coming off too desperate for your attention on the first meet.

“Is this a date?” You accidentally blurt out the question you intended to expel, but a part of you is genuinely keen that this is actually a date and not just a formal transactional meeting between a sugar daddy and his sugar baby.

As the traffic light turns red, the car comes to a stop. Jay directs his full attention to you, a gentle smile touching his lips. “You can call it whatever you want, doll.”

You hold his gaze for a little longer, unable to fathom the inscrutable emotions behind the window of his eyes despite the unwavering kindness. You find yourself lifting a smile that mirrors his. “A date it is.”

Jay decides your first destination to be a fine dining restaurant in which he had booked a reservation in advance. Though your empty stomach rumbles lightly in approval, you can’t deny how out of place you are at an upscale restaurant, most especially to be in the presence of upper-class patrons, albeit Jay personally requested a more secluded booth since he values privacy.

Silence settles on your booth, not that you are bothered by it as you are too occupied in marvelling at the sophisticated decors that emphasise their opulence. The ambience feels exquisitely serene with the undercurrent of varying conversations from the other patrons indistinctly in the background, but they seem to tune out completely when your eyes are drawn back to the man seated across from you.

The pendant lights above your booth cast a gentle glow that creates a beautiful halo around his handsome face that is poised with concentration as he reads through the menu while you feel the familiar flutter in your tummy again. Everything about him is so charming, and you don’t think that you could ever get tired of seeing him every day. 

When his eyes flicker to you, you immediately look down at the menu in front of you on the table, feigning keen interest as you force yourself to read the names and descriptions of their dishes. You hope he didn’t notice that you had been gazing at him, but your ears perk up at the breathy titter that leaves his lips, causing your face to flush warmly in embarrassment.

“Anything on the menu that interests you?” Jay asks, amusement colouring his tone momentarily before it is replaced by the familiar neutrality of tenderness.

“I’m not sure.” You mutter, your attention now being fixated on the list of dishes, particularly the prices that perturb you, because how can a mere salad cost more than your favourite sandwich at your go-to coffee shop?

Though the bill will undoubtedly be handled by your sugar daddy, you feel highly conscious to choose even just a salad because of how pricey everything on the menu is. You flicker your eyes to him, allowing him to grasp your dubiety. “These look exquisite, but the prices—“

“Have you forgotten who you’re with, doll?” Jay intercepts gently, his lips curling into a smirk that borders on smug, but the assurance in his kind eyes dispels any doubts from your mind. “Don’t worry about the prices. Just order anything you want.”

Your eyes run through the menu again, but you can’t decide on which, eliciting a sigh from you before you look at him apologetically. “I don’t really know what to order.”

“That’s alright, doll.” Jay reassures you with a warm smile before he raises his hand slightly to call one of the waiters over. You watch the interaction between Jay and the waiter, displaying practiced professionalism in his manner as though he had done this many times. “We’d like to have the full course meals alongside your finest wine.”

Your eyes widen at his order. You wait until the waiter collects your menus and leaves your booth. “Isn’t that too much?” You ask Jay unsurely, your eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Nothing is ever too much.” Jay insists casually while his eyes greedily drink in your pristine beauty under the soft luminescence before they fall to your lustrous, glossed lips that look kissable. He clears his throat, warding off any sensual thoughts of how your lips would feel on his. “Besides, you did indicate in your profile that you’re a foodie.”

You stifle a groan, mentally cursing your best friend for adding unnecessary information about yourself, but then again, she’s not wrong. You are indeed a foodie, a connoisseur of food, according to Sabrina, but it doesn’t mean that you’re skilled at cooking. She even forbade you from touching any kitchen appliances as she was worried about the possibility of you blowing up the apartment, to which you rolled your eyes at her exaggeration.

“Right, how could I forget?” You cast him a sheepish smile before deciding to focus more on him now, your body slanting forward that displays your interest with your elbows resting on the table. “So, a CEO, huh? Must’ve been tough with all the heavy responsibilities that come with being a CEO.”

Though you lack the knowledge of what a CEO’s responsibilities exactly entail, you know enough that the fate of his company rests on his palm, and since you’re at it, you decide to make a mental note to do thorough research about him and his company during your spare time.

“It isn’t so bad. Guess I got accustomed to the work and its volatility.” Jay says coolly, exuding an air of confidence that awes you as you look at him with a newfound reverence. “But my employees are competent and trustworthy, so the company operates smoothly most of the time.”

Jay proceeds to divulge more about his work life, mostly the lighter stuff that gauges your understanding, and you notice how he talks about his employees with high regard, earning a small smile from you as you conclude that he’s not the stereotypical callous CEO that you used to read about in those fiction books.

During mid-conversation, the first courses of your meals arrive, served by the same waiter. The two of you decide to indulge your neglected hungers with a comfortable silence wrapping around you. The silence stretches on even when the second course of your meal arrives, but Jay intermittently checks on you, asking if the food is to your liking or if you need anything else that has your heart fluttering again at how attentive he is to you.

The prior conversation continues when the desserts are served that eventually appease your sweet cravings as the delightful saccharine touches your tongue. He tells you more about himself, particularly his general background, but you notice how he avoids mentioning his family.

“No way!” You gasp in surprise after what he had just revealed, your eyes sparkling with excitement while you feel an odd sense of adrenaline rush; probably the sugar that now invades your system. “You went to the same university as me?”

“Sure did, doll. I have the degree cert to prove it if you don’t believe me.” Jay grins, displaying his perfect teeth while you are distracted by the dimples in his cheeks, melting you on the inside. “I was a business major.”

“I majored in journalism.” You tell him. You know that the world is small, but you didn’t expect it to be that small. Maybe you are being delusional, but maybe the invisible string theory turns out to be true after all. Oh, how this intensifies the strange feelings that perturb your heart as each flutter brushes against it.

“That’s cool. Way better than business.” Jay says with a genuine smile, his eyes sparkling with interest.

You scoff lightly. “I doubt that. I mean, look at where it got you now.” You point out, ignoring the familiar bitterness of the searing truth, that while the people around you are succeeding in life, you are the only one who is falling significantly behind.

“It certainly wasn’t an easy journey because I started out with nothing, not even the support from my parents.” Jay finds himself unravelling the part that he intended to keep hidden, but seeing how evidently a good listener you are, he feels like he can trust someone else other than his best friend to listen to him in a way he wants. “Thankfully, my best friend was there to give me the support I needed, even if he’s a pain in my ass.”

“You don’t have a good relationship with your parents either?” You ask gently without realising that you have given away a hint that confirms his prior suspicions about the reason why the family topic is sensitive to you, not that he fares well with it either, but the burning resentment he harboured for years has now dulled, probably because he has long since come to an acceptance, thanks to the years of detachment from his parents.

“It’s hard to say. I’m still in contact with them, but only when it’s strictly necessary. Truthfully, they’re not exactly the ideal parents for me.” Jay divulges with a thoughtful hum as the memories slowly resurface in his mind, but the pain and resentment that he expected are absent, only a faint bitterness. “My father wanted me to oversee one of his established companies abroad while my mother wanted to marry me off to her business partner’s daughter when I was still a senior in college. But since I didn't want any of those, they threatened to disown me, so I decided to go about being on my own, even when I had nothing at the beginning.”

You feel a burning resentment within you on behalf of him, your face contorting into a displeased frown. You have no idea what sort of hurdles he had to conquer, but you know for a fact that no one deserves to go through it all alone without the support of family, even if the support is only emotional. Though you know that by his demeanour alone he must have made peace with this, the compassion in you towards his backstory hurts your heart.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You utter softly, your outstretched hand on the table itching to hold his hand to offer him some form of comfort. “You deserve to have parents who fully support you in anything you do.”

“I can say the same to you too, doll.” Jay says with a small yet knowing smile. He slants his body forward. “So, want to tell me more about yourself?”

You don’t really intend to, but you can’t seem to deny him, especially when his kind yet handsome gaze is simply irresistible. You know that he’s genuinely interested, but you fear that his perspective of you might change for the worse, which would lead to him discarding you aside and choosing another sugar baby, albeit you know damn well that most sugar babies had gone through financial tribulations that became the very reason they sought out those dependable older men. Still, you muster the courage, your lips quivering as you begin to speak.

“Nothing much. I’m just a broke alumna who graduated six months ago and who is also unfortunately unable to land a job related to my degree despite graduating with honours and the countless interviews I’ve gone through.” You unravel with practiced casualness, your demeanour betraying none of the turbulence of emotions within you, but then comes the dreadful realisation that rattles your composure as you look away from him. “God, I shouldn’t have said too much.” You mutter under your breath, but he catches onto your words quickly.

“No, honey, don’t be embarrassed with me.” Jay has no idea where the courage comes from, but his hand instinctively reaches out for your outstretched one across the table, holding it tenderly. “I promise you that there’s no judgement when you’re with me. I genuinely want to know more about you, be it your struggles or your hobbies.”

You search for any falsehood in his beautiful eyes, only to find nothing but stark sincerity that forms an emotional lump in your throat, feeling touched that this man, whom you’ve just met hours ago, is willing to genuinely listen to you, and he’s only supposed to be your sugar daddy, not a therapist whom you’re supposed to dump every trauma and problem on, but in this moment, his presence feels comforting in a way that a part of you has deeply yearned for.

“Like I said, there’s nothing interesting about me other than being the unsuccessful independent daughter who got sacked from her barista job.” This time, you don’t bother sugarcoating your words, and you feel less guarded as you continue while he holds your gaze firmly, as though he is silently assuring you that he’s listening with an open mind. “Not to forget that I’m way behind paying my bills. It’s my fault, anyway, since I told Sabrina that she could trust me in paying the utility bills and the rent. How foolish of me.”

Sabrina. That must be your best friend’s name. “Was that why you decided to sign up for this arrangement?” He asks gently, treading with his words carefully while his thumb brushes across your knuckles in delicate strokes, a gesture that sends little flutters to your heart.

“It's pathetic and desperate of me, I know. I should’ve at least tried securing a temporary job first before deciding to pursue this arrangement.” You mutter shamefully, your eyes crestfallen before a huff leaves your lips. “But to be fair, my best friend was the reason why I’m right here with you. She registered me on that app without my consent.”

“It’s not pathetic, honey, and I’m sure you’ve tried enough.” Jay reassures you while he silently thanks your best friend. He stops stroking your knuckles with his thumb and holds your hand firmly instead to draw your attention to his eyes that display emotions you can’t seem to decipher. “But do you regret it? Regret this?”

You haven’t exactly thought of that since most of the time, you were occupied with the annoying flutters in you as well as swooning over him. This time, you hold his hand, a faint smile touching your lips. “You haven’t shown me why I should regret it.” 

“I promise you that you won’t regret this. You won’t regret me.” Jay vows with conviction, his eyes hardening with resoluteness that oddly subdues any lingering doubts in your head. He brings your hand to his lips before kissing your knuckle tenderly, his lips warm and soft. “I’ll take good care of you and treat you as you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve anything.” You manage to utter despite the butterflies in your tummy, but they dwindle as your insecurities resurface, prompting you to avoid his gaze as you continue to unravel without faltering in the way you speak. “It’s obvious that I’m a failure. I used to be an overachiever and excel throughout my academic years, but looking at my situation now, it proves that I’m nothing without academics.”

“That isn’t true, honey.” Jay counters with a frown, hating how you’re disparaging yourself. “It’s normal to feel lost, having no idea what you truly want to do after graduating from university. You’re not alone on this, so don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s only been six months since your graduation, right? Give yourself some time.”

You look at him with a sliver display of exasperation. “For how long should I give myself some time? I just—” You hold your tongue just when you feel the tremor in your throat before forcing your voice to remain steady. “I just don’t want to feel helpless and useless all the time. I’m tired of feeling guilty about being unemployed. It brings me shame, especially when my ex-peers are thriving in their stable careers and their lives.” You say bitterly. “I feel like I’m stuck in this loop where nothing is ever going to work out for me no matter how many times I try.”

“Not everyone’s journey is going to be the same, just like how everyone’s pace in life is different.” Jay feels inclined to give you words of wisdom, needing to uplift your disheartened spirit despite your collected demeanour. “Just because you’re unemployed doesn’t mean that you’re a failure. Life is not all about work, you know?”

You can’t help the scoff escaping your lips, smiling wryly. “Says the guy who has been working hard for years to get to where he is now.” 

Jay chuckles at the irony, the sound rich and pleasant in your ears. “Fair enough, honey. But the point I’m trying to make is that you don’t have to constantly pressure yourself about getting employed. There is more to life than just work, and you’re still young to stress yourself out about this.”

“Well, the bills aren’t about to be paid by themselves and the current inflation in today’s capitalism is definitely wonderful.” You point out the obvious, sarcasm lacing your tone. 

Jay dismisses your remark. “And you mentioned that you were working as a barista, right?” He asks for confirmation, and you nod your head, earning a small smile from him. “That’s an accomplishment too, because you put in efforts to make a living, so you shouldn’t belittle yourself.”

“But I got sacked.” You tell him dejectedly, only to feel his hand squeezing yours comfortingly.

“It’s not your fault that the management was shitty.” Jay says so vehemently. “Besides, it’s their loss for losing a meticulously dedicated employee like you.”

“How would you know that?” You frown, your lips naturally jutting into a pout that captures his attention briefly before his eyes return to yours. “For all you know, I could be the type of employee that often slacks during her shift.”

“I can easily tell just by your personality alone. Plus, my judgement is never wrong.” He smirks, and oddly, you feel assured by him. His eyes roam around your face before they soften. “Don’t be too hard on yourself anymore, honey. You have me to depend on now. Allow me to ease some of your burdens.”

“That’s the thing. I’m not used to depending on anyone.” You find it strange how you easily divulge the hardest yet obstinate part of yourself that you refuse to let anyone know, including your best friend. Heck, even a small part of you is still debating whether or not to cancel this transactional relationship that barely begins.

“Like I said, I’ll take good care of you, so don’t worry too much.” Jay reaffirms, his tone being a constant gentleness yet firm enough for you to note that he genuinely means every word he says. “Just let me spend my money and time on you like you deserve, doll.”

Your breath hitches when he brings your hand to his lips, but this time, kissing your palm tenderly while his kind eyes never leave yours. “I’m sorry for dumping almost everything on you on our first date. I never intended to make things depressing.” You say sorrowfully, your eyes crestfallen.

“Don’t apologise. Something told me that you needed someone to listen to you.” He presses his lips into your palm again, and you can feel his smile. “And I’m glad to be that someone.”

“I did.” You tell him honestly, feeling a weight on your shoulders being lifted while appreciation gleams in your eyes. “Thank you, Jay.”

“Don’t thank me yet, doll. Our date is far from over.”

And Jay proves you right, because after giving the waiter who served you earlier a big tip as well as paying the bill, he drives you to the high-end shopping mall, which is a twenty-minute drive, and where you eventually discover that it has tonnes of flagship stores of luxury brands.

You don’t even have a say when Jay drags you over to a store, to which you are familiar with the brand since you have always wanted to own a Van Cleef & Arpels necklace, but it costs more than your salary as a barista. Of course, you have expected that Jay surely intended to spend his money on you, as any sugar daddy would, but still, you are very much surprised by how he easily whips out his black card to pay for your jewellery that he personally picked for you — a vintage Alhambra pendant necklace and bracelet.

Just when you think Jay is done, he guides you to another designer brand store, his hand clasping yours, bringing warmth to you. You genuinely have no say in anything, as he seems very determined to get you anything, no matter the price. Though you feel incredibly grateful to him, you begin to feel the exhaustion of just trying on and changing to different designer clothes for the past thirty minutes while he often does an examination on you before either approving or disapproving the designers you wear.

You look at your reflection in the mirror as you are adorned in, hopefully, the last dress that he picked for you earlier. You calm your nerves as you step out of the fitting room because you can't actually handle the way his dark eyes roam around your figure with such intensity for much longer.

“Is this okay?” You ask awkwardly, standing in his view while he is quick to put away his phone, only for him to almost choke on his saliva at your stunning visual, how the dress accentuates your contours impeccably. You frown, noticing how flustered he looks compared to how he was earlier. “Jay?”

Instead of responding to you, Jay shifts his eyes to the staff that has been assisting the two of you. “I need another dress that is similar to this one and get it packed along with the other dresses.”

You splutter in disbelief, attempting to protest that there are already more than enough clothes he picked, but Jay intercepts as he insistently guides you back into the fitting room with both hands on your bare shoulders, his warmth triggering the heat that builds up within you.

You have no idea if it is a norm for sugar daddies to pamper their sugar babies with the interests and hobbies that have been indicated on their profiles, but Jay sure is committed to yours, because the next thing you know, he has brought you to the famous book store that is a ten-minute drive from the mall you were previously at, and possibly the biggest one you have ever stepped foot into.

No complaints from you, though, because the moment you are surrounded by towering multi-tiered shelves, the book lover inside of you is elated. You don’t own many books since you already have the Kindle device, as it is convenient for you to browse, purchase, and read the ebooks of your liking. Ebooks are generally cheaper than physical books anyway.

So you take this opportunity to search for the next book that is connected to your favourite series since the author made the announcement on Instagram that book two has been published in printed copies. You hope that this book store has them.

“You really do like reading.” Jay lets out a breathy chuckle, feeling amused by your apparent enthusiasm as your eyes are practically sparkling while you seem to be searching for a particular book across the shelves.

“I love reading, specifically romance novels.” You correct him, your keen eyes never leaving the middle row until you spot the familiar book cover, eliciting an excited gasp from you. “No way! It’s here!”

Jay smirks, finding you adorable because you look like you have just won a lottery, and it deeply pleases him to see the radiance in your countenance, devoid of any worries or doubts. From the corner of his eye, he spots a stack of empty baskets at the side and decides to grab one before giving it to you. “Here.”

You blink your eyes at him, your eyebrows slowly furrowing. “But I only need one book, which is this.” 

But Jay is insistent, a trait that you have yet to get accustomed to. His eyes are firm with resolution, but there is a hint of softness. “Get yourselves some more, doll.” 

Since Jay obviously wouldn’t tolerate your refusal any further, you grab the basket from him before venturing aisle after aisle while he trails behind you silently, not that you mind. You also find yourself babbling to him about the books that capture your interest and the ones that you are familiar with while he listens attentively and gives his input whenever appropriate.

“I kind of had a feeling that you’d be the type to be into romance novels.” Jay points out his observation after taking note of every synopsis of the book that you babbled to him and noticing a specific element that relates to his current predicament.

“It’s probably the reason why I’m a hopeless romantic. Real life romantic love can never be compared to the written love on pages I’ve read.” You shrug your shoulders, missing the way he gazes at you with a peculiar longing as you eye down the books of your choosing in the basket that feels a little weighty in your grasp. “Plus, I love reading about love, even if that kind of love only exists in fiction.”

“I can make the love you want happen.” Jay accidentally blurts out what has been on his mind but realises that it’s a mistake as you tense up before looking at him with wide eyes. Shit, he fucked up.

You blink your eyes at him, feeling taken aback by what you have just heard. “Pardon?” 

“Uh, I mean, we could recreate any romantic scene in one of your favourite books if you want?” His rambles only make things worse for him, and for the first time, he looks completely flustered with his cheeks a faint hue of pink as he avoids your gaze. Before you can say anything, he grabs the basket from you in haste. “Forget anything I said.”

You are rendered speechless as you remain unmoving, your eyes never straying from his handsome figure while he makes his way to the checkout counter. Even from the back view, you can tell that he is still flustered. Your heart flutters again, and you can’t count how many times you have felt this odd sensation. But one thing you are certain of is that Jay being bashful is now your favourite sight to see.

After another round trip of shopping and desserts, Jay decides to send you back to the apartment since the time nearly strikes ten and the way your countenance seems a tad weary. He even insists on helping to carry every shopping bag into your apartment, but you refuse to let him do all the work, and since you are so obstinate, he allows you to carry the lighter bags.

“Your place looks homey, and it’s so you.” Jay remarks as he takes in his surroundings after placing the shopping bags on the coffee table, feeling an odd sense of tranquillity, the overall decor a polar opposite to his minimalist place. He meets your shy gaze and casts you a handsome smile that makes his dimples prominent on his cheeks. “I like it.”

“Since Sab now practically lives at her boyfriend’s, I thought that I should decorate the place to my liking.” You say with a sheepish smile before softening with a gratitude delicacy draping over your demeanour. “Thank you for buying me all of these. You didn’t have to, especially since we only met today.”

“Spoiling you is now part of my job, doll.” Jay drawls playfully, smirking when he sees you reciprocate with a playful eye roll.

“I mean it when I say I really appreciate your kindness and sweet gestures. Thank you, Jay.” You have no idea what overcomes the diffidence, but with one step towards him, you lean forward, tiptoeing just slightly to press your lips into his cheek and giving him a kiss of your gratitude, but your head spins as his strong cologne infiltrates your senses once more. He even smells as good as he looks.

Your lips linger on the soft texture of his skin before you pull away and look at him, only to feel your cheeks burning at the intensity of his gaze, leaving you to wonder if what you did pleased him or not. “So, I guess this is it.” You smile awkwardly.

“Don’t look so disappointed now, doll. You’re stuck with me, so you’ll be seeing my face more often.” Jay says, his tone holding a promise. “I’ll let you know our dates in advance, and I’ll surely fit you into my schedules.”

You give him a smile of assurance. “It’s okay. I know you’re a busy man, so you don’t have to do all that—” Your heartbeat goes erratic when he takes a step forward, closing the distance between your bodies. 

His dark eyes are devoid of the familiar softness, only an unfamiliar intensity that seems to take your breath away. “You can’t stop a man from what he wants, doll.” His voice is low, a palpable husk of something igniting a different type of heat within you.

“And what do you want?” You ask breathlessly, holding his strong gaze that continues to melt you on the inside. Your eyes fall to his lips, and you feel tempted to close the gap just to feel what the texture of his lips feels like. Are they as soft as they look?

The tension is short-lived when Jay leans down and presses his lips into your cheek, but dangerously close to the corner of your lips that intensifies the flutters in your heart, giving you a chaste kiss that now burns in your memory. He slowly pulls away and casts you a small smile. “Have a good night's rest, honey. I’ll see you soon.”

As soon as Jay steps out of your apartment, you finally give in to your buckling knees, holding onto the armrest of the couch for support while you allow your mind to spiral into a different type of chaos. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would have already scream from what just happened.

You’ve been kissed before, particularly on the lips, but no kiss has ever affected you this much, and it’s only a damn kiss on the cheek from your sugar daddy.

Just when you recover from freaking out over the smallest thing, your phone chimes loudly in your purse. You take it out to check, and you nearly experience a heart attack when you read the familiar notification of your digibank and another from Jay. The amount is significantly higher than your previous salary, and no doubt it will sustain you more than enough for a month.

[ A payment of $3000 has been transferred to your account ]

JAY: Hope you received the transfer, doll. You deserve it.

Days eventually blend into weeks ever since the transactional relationship with your sugar daddy has been established, and everything has been going smoothly, including the fact that you managed to pay off your monthly utility bills and the rent that were haunting you.

Initially, you felt conflicted about this arrangement, how the fundamental core of your independence remained obstinate in going against accepting any form of help, but somehow, he easily managed to erode the fire within you with his benevolence and compassion that didn’t feel overbearing.

So in a way, you submitted to him, essentially peeling off a layer of your vulnerability. He also earned your trust that you now seek solace in him despite him being your sugar daddy, but that’s the thing. You know that you only regard him as your sugar daddy, so why do you feel as though the two of you are genuine friends with benefits instead, except that there is no actual explicit exchange?

It is truly confounding to you because the fleeting spark of desire in those lustrous brown eyes of his is not lost on you whenever he gazes at you, particularly the times when the apparel displays your contours or excessive skin, but he remains steadily courteous, which feels peculiar to you since men like him obviously have needs, especially older men, according to your best friend. Honestly, a part of you wouldn’t even mind if he wanted to go beyond this friendliness, considering that it has been so long since you had sex.

Still, you have no complaints about this as you feel content with your current dynamic with him that you often forget that he’s your actual sugar daddy, and for the first time compared to your past experiences with men, everything he does and the words he speaks feel genuine with no perverse intent — how he has never asked for any inappropriate pics from you or told you crude remarks, how he never crosses boundaries except holding hands and sweet cheek kisses, how he validates your feelings, and most especially how he actually pays attention to you and listens to you.

Perhaps it’s the very reason why you instantly thought of Jay when you were being summoned by the inevitable once-in-a-blue dinner with your mother and her family during the phone call, but it felt more like your mother emphatically demanded your attendance since you purposely missed the last dinner.

Hence, Jay is currently driving you to the dreadful destination that has been ruffling your peace of mind while you struggle to maintain your perfect composure, hoping that he wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary about you other than the unusual yet stark silence from you.

But little do you know that Jay has noticed your discomposure in the way he recognises your habits whenever something rattles you — how your twitchy fingers often fiddle together, your eyes refusing to meet his, your bottom lip tucking in between your teeth every so often, and your eyebrows softly knitting together. It upsets him how you are clearly in distress despite your poised demeanour, and he wants nothing more than to relieve you.

“I’m sorry for asking you to come with me. You probably had other matters to attend to.” You break the ice, your delicate yet apologetic tone eliciting a disapproving frown from him. He takes his eyes off the road briefly to look at you, and he nearly feels tempted to change the destination at the look in your pretty yet frail eyes, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t need you and your support, especially since my mom is expecting you.”

Jay would feel honoured that one of your parents wanted to meet him since, according to you, you told your mother that he’s your boyfriend instead of a sugar daddy, which was more than understandable, if it weren’t for the fact that you obviously don’t seem the slightest bit happy to see her. He already develops a distaste for your mother. He has a strong inkling that you often receive mistreatment from her.

“If you apologise another time, I might have to do something to your lips.” He playfully warns, his remark eliciting a familiar flutter within you at the possible implication, but you continue to look at him apologetically. “Please, doll, if anything, I’m more flattered that you need my support and the fact that I’ll be your fake boyfriend.” Though the words ‘fake boyfriend’ leave his lips so easily, they definitely leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

You briefly divert your attention to the road ahead, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers that tempt him to hold your hand. “My mother, she can be quite overbearing, always nitpicking and criticising everything I do.” You say dryly, deciding to preface a little of what he can most likely expect later. “Plus, it’s been a year since I last saw her, so she definitely has a lot more to say to my face.”

Jay raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “A year?” 

“We don’t really have a good relationship.” You explain shortly, trying your best not to sound so brusque as you speak to him, but just the thought of your mother simply triggers you deeply. “Between my mother and father, I prefer my father’s company than hers even though he’s more absent compared to her. He has never cared much about me. They both don’t.” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m just the product of their failed marriage. It was doomed since the beginning.”

This time, Jay doesn’t bother holding back as he reaches for your hand while the other remains controlling the steering wheel. “I’m sorry to hear that, doll. You deserved so much better.” He looks at you again, frowning deeply as the worry is still evident in your countenance. “Hey, it’ll be okay because I’ll be right next to you throughout the dinner. Anything your mother may say will do nothing to change my feelings for you.” He reassures you softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently.

You instantly feel at ease just by his familiar touch. You give him your gratitude with a smile as you squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Jay.”

“I’d prefer you to call me honey or baby.” He briefly glances at you with an effortless smirk, sending the flutters to your tummy. “You know, to convince your mother that I’m your actual boyfriend instead of your sugar daddy.”

Your smile falters slightly at the reminder. “Right. She would probably beat my ass if she knew the truth.”

He places a quick kiss on the back of your hand. “I’ll protect your ass, doll. Besides, your pretty ass is mine.” 

Warmth weaves in your every vein while your cheeks go aflame at how casual those words left his lips. “Jay.” You attempt to chide him but fail miserably when he shoots you another smirk before giving a kiss on your palm.

Comfortable silence accompanies you throughout the rest of your ride, and not once did he ever let go of your hand, intermittently stroking the back of your hand with his thumb while you feel the incessant flutters at how he’s holding your hand with such reverence despite the firmness.

When Jay finally pulls up at the familiar driveway, your mood instantly sours, but with him by your side, you feel a little confident, knowing that you can get past this. You just have to endure the impending charade and tolerate whatever bullshit your mother and her family decide to provoke you with, but you definitely did not expect the type of bullshit where your stepsisters are quick to wear familiar masks that display their attraction towards your sugar daddy the moment you walk past the threshold. 

“Y/N.” Your mother comes into view, and for the first time, you feel grateful to her as your stepsisters’ tactics in vying for Jay’s attention have come to a stop.

“Mother.” You greet her in return, albeit tightly, as the familiar tension begins to brew in the air that even Jay can sense.

Jay quickly scans your mother, taking note of the familiarity of her elegance and sophistication in the way she dresses and the ambiance she exudes, reminding him of the elite ladies he had come across throughout his experiences in the business industry. Still, he finds her unimpressive, especially in the way her steely eyes are staring down at you with faint disdain.

Your mother shifts her gaze to him, seeming to be assessing him. “And I presume you are the boyfriend?” Her tone is as sharp as a knife, while the smile gracing her lips looks deceptive.

“Yes, he is.” You step in to speak even before he could introduce himself out of courtesy despite his distaste towards your mother. He notices the undertone of protectiveness in your demeanour, to which he suppresses a smile.

Your mother scans him for another time. “Dinner is not ready yet, but you can make yourself at home.” She says kindly to him while he hides the frown behind his mask at how she seems to be deliberately ignoring you.

Your mother pivots on her heels at the same time you drag him by the hand as you make your way towards the living room, but of course, your stepsisters continue their tactics until you cast them a withering glare, nearly wanting to wrestle each of them for thirsting over your man. Thankfully, they relent after you pull a stunt that indicates no possible way for their flirtatious attempt.

“Let me guess, they’re fakes?” Jay murmurs to you, his low timbre sending an unfamiliar blistering heat to your body, enough to distract you from the fury within you after having to witness your three stepsisters being brazenly flirtatious in front of you earlier, not that Jay reciprocated. In fact, the sight was just as painful as it was laughable despite your annoyance because he clearly wasn’t the slightest bit interested.

“Yeah.” You mutter back, hoping that you don’t sound too breathless, but the nonexistent space between you and him is not helping with how your head is in a frenzy as you are seated on top of his lap sideways to deliberately show your stepsisters that he’s yours.

Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as his hands roam around your waistline, as though he’s trying to memorise your curve while your arms around his neck loosen just slightly. You continue to speak, forcing your voice to come out strong. “They’re insufferable. Don’t be fooled by their acts. They’re probably coming up with another scheme to steal you away from me.”

Jay examines your face, and he recognises a fiery jealousy gleaming in your eye, eliciting an amused smirk from him. “Don’t worry, doll. I have my eyes on you only, and you’re the only woman worthy of my attention.” He hums, leaning forward to press his lips into your temple, an affection that leaves you breathless. “Which is why I chose you in the first place.”

“You know, you don’t have to start acting again.” You whisper softly as you look at him in the eyes daringly despite the warm flush in your cheeks. “My mother’s not even here.”

The familiar softness in his pretty eyes smoulders with an inscrutable emotion while his face is devoid of any mischief. “Who said I was acting?” His voice is a low husk, palpable with desire.

Your eyes accidentally fall to his lips, noticing how close the distance between your lips and his is. Just before you can cave into the familiar spark of temptation, your attention is being pulled away by your oldest stepsister, who is three years older than you, begrudgingly informing you to head over to the dining hall. A triumphant smirk curls on your lips when you recognise the jealousy in her eyes as you remain seated on his lap.

But you certainly don’t feel as triumphant as you were the moment you find yourself seated across from your mother, despite Jay’s presence being a constant support right next to you. You have yet to properly converse with your mother except for the earlier exchange of greetings, not that you intended to, as you can’t wait for this charade to end. You hope that your mother will not pull any usual captious stunt of hers, but knowing her, you can expect the worst.

You take a stealthy glance at your surroundings, hating how you are in the same space as the people you loathe. Though your mother and her family seem refinedly harmonious, you can see past this repulsive charade, knowing that it is only a matter of time before hell breaks loose, just like any other dinner you had with them in the past.

“So, Jay,” Your mother speaks up, causing you to tense up as you stop twirling the spaghetti with your fork rather absentmindedly. “Y/N informed me that you’re a CEO.”

A strategic opening that you recognise all too well, to which you nearly roll your eyes at. Of course, she would bring up careers first since she’s a businesswoman herself. You don’t bother to look up at her, but from the corner of your eyes, Jay seems casual, completely unaffected by this brewing tension only you feel.

“Yes, that’s right.” Jay confirms politely, though he doesn’t sound exactly amiable, but his demeanour is an unwavering neutrality, as if nothing and not even your mother’s possible strike could ever sway him.

“How long have you been dating my daughter?” Your mother asks, to which you begin to feel like she’s interrogating instead, your eye twitching in annoyance.

“For a year now.” Jay answers smoothly while you feel thankful for how he manages to think of an answer instantly, considering that you didn’t exactly discuss with him the thoroughly made-up story of your love lives.

“We met through a mutual friend.” You decide to add a lie, but your mother’s attention is solely fixated on him with a perverse interest that you recognise, causing your fist to clench under the table.

As you observe your mother, you see the way her icy gaze scrutinises him, as though something about him evokes suspicion within her. “And how old are you?”

“Mom.” You warn, not holding back this time, whatever it takes to defend your man against your birth giver. Your mother finally locks eyes with you, how they are devoid of affection or warmth that are only reserved to your stepsisters despite two of them not being your mother’s biological daughters.

“Thirty-four.” Jay barely feels offended about the question as he answers with ease, but he surely is displeased by how unnerved you are because of your mother.

Your mother directs her eyes at Jay, her lips frowning. “Aren’t you a little old for my daughter?” 

You really don’t have the patience for this. You set down your fork on the marbled surface with a sharp clink of finality. “Mother, that’s enough.” Your tone is enough for the rest of her family to resort to silence as they direct their attention to the familiar spectacle of animosity between you and her.

But your mother completely disregards your entire existence as she continues to speak to him with a calculated casualness. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m merely concerned about why a man of class such as yourself decided to settle for less than he deserved. Shouldn’t you date women who are more in your league with competent qualities?”

Ah, there it is, the ultimate aim to obliterate your self-esteem by obliquely humiliating you in front of your pretend lover, because your mother clearly despises seeing you happy. The familiarity of it all brings a faintly bitter smile to your lips.

“Agreed.” Your stepsister, who is three years younger than you, Chloe, chimes; her cheery voice repulses you the same when you catch her shooting you a taunting look just briefly. “Quite frankly, you deserve way better than our sister.” You don’t have the opportunity to utter a remark at her when your mother swiftly intervenes.

“Let me introduce you to my second oldest. Mia. She’s the same age as Y/N, but she has achieved many things compared to her peers.” Your mother flagrantly gestures to Mia, who is clearly pleased to have Jay’s attention to her now as she casts him a coquettish smile. “She managed to land employment in a corporation shortly after her graduation, and she’s an accountant, which I’m sure you two would have a lot more in common with.”

You refuse to look away from your vile mother, your eyes smouldering with an intensity that parallels the torrential storms of emotions within you while you struggle to preserve your composure. The weight of your wrath overwhelms the familiar wounds festering in your heart.

“Our oldest daughter, who is twenty-five, is a—”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t pretty much care for all of those.” Jay interrupts sharply, his tone pulling your attention away from your mother. The intensity in your eyes dwindles as you observe his countenance carefully, how he is undeniably frustrated but remains poised.

“I fell in love with your daughter not because of her job title or what she has to offer. I fell in love with her because of how much of an amazing woman she actually is.” He declares firmly with an irrevocable resolution before turning his head to meet your slightly widened eyes while your heart is pounding hard against your ribcage. “She understands me better than anyone else, and we connect well with each other. I don’t think I could ever be in love with anyone else that is not her. Your daughter truly is unforgettable.”

Your eyes never leave his while your surroundings fade into insignificance that not even the sudden pin-drop silence perturbs you. How peculiar, you think. Jay speaks those words with such ease and sincerity that it feels natural, as though he had prepared this in advance in order to deceive your mother and her family with this facade of your relationship, but his beautiful brown eyes speak volumes, and he looks like he’s completely enamoured by you.

Your mother clears her throat sharply, prompting you to break eye contact first. “I admire your devotion and loyalty to my daughter. Such a rare quality in men nowadays.” Her cordial tone is just as artificial as the smile on her red lips. “But to give you a piece of advice based on my experience, love alone is not enough to keep your relationship stable.”

The prior anger returns tenfold as it feels blistering in your veins. Even Jay’s presence next to you no longer feels like a tether to temperate in from acting impulsively on your emotions. “I don’t recall us asking you for relationship advice. An unsolicited one, at that.” You say too calmly, a deadly one that bristles two of your stepsisters.

“As your mother, I ought to give young lovers such as yourselves some advice. I know better than you do.” Your mother snaps, and finally the mask is off, now revealing her ire towards you with glaring eyes that level with yours. “And while we’re at it, you shouldn’t be in a relationship where you have nothing to offer to your significant other. For goodness sake, you’re not financially stable! You’re not even responsible enough to be a proper adult with a stable job!”

Silence settles right after her outburst, but it intensifies the tension in the atmosphere that is palpable to your senses. You look at her with an unwavering resoluteness, refusing to give in to her satisfaction of successfully breaking you once more. A humourless chuckle leaves your lips, shattering the deadly silence. You have no idea where this odd humour came from, but this time, you laugh out as though you find the situation hilarious while your mother eyes you warily as if you’re insane.

“God, I knew you’d reveal your true colours sooner or later.” You snarl coldly after swiftly recovering yourself, taking them by complete surprise. “You did not invite me over just for dinner — you wanted to humiliate and criticise me as if I didn’t have any dignity, like you always do, and deliberately at that once you got to know that I’d be bringing my boyfriend along with me.”

You can feel his eyes on you at the strong emphasis, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him, not when he’s witnessing the raw, ugly truth of your relationship with your mother when he shouldn’t be, bringing you to shame.

Your mother’s glare is as penetrating as her hatred for you. “A sophisticated man like him should be informed what kind of a woman and a daughter you really are.” 

“Definitely not your daughter, not anymore.” You retort, your body trembling with the onslaught of emotions that expel any rationality within you. You can even barely register the familiar warmth of Jay’s hand on yours as you intend to lash out with what you’ve buried for years. “You stopped being my mother the moment you decided to abandon me ten years ago by choosing your new family over me and father, and now you have the audacity to judge and criticise me in front of the love of my life?!”

You nearly scoff at the audacity of hurt in her eyes. “How could you say that to your own mother?!” She shouts angrily, and she harshly brushes off her husband’s attempt to calm her. “You were the one who chose to walk away from me! You rejected my calls and messages, so how dare you—”

The maelstrom of emotions within you propels you to rise abruptly, towering over your mother’s seething figure. “Can you even blame me?! You walked away first! So you don’t have the right to be upset when I was the one who constantly tried reaching out to you first when I needed you!” Amidst the sheer anger in your voice, there is a discernible crack that Jay recognises. The back of your eyes begins to burn familiarly, but your glaring wrath never strays from her. “But you prioritised your new family more than you ever did with me! You were barely a presence in my life even when I was a youngling! You didn’t even attend any of my graduations!"

“I’m glad I didn’t attend your university graduation months ago. It would’ve been a waste of my time because look at how you turned out to be! A useless woman who has no sense of her identity!” Your mother strikes down the part of you that you have always struggled with acceptance, causing you to falter from within.

She continues to lambast you with her familiar cruelty while you can feel the weight of devastation in your chest suffocating you. “You don’t even have a job to sustain yourself. And you have the gall to be in a relationship with a man who deserves more than what he settles for? You bring shame to your father and me! I refuse to be known as someone who shares the same blood as you.”

Still, your demeanour remains unyielding as you clench your jaw. “Then I guess we can come to an agreement that neither of us should continue whatever ties we had, not that it existed in the first place, considering you’ve been an absent mother since day one.” You tell her calmly with an icy finality. “Don’t worry about being embarrassed of me any longer, because I promise you that this is the last time I’ll ever be associated with you and the last time you’ll see my face. I’m better off without you, always have.”

There is a fleeting emotion in her eyes, and you can’t tell whether it’s regret or satisfaction, but you couldn’t care less as you grab your purse on your chair. “Y/N.” She calls for you, her tone indicating that she’s not done with you.

Without looking at her, you grab Jay’s hand while he is quick on his feet. You inhale deeply before forcing yourself to look at your birth giver right in the eyes with burning resentment. “Thanks for the dinner. The food's bland, by the way. Might want to hire a private chef since cooking is obviously not your specialty.”

You immediately depart from the dining hall with your pretend lover, even when she’s yelling furiously at you about your insolence and the strings of words about how you could never survive without her. You continue to walk away, not even realising that you’re gripping his hand so tight, but he doesn’t make any remark, and neither do you.

The silence prevails even after you have settled in the passenger seat, mastering avoidance as you refuse to look at the man next to you, because you know that it takes one look at his face for your resolve to crumble.

Jay feels like there is an intangible wall that prevents him from getting to you despite being in the same vicinity, how utterly helpless he is when you have clearly established your avoidance, but still, he needs to try. His grip on the steering wheel loosens just slightly as he looks at you. “Honey…"

You draw in a sharp inhalation as his mellow tone affects you just as easily. “Just drive, please.” You utter a soft plea while your throat hurts from the emotions that form into a painful lump.

Thankfully, Jay complies as he operates the functions that propel his vehicle to finally depart from the mansion that you won’t ever step foot into again, but your heightened senses detect the tension emanating from him, and even from the corner of your eye, his chiselled jaw looks taut just the same as his flinty countenance.

You shove down the bitterness at the presumption of him being frustrated at you, but it only seems to hurt your already wounded heart. You wonder what he thinks of you now after the relentless humiliation from your birth giver. You wonder if he’s reevaluating his judgement for choosing you.

You don’t even realise that you have been spiralling in the tumult of your emotions until the vehicle abruptly comes to a stop, prompting your focus on the view ahead. “Where have you brought me?” You ask him with a confused frown.

“Central Park. I figured that you needed some air.” Jay says lightly, his face unreadable as he looks at you, but a small smile touches his lips. “Come on.”

The next thing you know, you are walking hand-in-hand with Jay along the pavement at the park in comfortable silence while enjoying the evening breeze. Though the storms in your head remain unabating, you feel an odd sense of peace after the realisation that you managed to bravely sever any ties with your birth giver, which was long overdue.

You take a glance at him, your wounded heart bearing a flutter that soothes the ache faintly. But then comes the immense guilt that aggravates your emotions. “Thank you, Jay.” Your voice sounds fragile, unlike anything he’s ever heard. “And I’m sorry.”

Jay frowns, hating how unapologetically you look as your eyes are filled with immense guilt. “What are you sorry for?” 

“You shouldn’t have witnessed that.” You tell him honestly, halting your steps as you force yourself to let go of his hand, berating yourself for how undeserving you are of his warmth. You don’t look at him even as you continue to deliver your heartfelt apology, but your breathing goes rapidly. “I’m really sorry that you had to deal with my mother, and I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. It was improper of me—”

“Calm down, honey.” He places his hands on your shoulders, his tone being carefully measured but never losing its mellowness. His firm eyes search for yours, noticing how shaky your pupils are. “You have nothing to apologise for. You were upset and angry, rightfully so. Your own mother shouldn’t have humiliated you in the first place, let alone in front of a guest. It was improper of her.”

Jay knows it all too well, as he too had to face such humiliation from his father back when he was a fresh graduate, and if he’s being honest, he felt slightly triggered by the earlier spectacle, as it reminded him of the similar situation he once was in. Personally, you handled it far better than he did, how you never seemed to lose your composure even when he felt your hand trembling earlier, but your demeanour was admirably unyielding.

The stark sincerity emanating from him compels you to divulge more truths that you still resent. “She humiliated me in front of my ex-colleagues too when I was still working as a barista.” You say dejectedly while you struggle to fight against the emotions that threaten to leak in a torrent. “She didn’t approve of it and said that it's a job for uneducated drop-off college students.”

Jay scoffs in disbelief, anger burning in his chest because there is one thing that he absolutely despises, and it is the condescending people when it comes to a person’s occupation that they undervalue its importance simply because it is not up to their standards, such as your mother.

“That’s ridiculous. Being a barista is just like any other job. You were making an honest living.” He says harshly, shocking you at the display of ire that you had never once seen, but you know that it is not directed to you.

You know that you should stop from going further, but for the first time, you feel seen by someone in a way that you have longed for. “I even told her over the last phone call that I went for multiple interviews for jobs that were equivalent to my degree, but she shut me down, berating me for not being good enough, for not being worthy in anyone’s eyes, not even hers.” You release a shaky breath as you look down, blinking away the tears from blurring your vision. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m the problem because I didn’t try hard enough.”

Jay grabs you by the chin firmly before lifting your head up, his eyes hardened with resolve that feels oddly comforting to you. “Don’t let your mother’s words get to you, or even the judgement of others. They have no idea how amazing you truly are and how you are more than what they choose to see.” He speaks with such confidence that he almost fooled you into believing that you are enough, but the soft plea in his tone strikes a chord in you. “So please, don’t ever think or speak lowly of yourself.”

You don’t respond, knowing that you will return to the same cycle, but he is not having any of that as he cups your cheeks, forcing your eyes to maintain eye contact with him. “I need you to promise me, honey.” How peculiar, you think, to see such desperation that lies behind the devastation in his beautiful brown eyes, as though he is beseeching you not to lose yourself in the familiar spiral. “Promise me that you won’t ever discredit and belittle yourself anymore.”

“I promise.” You state emphatically, needing to reassure him as you have come to loathe how he seems to be hurting on your behalf. How peculiar, you think, as you are able to read through him when he’s usually enigmatic despite his gentleness and unexpected mischief.

Jay sighs softly before leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on the forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the warmth of his lips on your skin, but it is odd how it takes just a kiss on the forehead for the dam to break.

“I hate her.” You whisper, your voice fragile as it breaks in between while you struggle to restrain the whirlwind of emotions within you. You latch your fingers around his wrist, needing him to hold you still. “I hate her so much.”

Jay slowly pulls away from your forehead to look at you, his eyes softening as he recognises the emotions that you silently battle behind the windows of your beautiful eyes.

“Your feelings are valid, baby.” Jay says gently, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “You know, you don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to depend on someone else for once. It’s okay to cry too.”

Despite the weeks of pampering you with his time and wealth, Jay notices one trait of you that remains unbending, even after his generous assurance, and that is how you often refuse to accept anything from him other than money, since your relationship is still an official transaction, even though it would end up futile for you as he is just as obstinate as you. You remind him of himself back when he had nothing except to involuntarily depend on his best friend. It is truly a bittersweet feeling. Sometimes, he sees himself in you, as though you’re his twin flame despite the differences in your personalities.

A part of you still refuses to showcase your sheer vulnerability, how it remains guarded despite him having already earned your trust, but when you gaze deeply into his warm, kind eyes, the back of your eyes sting unbearably that they begin to accumulate rapidly with the tears you have been fighting off.

“I’m not useless.” You tell him brokenly, a tear rolling down your cheek that he gently wipes away with his thumb. 

Jay adorns a small smile that reflects his warm kindness, which only seems to break you apart from within. “I know you’re not, doll. You never were.” His tone is so gentle and so soothing, but it easily devastates the surge of emotions that have been vying to dominate your teetering composure.

“I tried.” You plead truthfully as the memories of those hardships you have gone through play in your mind, but your voice continuously cracks the same way the last of your resolve crumbles. An accidental sob escapes you. “I tried my best. I really did.”

It hurts his heart to see you being so broken and defeated when you usually look indestructible, as if no one can ever shatter your confidence despite your shyness occurring around him. “Come here, honey.”

As soon as Jay embraces you in his arms, you allow yourself to crumble as rivulets of tears descend on you, your arms latching around his torso as you eventually fall weak against him. You hold onto him like he’s your lifeline, fearing that he too would abandon you like your biological parents did.

Little do you know that his heart only seems to break over and over at the sounds of your heartbreaking cries, as though you had been harbouring this for years, prompting him to tighten his arms around your trembling body in an attempt to ground you to the moment, and that he’s here — he’ll always be here when you’re at your weakest point.

Nothing coherent is on your mind, only a torrential need to let out the tears you have been holding back for so long, your body racking with the onslaught of devastation. You can’t even remember when was the last time you ever cried, as you have only ever depended on the numbness that overwhelmed your senses to get you through the difficult periods in your life, because you knew that crying wouldn’t change a single thing.

“My efforts will never be enough for her! No matter what I do, it will never be enough!” You sob loudly, years of pain and resentment consuming every inch of you with such intensity that you have never felt before while your heart clenches painfully. You feel the dampness in the material of his top due to your tears, but you can’t seem to pull away from him as you desperately seek his warmth, needing to ground yourself. “I will never be enough for anyone.”

Something snaps inside of him that prompts him to pull you away from his chest, now cradling your beautiful tear-stricken face. “I promise you that you are enough. You are more than enough.” He punctuates each word with fierce conviction that imprints on your mind, the same way he looks at you as though you are worthy in his eyes. “Your worth is not determined by your achievements, your employment status, or anything that is measurable. It’s who you really are on the inside that determines your self-worth.”

“Am I really enough?” You ask shakily, your sobs dwindling while your breath stutters from the exertion, your fingers curl into fists as they rest on his solid chest. Your lips quiver as you muster the courage to speak the words that sit heavily on your tongue. “Am I even enough for you?”

Jay doesn’t lift a smile on his lips, but his features soften differently, particularly his warm brown eyes that are staring at you with a familiar longing. The gesture of his thumb on your tear-stained cheek in affectionate strokes sends a flutter to your wounded heart. “You always have been, honey. I wish you could see how I truly see you.” 

With every affectionate stroke on your cheek, it seems to mend on each wound your heart bears for years, albeit you know that it will take an indeterminate period to fully heal your withered soul with fragmented pieces of your morale. Still, you yearn for his touch deeply as you lean your cheek into his palm, feeling a strange sense of security emanating from him and how everything just seems to pale in comparison when you’re with him.

“Tell me that you see me.” and not just as your sugar baby, but the words vehemently refuse to leave your lips.

Jay gazes into your misty eyes deeply before a smile peculiarly knowing graces his lips. “I see you, honey. Always have.” He says sincerely before giving your forehead a kiss. “You are a remarkable woman who I know has ambitions of her own, and I’m a lucky man to have a woman like you in my arms right now.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at how easily he speaks such flattering words so easily that leave a profound impact on you each time. “You know, you can stop acting now.” You mutter, a familiar diffidence cloaking your once-fragile figure. “You don’t have to go so far to—"

Your breath hitches in your throat as he closes the distance between your faces, his eyes darkening with an unveiled want that feels borderline dangerous. “I told you earlier, didn’t I? I was never acting.” His voice drops to an octave that resonates deep in your core, and his eyes flicker down to your slightly parted lips. “And I’m not acting on what I’m about to do next either.”

With that, his lips descend on yours in a delicate kiss that sends sparks through your body, his lips fitting with yours perfectly while his hands that once were cupping your cheeks descend to your waistline, a gentle exploration that flutters your heart. He kisses you like how you imagined your first kiss with him to be — tender with a hint of firm urgency as though he’s been yearning for your lips.

The texture of your lips feels addictingly soft and tastes like cherry, a flavour that has become his favourite. He pours in every emotion he has been harbouring for weeks into the kiss, bordering on such desperation. You drape your arms around his neck as you kiss him back with equal fervour that propels him to deepen the kiss, lips occasionally parted as though you need air, but you need him more than ever; desperation is evident in each caress of your lips on his.

His tongue drags across the seam of your lower lip, compelling you to part your lips open for him to claim every inch of you, but when your tongue tenderly meets his, his head goes into a frenzy at the wet sensation, but he doesn’t want to go far, and so he slowly retracts his tongue before kissing you instead with an intense passion of yearning, hoping that you can feel every ounce of it.

You can feel your lungs burning from the fervent exchange of kisses before forcing yourself to pull away from the passionate lip lock. “Jay.” You utter his name breathlessly as you look at him with hooded eyelids, but the desire in your eyes is a reflection of his, and yet neither of you dares to breach that unspoken boundary.

“I was right.” His husky chuckles send butterflies to your tummy. He leans his forehead against yours, lips widening into a smile that showcases his dimples that you love while his grip on your waist feels like he has no intention to let you go. “Your lips are soft.”

Your fingers absentmindedly stroke his jawline that feels just as strong as he is. “You thought of my lips?” You ask softly, finding yourself lifting a shy smile that he’s head over heels for since day one. 

Jay pulls you closer until your body is pressed into his. “All the damn time, honey, you have no idea.” He whispers before closing the distance between your lips once more, sealing you into a kiss that confirms these complicated emotions swirling within you.

Your lips still tingle from the dreamy sensation of his lips while your mind is often a constant playback of the passionate exchange of kisses that happened last week, but you want more; you need more. You simply can’t get enough of his kisses, of him, and above all, you want him so bad that it hurts.

Even just the thought of him is enough to awaken the butterflies in your tummy, a newfound sensation ever since the clarity dawned on you.

“I think I’ve caught feelings for Jay.” You finally speak up, shattering the rare calming quietude in the living room as you are sprawled across the fluffy rug, staring into the white-painted ceiling.

Sabrina, who has been lounging on the couch right next to you, leans her body forward to peer down at you, her face contorting into a confusion despite her eyes glinting with curiosity. “Who?”

Classic Sabrina. Of course, she had forgotten who Jay was even after she was responsible for accepting his request. “My sugar daddy.” You tell her in an obvious deadpan, and recognition instantly glimmers in her blue eyes.

Sabrina heaves a sigh and places her phone down before adjusting to a more comfortable position to look at you better. “Girl, most sugar babies would usually catch feelings for their sugar daddies after the first few meetings.” She says matter-of-factly. “Some even go straight down to business in the bedroom with their sugar daddies on their first day, so it’s quite surprising that you haven’t pounced on yours yet.”

“Sab! Be serious! This is a very big deal for me!” You exclaim emphatically as you change into a sitting position to face her entirely. “I like him— no wait, I really, really like him.” There is no way that you love him, but you know for sure that your feelings towards him are anything but platonic. 

Sabrina studies you carefully, noticing the way your eyes gleam with an emotion so unfamiliar, especially after knowing you for years. “Can’t blame you. He’s super hot.”

You roll your eyes at her ever-unserious remark before sighing in exasperation. “It’s not just because he’s hot and attractive. He gets me, like really gets me, and I get him too.” As you divulge to your best friend, you find yourself smiling at the memories of him, recalling. “He always seems to know what to say and what I want to hear. He understands me better than anyone else, no offence.”

You worry that you might offend your best friend, but she erupts into chuckles, her face devoid of any unpleasantness. “Girl, please. You know that it would take a lot more than that to hurt my feelings.” She rolls her eyes playfully before looking at you with keen interest. “So tell me more about the man who has finally caught my girl’s heart.”

You beam at her, feeling much appreciation that she is willing to listen to you. “People often mistake him as someone who is arrogant and mean. Probably because they view him as the cold, stereotypical CEO, and his features are sharp and defined enough to intimidate them, but he is not any of those. In fact, he’s soft-spoken and a true gentleman at heart.” You list down the qualities and traits about him that you have grown to love, enthusiastically. “He’s incredibly thoughtful and kind too. I love how he always sees the beauty in everything despite their flaws, how he always seems to know what I want to hear even though I don’t tell him. He just...he just gets me!”

You sigh dreamily with your lips curled upwards. “I’ve never met a man so perfect, so dreamy, like him before.” As soon as you finish, you finally notice how unusually quiet your best friend has gone, prompting you to focus on her, who is staring at you like you’re an alien. A frown touches your lips. “What?”

“Oh, girl…You’re down bad, and I mean like really down bad for him.” She remarks, enunciating each word with strong emphasis while amusement dances in her eye. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you compliment a guy in detail, because you’d usually say shit about men in general.”

Sabrina has a point, as those experiences you had with men in the past were generally unpleasant. “He’s so different from the men I’ve come across.” You say truthfully, smiling again at the thought of him, but then comes the realisation of your next move. “So what do I do now?”

Sabrina gives you an obvious expectant look. “Just tell him that you like him.” 

You huff lightly. “I know that, but like, I’ve been—” You pause, biting down your lower lip in embarrassment as you look down at your hands. “I’ve been having thoughts about him lately.”

Sabrina narrows her eyes at you in suspicion, and considering she's been your best friend for years, it doesn’t take too long for her to put the pieces together, gasping dramatically. “You nasty slut! Was that why you wanted to borrow my vibrator?!” She exclaims with a gleeful smile. “You’ve been fantasising about the man of your dreams!”

You groan loudly and bury your face in your palms. “Gosh, this is ridiculous.” You mutter dryly, but she isn’t wrong. You have been fantasising about Jay hard, and you don’t think that you have ever fantasised about anyone like that, and that itself terrifies you because of how much of an impact he has made ever since he entered your life.

“So when will you get dicked down by your sugar daddy?” Sabrina asks casually right after she has calmed down from the weird excitement about the embarrassing discovery of you.

The reality hits you, and there go the thoughts that dim the hope in you. “I don’t know. I don’t know if he would want that. What if he doesn’t want me like that?” You ramble dejectedly, your eyebrows knitting together worriedly. “I mean, to be fair, we did kiss—“

“You did?! And I wasn’t informed?!” She interrupts with a disbelieving gasp, and before you can retort, she throws a pillow at you, which you catch swiftly, before she goes moaning, “Bitch, you know I love juicy details!”

“It wasn’t a big deal. It happened in a spur of a moment, I guess.” You state unsurely as the memory plays on your mind. You sigh annoyedly, hating how your emotions are going familiarly haywire again. “The point is, I want him so bad, but I can’t just tell him straight in the face that I want him to fuck me.”

Oh, you really do, particularly his cock that you have been craving for, and you have no doubt that he would stuff you full as you had noticed the size of his bulge that pressed against his pants. It’s not only pure fucking that you crave — his dark eyes penetrating into your teary ones as you moan pleasurably at his sheer girth, his strong, sweaty body pressing into yours as he whispers sweet yet filthy things into your ears, his lips claiming yours, his fingers interlacing with yours while he delivers slow yet shallow thrusts into your needy cunt.

You have a strong inkling that when he fucks, he does not only fuck, but every movement, every thrust, every kiss, and everything he does will be imprinted on your mind. Just the thought of it has your cunt clenching physically and your clit throbbing again.

“I have an idea.” Sabrina thankfully manages to distract you before you can spiral into your salacious fantasies again.

You raise an inquisitive eyebrow at her, feeling intrigued despite the mischief curling on her pink lips. “I’m listening.”

“What if you make him jealous?” She suggests, earning a confused stare from you. She huffs impatiently. “You know, flirting with other guys in his presence or just doing something in front of him that might trigger his jealousy.”

“How does making him jealous have any correlation to him wanting to have sex with me?” You ask her incredulously. “If anything, him seeing me flirt with other guys would definitely turn him off.” The last thing you need is to do something that turns him off.

“Isn’t it obvious? Jealousy always leads to sex; it happens. Well, at least to me.” She shrugs her shoulders, eliciting a sigh from you at her predictable confession. She startles you when she moves off the couch to sit in front of you, grabbing your hands keenly. “Girl, trust me, it’ll work! Especially since yours just so happens to be a sugar daddy, and they tend to be possessive over their sugar babies.”

Okay, that marginally entices you. You look at her in the eyes, the determination in them giving you a sense of confidence. “Fine. Maybe I’ll do it on this business event that Jay invited me to be his plus one.” You concede with a soft sigh.

Apparently, Jay informed you about a gala he was required to attend during last night’s video call — he prefers video calls instead of normal phone calls most of the time since he gets to see your face — and he invited you to go with him since he needed a plus one. Initially, you hesitated since you would be in the presence of highly sophisticated businessmen and businesswomen, people of class, but the look in Jay’s eyes easily won you over.

A frown touches your lips. “But I have no idea how to make him jealous when the gala will be filled with businessmen, and there is no way I could ever dare to go up to one of them and flirt, especially since I’m obviously not in their league.” You point out the realistic part of this ridiculous plan.

Sabrina gives you a deadpan look, as though you had said something that’s offensive. “I don’t know if you realise this yet, but you’re actually a hot babe. With that face and body of yours, you can easily pass off as one of those elite ladies. I’m not even lying!” Her tone is a rare sincerity that you surprisingly believe in, but still, you’d probably be dull compared to the refined ladies of class.

“Well, let’s hope jealousy will work.” You sure hope it does because Jay is a highly secure man, so it would be unlikely to evoke any jealous within him.

When the gala has finally beckoned, you find yourself having qualms about delving into an unacquainted sphere that is laden with pursuits of the high society and definitely not the type of crowd you prefer to be in, as you know that there will be those supercilious individuals similar to your mother. 

Your four-inch stiletto heels make a rhythmic yet expensive click, which echoes through the palatial hallway as you saunter across the marble floor to get to the dreadful destination just ahead of you, where the harmony of soft jazz and cadence of entertainment is a soft resonance that emits from behind the doors of the grand ballroom.

Your arm is looped around his sturdy bicep that feels comfortingly dependable, comparable to a safe haven, and so you surrender to the overwhelming sensation of your erratic nerves, allowing your composure to lose its tenacity and prompting him to ease his pace as he feels every tension emanating from you. 

A frown touches his lips as he observes your faintly distressed countenance, ambivalence swirling in your beautiful irises. “You okay?” He asks softly, drawing your attention to his warm brown eyes that showcase his concern. “I can feel you trembling, honey.”

You didn’t even realise that your arm around him had been trembling until he pointed it out. “Nervous, actually.” You tell him honestly, releasing a shaky breath as your shoulders go limp in dejection. “I just know that I’ll feel so out of place.”

For the first time ever since he met you, Jay feels like an inconsiderate fool for neglecting your comfort, and it is understandable why you feel that way. The thought of finally going to the customary gala with someone whose company he genuinely enjoys, aka you, overlooked the fact that you might feel uncomfortable being in the presence of imposing, pompous elites he knows all too well. 

His eyes roam around your beautiful face a little longer, whereas you avoid meeting his gaze, feeling unsettled as you are evidently brittle by the inevitable. He is tempted to bring you out to an extravagant date that you deserve instead, but he can’t ditch the gala that is hosted by one of his trustworthy allies.

“If anyone comes up to you and asks you who you are, just tell them that you’re my fiancée.” Jay says firmly, his tone marked with a finality that evokes conflicting emotions within you, one of which involves butterflies incessantly fluttering in your already-churning stomach.

Ah, so it’s no wonder why he gave you a gorgeous platinum Tiffany & Co. ring that has been sitting perfectly on your ring finger, matching with his, earlier when he fetched you at the apartment. You were genuinely surprised when he told you that the rings were brand new.

“But isn’t that kind of risky?” You ask with a frown, your words treading on reservation as rationality outweighs the delightful idea of being known as his fiancée. “Based on my research, your popularity in the business industry is equivalent to Beyoncé's. So to know about your sudden engagement would shock people. What if they start to speculate things about us? Your reputation would be tainted as a result.”

Jay knows that he’s supposed to be a little less worried about the possibility of you getting hurt because of his impulsive decision, but he continues to stare at you with a glinting fascination. “You did research about me?” He asks teasingly with an irresistible smirk on his lips.

Truth be told, it was a last-minute homework assignment that you decided to do last night since you couldn’t fall asleep, but it was thorough research that honestly helped you a lot in gaining some knowledge about the businessman whom you’re having strong feelings for, and to say the least, you were both impressed and daunted upon your discovery.

You look at him, feeling a sense of intimidation and a dangerous heat that teasingly unfurls in your core despite the familiar warmth in the depth of his eyes and his softened countenance. It baffles yet awes you that this is the same man who has had a hand in rightfully destroying the empire of his nemeses and at the same time amassing substantial achievements. He’s also renowned to be the most ruthless in the world full of business tycoons. But right now, he looks nowhere near capable of causing harm with how mellowed his features are as he gazes at you.

“Of course, I had to. You’re like a really big deal in the business industry.” You defend yourself, your cheeks flushing warmly at his avid attention as though you are something worthy. “Plus, I didn’t want to embarrass you in any way.”

The familiar shyness in your countenance strongly tempts him to kiss you, his lips tingling at the memory of your lips that happened last week. “Consider me flattered, doll. But you could never embarrass me.” He says sincerely, his once-softened eyes now hardening with resolution. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just stick to being my fiancée.”

“If you say so.” You mumble, and with a few steps forward, the hotel staff greets you before opening the door to smooth your way in. Once you enter, you are greeted by the resplendent lights illuminating the grand ballroom, but there is barely enough time for you to scan your surroundings when eyes are immediately on the two of you the moment you enter.

You lower your gaze. You can already hear the whispers and feel the judgement in their eyes that make your skin crawl with dread. Have they finally found out that you’re not one of their people?

“They’re looking at us.” You mutter to him, your arm tensing around his arm as you move closer to him for security.

“Can’t really blame them. Have you seen yourself?” His voice is low, but enough for you to catch onto every word. When you meet his eyes, they are roaming every inch of you with appreciation, but his low voice has a familiar husk of desire as he speaks, “You look truly exquisite, doll.”

Jay feels a sense of pride as you are adorned in the dress that he bought for you two days ago. The royal blue is a reflection of elegance and complements the satiny material, essentially enhancing your allure that he has always found irresistible. The dress itself hugs your curves perfectly, and the daring slit reveals the right amount of your gorgeous leg. The volume of makeup accentuates your already-beautiful features immaculately. A familiar heat unfurls within him as his eyes linger on the Van Cleef necklace and earrings he bought for you that are displayed proudly on you.

You look absolutely ethereal, straight out of his fantasy, and it doesn’t help that the feelings he harbours for you intensify when you smile shyly at him, a side of you only he can evoke. “Thank you.” You utter softly, forgetting about the background as you scan every inch of his handsomeness. “You look so handsome.”

Oh, he really does, and it takes every strength in you to refrain from pouncing on him in front of these dignified elites. His tailored black suit fits him impeccably, exuding understated luxury and enhancing his strong allure that brings a wave of intimidation to the other elites while his presence alone is capable of dominating this grand ballroom. His jet-black hair has been styled in a way that reveals a segment of his chiselled forehead, framing his features flawlessly without minimising the commanding presence that exudes from his striking face alone, which is the reason why every pair of eyes can’t help but to gravitate to him.

You notice how professionally guarded his dark eyes look, as though the businessman side of him has surfaced, but there is an unmistakable softness that is reserved for you as long as you are in his line of sight. “Oh? Do I now?” He smirks, his tone teasing as he leans closer to you, his Dior Sauvage infiltrating your senses deliciously.

You hum, refusing to back down despite your stomach being a whole damn zoo as he unrelentingly inches his face closer to yours that you don’t even notice him swiftly wrapping his arms around your waist. “You were always handsome.” You say without missing a beat, even when you’re melting into a puddle from within at the intensity of his handsome gaze.

“Tell me more, doll. I love hearing compliments from you.” He murmurs as he bumps his nose playfully yet affectionately into yours, feeling more eyes on them and hearing some faint gasps at the rare display of affection from him that they have never seen throughout the years he’s been attending such events with his previous chosen plus ones.

Your eyes fall to his lips, and you know that it only takes you just one swift movement to connect your lips with his, but a movement of an unfamiliar figure catches your eye that staves off your temptation. “Unfortunately, you’re about to have a taste of your popularity.” You mutter to him before stifling a laugh at the confusion in his face.

Before Jay can open his mouth, a manly voice eagerly calls for him from behind. “Mr. Park!”

“Fuck.” His voice is an attractive low husk as he curses under his breath, and as you listen closely, you can discern a faint growl of dissatisfaction in his throat that unfurls the heat in your core. Ever since meeting him, you realise that he rarely utters such profanities, but when he does, your core throbs with the incessant heat. 

“Don’t curse. It isn’t suitable for a refined man like you.” You admonish him playfully, your lips stretching into a grin as you are very much amused by his reaction.

Jay scoffs lowly, his lips curling into an attractive smirk again while mischief gleams in his eyes. “Cheeky one, aren’t you, doll?” 

Your eyes widen at the sensation of his fingers digging into your flesh, hard and quick but enough for you to grasp what just happened, eliciting a gasp from you. “You did not just squeeze my a—“ Before you can finish your sentence, his warmth leaves you as he proceeds to entertain a businessman.

Your cheeks flare at his unexpected action, and you have no idea whether it’s your face or ass cheeks that are flaring, but you know for a fact that you need a drink soon. The great part about being his plus one to this lavish gala is getting free exquisite drinks and food, but you decide to wait for him since you feel awkward going about on your own.

But soon enough, you realise that nothing feels more awkward than standing aside while watching your pretend fiancé getting pulled by socialite after socialite that feels maddeningly perpetual. You can see the efforts of Jay trying to extricate himself from every engagement wane, leaving you no choice but to attend to your rumbling stomach as you head over to the food section.

You know that you are too exasperated to feel self-conscious of the undesirable attention from those in your vicinity. It seems that you have underestimated Jay’s popularity among these socialites despite his daunting reputation.

You would have felt proud of him for all the deserving compliments you heard from those socialites if it weren’t for the fact that some women have taken advantage of their close proximity with him to blatantly touch or even grip his bicep, even after he politely declined them in the most subtle yet annoying way. Is it bad that you need him to straightforwardly tell them off or even shove one of them away from him?

With your fingers wrapped around the stem, you raise the glass to your lips and take more sips of the exquisite champagne that fails to quell your brewing ire, your sharp eyes narrowing at Jay, who is surrounded by more businesswomen, as it seems, and they look to be around his age, but highly sophisticated, as even you can discern their expensive aura from afar. As much as you hate to admit it, each of those women does look compatible with Jay. Plus, they’re far more successful than you.

Still, your ridiculous jealousy nearly goes rampant, overshadowing the insecurity within you, when you observe one of them gripping his bicep oddly comfortably with familiarity. The worst part is he doesn’t seem to be bothered as he continues to converse with an unfamiliar man in a fine tuxedo.

Too absorbed in the tempest of your emotions, you fail to realise the person next to you, who has been observing you with amusement. “I would hate for you to ruin your gorgeous dress, unless you intend to do so by gripping that delicate glass tightly till it breaks?” 

His thick yet attractive Australian accent captivates your attention so quickly that you momentarily forget why you’re practically seething. Your eyes lock with the unknown man’s that gleam with recognition and delight, and yet you don’t feel uncomfortable by his abrupt presence, just a tad wary. 

“I didn’t realise it.” You utter slowly as you find yourself checking him out without the intention to. You can’t help it, not when his face is an enchantment that evokes both jealousy and admiration within you, because if being both pretty and handsome were a person, it would definitely be him.

His face definitely captivates one’s interest at first glance. His facial features are strongly chiselled, and yet every line and shape is smoothly well-proportioned. He was definitely sculpted by divine hands, because damn, his handsome beauty is something that naturally etches into one’s memory, unforgettable. You also notice how his outfit seems to stand out from the other socialites, a blend of simplicity and subtle elegance.

When your eyes return to his face, he adorns a lopsided grin on his Cupid-bow lips, and it has your head filled with doubts whether or not he is indeed a businessman since he doesn’t seem like one. Honestly, he looks like the type to revel in a lavish lifestyle without worrying about a single thing. “Of course, you didn’t. You were too occupied shooting daggers with your eyes at my best friend.” 

You feel a sense of recognition upon his declaration, as Jay had spoken about his mysterious best friend a few times. “Jay’s your best friend?”

The grin on his lips feels so infectious that you fight off the urge to lift a smile of your own. “The only trustworthy best friend, even if he claims me to be a pain in his ass.” He chuckles breathily before proceeding to introduce himself. “I’m Sim Jaeyun, but you can call me Jake.”

This time, you crack a smile. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m—“

“I already know who you are.” His words elicit a genuine look of surprise from you.

“You do?” You ask in disbelief, feeling a little flattered that this fine gentleman recognises you.

Jake nods his head, tucking his hands into the pocket of his Prada jacket. “Sure did. I was the one who convinced him to choose you and that you’re the right one for him.” He divulges so casually, but his tone carries a careful tread as though he doesn’t intend for anyone to catch onto his words. “Not that he needed much convincing because my guy had literal heart eyes when he came across your profile.” 

“Oh.” So he knows that you’re his best friend’s sugar baby and not the fiancée, but you have a gut feeling that Jake poses no threat to you.

Jake observes the way you take another glance at his best friend, smirking as he recognises the jealousy flattening the smile on your lips. “I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.” He says in a drawl, drawing your attention back to him. “My best friend is practically head over heels for you.”

You scoff lightly as you place your half-empty glass on the standing table next to you. “I’m not worried. We’re only faking this whole fiancée thing since he insisted. Besides, I’m just his sugar baby. Nothing more.” You retort, and yet your voice holds a bitter edge that you can hear.

Jake makes a disapproving tut that has you narrowing your eyes at. “He’d be sad and disappointed to hear that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, unconvinced by his statement because it doesn’t change the fact that you are Jay’s sugar baby. “Why would he be?” Your genuine question earns him an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

“You have no idea, do you?” He asks in a peculiar whisper, his brown eyes examining the genuine confusion in your countenance with scrutiny. His lips curl into an all-knowing smile that intrigues you annoyingly. “Well, let’s just say that you are more than just a sugar baby to him.”

You swear your heart skips a beat, but then again, Jake might be spewing things since you know damn well that Jay only sees you as his sugar baby. All of his affections, etc., are typically how a sugar daddy treats his sugar baby, based on your presumption. You resort to silence as you decide to finish your champagne, slowly growing more comfortable that a fine man is standing next to you.

Jake takes your silence negatively and mentally berates himself for being unconvincing with his choice of words. He clears his throat to grab your attention. “Do you know that I went to Harvard too?” 

Just like that, you and Jake form a friendly connection as you get lost in his storytelling that involves his days with Jay, particularly back in college. You notice the similarity between Jay and Jake, how they seem to talk about each other in playful annoyance, but there is an unmistakable fondness, reminding you of your friendship with Sabrina. You are so immersed in the delightful conversation with Jake that you have totally forgotten about the jealousy that embittered your mood earlier until he decides to bring up a particular memory.

“I mean, really, you should’ve seen how nervous he was! I’ve never seen him being anything like that in all my years knowing him.” Jake chuckles. “He was freaking out on what to do next after you accepted his request. It’s quite pathetic, if you ask me.”

There is no way that you would tell him that you were just the same. “But I don’t get why he was nervous. He’s a CEO, and I’m…me.” You attempt to say it in a light-hearted manner, but the dejection in your strained smile makes his eyes soften.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you — Jay is genuinely head over heels for you, even before your first official meeting. He didn’t even care what status you hold. There was something about you that captivated him.” Jake says with an unwavering resolution, and it rekindles the hope within you. “I can’t really blame him, though. You’re a stunning lady. I wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of getting you to be my sugar baby too.”

You decide to ignore his ever-flattering remark. “Earlier, you mentioned something about me being more than just a sugar baby to him.” You tilt your body to an angle to face him better with your arms folded below your chest, curiosity glinting in your eyes. “What did you mean?”

Jake gives you a rare, soft smile. “I think it’s better that you ask him yourself.” 

“Easy for you to say. I can’t do that without shitting in my pants.” You tell him with an eye roll, not fazed by your choice of words to the fine man whom you’ve just met, but he doesn’t particularly seem bothered either.

A sigh leaves his lips. “But then you would never know, and I doubt that he’d tell you first. My guy is ridiculously shy when it comes to you.” He mumbles the last part that you can’t quite catch.

“I’m scared.” You confess truthfully, feeling oddly inclined to confide in Jake, probably because you feel comfortable with him. “I like him, Jake. I really like him, and I see him as more than just someone who provides for me financially. But I’m worried that he might not be into me like that.”

“God, you two are indeed the perfect pair.” Jake mutters under his breath as he rolls his eyes. He looks at you sternly dead in the eyes with no traces of mischief or falsehood in his, but his features soften quickly as he sees the sliver of vulnerability in your countenance. “Sweetheart, he talks about you to me all the time, and when he does, he speaks so highly of you. That shows how smitten he is. He truly adores you, and no woman has ever managed to earn his adoration throughout the years I’ve known him, so trust me when I say that he’s really into you like that.”

You open your mouth to speak, but a high-pitched laughter draws your attention back to the familiar crowd, only for the fire of jealousy to go ablaze tenfold within you when a highly sophisticated long brunette is practically feeling Jay up while hugging his arm like a pillow. 

“That woman always did want to get into Jay’s pants since forever.” Jake scoffs, his tone holding disdain. He takes a glance at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern at how upset you look. “But he always rejects her, so don’t worry.”

“He doesn’t look like he’s rejecting her now.” You mutter bitterly as you watch him speaking with an older businesswoman while not in the slightest bothered at the woman clinging onto his arm like a desperate lover. You had forgotten that a part of your research involved him being a womaniser back in his late 20s.

“I have to agree with you on that. No idea what he’s thinking right now.” Jake says with a clear disapproval, but the obvious effort of Jay pulling away his arm from her goes unnoticed by the two of you as you look away from them.

Just then, Sabrina’s idea pops into your head. You capture Jake’s attention with an expression that raises his eyebrow. “I want to make him jealous. It’s stupid, I know, but—“

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, gorgeous.” Jake cuts you off gleefully with a grin. 

You look over your shoulder, only for your heart to skip a beat when Jay meets your eyes before diverting your attention to Jake and startling him with a hand on his bicep. “Do you mind?” You ask apologetically. 

“Certainly not.” Jake seems mischievously delighted, swiftly wrapping one arm around your waist before guiding you to sway to the soft jazz. You watch as his eyes flicker to something, or rather someone, behind you. “He’s coming over, and he looks furious. You know what? Maybe it would be wise for me to release you—”

“Just play along. Pretend to keep talking to me.” You whisper to him, feeling a fiery determination in achieving your goal. Jake casts you a charming smile as he speaks about something in an attempt to make it seem like he’s flirting with you from a certain someone’s point of view.

Just as Jake’s remark elicits a genuine chuckle from you, your breath hitches in your throat at the sensation of a strong arm swiftly replacing Jake’s before you find yourself being pulled until your back hits a solid chest. “Here you are, doll. I see you have already met my best friend.” Jay says tightly, his voice carrying a dangerous tread that has you squirming lightly in his possessive grasp. “You two seem to get along pretty well.”

“Words have been circulating about your engagement to this stunning lady.” Jake says coolly, completely unaffected by Jay’s glaring ire. “Considering that you’ve been enthusiastically socialising, was it your doing?”

“Can’t help it. Gotta warn the men here to steer clear of my fiancée.” Jay tightens his grip around your waist, his tone lacking any amiability or warmth despite Jake being his best friend. “And that includes you.”

Jake gives him a sardonic smile. “Kind of ironic how everyone now knows that you’re engaged, and yet those ladies back there didn’t seem to treat you like you’re an engaged man.”

You hold back a smile and maybe a cheer too, feeling touched that Jake is on your side, but it instantly overshadows the way Jay presses you hard into him that has you feeling a distinct shape of something else. “The same way you’ve been flirting and touching my fiancée.” He snarks.

“Stop it, Jay. You’re being ridiculous.” You say annoyedly before forcing yourself to extricate from his strong grip. You look Jay in the eyes, hiding your surprise behind a glare because right now, he looks nothing like the soft-looking man whom you’ve been spending time with for a month. “Jake is a nice guy and a fine gentleman at that.”

“Yeah, Jay. You heard her.” Jake adds fuel to the fire, earning a withering glare from Jay while he remains grinning. “How could I ever ignore your gorgeous fiancée, whom you left alone to entertain the other snobby socialites? Besides, she gets my humour and laughs at my jokes, unlike you.”

“You’re a full package, Mr. Sim. Charming and funny. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Just like Jake, you continue to provoke Jay, oblivious to the danger you had roused as you grin cheekily at the Australian.

Jake shoots you a flirtatious wink. “You’re a flatterer, Ms. L/N.” 

“I hate to cut this short, but it would be generous of you to leave my fiancée now that I’m here to keep her company.” Jay grabs you by the waist and pins you to his side, causing your breath to hitch once more at the bodily contact. “In simple words, fuck off.”

Now you’re starting to get genuinely annoyed at his attitude towards his best friend. You look at him with a glare, ignoring how his sharp eyes actually evoke intimidation within you. “Can you stop being petty and rude? He’s your best friend!”

“Unfortunately, your fiancé’s right, sweetheart. But I did enjoy keeping you company.” Jake draws your attention when he grabs your hand tenderly before giving your knuckle a kiss, a gentlemanly gesture that has Jay fuming, but the Australian provokes him for another time as he casts you a coquettish grin. “You can text me anytime since you have my number now. See you next time, gorgeous.”

With that, Jake walks away leisurely as though he didn’t just aggravate the situation that you brought upon yourself, and it seems like Jay knows about your deliberate plan as his grip on you feels dangerously unyielding while you can feel his eyes penetrate into your side profile. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Jay whispers in your ear with a sensual note, his lips grazing along the shell of your earlobe. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, doll.”

“What are you trying to insinuate?” You ask brusquely, your prior emotions bubbling to the surface as they influence your every action and word. You attempt to wrest yourself from his ironclad grip, but he effortlessly overpowers your strength. “And let go of me. Go back to your group of socialists. You were obviously enjoying their company more than mine.”

Jay recognises the underlying jealousy in your tone, and the glaring anger in your eyes only seems to spur him further, because damn, you look so fucking hot right now. “You’re pissed.” He points out in a subtle awe, a smirk toying at the corner of his lips, and it seems anything but playful.

“No shit. You let those women touch you and even flirt with you, and you expect me not to lose my cool?” You snap, practically seething, putting more force before finally breaking free from his grip. The glaring anger in your eyes never leaves his dark ones, your lips curling into a sneer. “You’ve messed with the wrong woman, Mr. Park.”

Jay scoffs lowly, his lips curling into a smirk that borders on mean, and shit, you find it so hot. “Oh really? How hypocritical of you to tell me that as if you didn’t flirt with my best friend in front of me.” His voice is rough, ladening with something that unfurls the heat in your core dangerously. “Were you trying to make me jealous, doll?”

His eyes darken at the sensual movement of your lip being tucked between your teeth as you look away from him, and just like that, the last thread of restraint easily snaps within him. A resigned sigh leaves your lips as you intend to surrender. “Jay—”

Your word is barely a whisper when he pulls you by the waist while one hand cradles the back of your head, giving you no chance to utter a word as he kisses you squarely on the lips. “Because damn it, it’s working.” He speaks in between the kisses with vehemence, raw desire dripping from his gravelly deep voice, eliciting an involuntary whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

You are thankful that you have chosen a secluded corner, or you would have drowned from the embarrassment at your brazen display of neediness in public. Before you can eagerly reciprocate the kiss, Jay detaches his lips from your chasing ones, leaning his forehead against yours, his breath heaving from the excruciating constraint of his own desire. “Fuck, I need to get us out of here.” He whispers harshly.

“B-But the gala isn’t over.” Your heart stutters at the way you speak when he pulls you by the wrist, your eyes staring at his broad back while he guides you to the exit, and he even ignores the other socialites that are vying for his attention along the way, as though he only has one mission that renders you both flabbergasted and aroused.

“I don’t give a damn about this worthless gala. We shouldn’t have come here in the first place.” He finally speaks up after the taut silence that followed you from the ballroom all the way to the lobby, but his tone is unrecognisable, rendering you perturbed for a moment.

Yet, despite getting caught in the whirlwind of his emotions, Jay is ever-so perceptive of your instinctive response to his brusque austerity, how peculiarly attuned he is to your emotions. He clenches his jaw in anger because, for a moment, he hates himself for making you feel daunted by him. Without looking at you, he gently pulls you into the elevator as it opens.

You look at him with uncertainty as he presses the button where the basement parking is at. You bite down your bottom lip hard, getting highly flustered by this silence. “Jay—”

Jay takes you by surprise, swiftly pinning you against the wall, but there is an ambience of tenderness emanating from him that has your heart pounding as he leans his forehead against yours, a rare delicacy gleaming in his eye. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. I know I shouldn’t have left you all alone. I got too caught up in the propositions and strengthening networks with other entrepreneurs.” He explains hoarsely, one hand holding your waist while the other cradles your face tenderly. “I’m sorry I upset you. I should’ve pushed those women away.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You say thickly, your tone holding an edge of desire for the man who is gazing into your eyes with such longing, as though you are the only person that mattered. “You were rude to Jake too.”

“He deserves it because he touched and held my fiancée.” His voice is soft but palpable with a husk of desire that ignites the heat in your core. “If he wasn’t someone important in my life, I would’ve done a lot worse.”

“Fake fiancée.” You correct him, feeling breathless with each passing second while a newfound tension mounts in this enclosed space. You tilt your head to an angle where your lips are dangerously close to his. “I’m not your real lover, Jay, so why did it matter that Jake touched me?”

“It matters because you’re mine. My woman.” He speaks harshly, and yet you don’t feel the slightest hurt, only pure lust intensified by his low, guttural voice and the way his grip tightens on your waist. “He knew that, and yet he still went for you.”

“Bold of you to say that when you had women all over you, so consider us even, then.” You counter weakly, lacking resolve as his possessive proclamation intensifies the relentless heat in your core, and all you need is for him to close the damn distance between your lips.

His eyes darken with an inscrutable emotion amidst the palpable hunger. “Did my apology mean nothing to you?”

“Words mean nothing if you don’t prove it with your actions.” A startled gasp leaves your lips when he presses his very distinct bulge into your body. Holy shit. He’s big.

“Does this prove to you how apologetic I am? How this prove that you’re the only woman capable of turning me on?” He says huskily in your ear, teasingly pressing his borderline painful cock into your tummy again, and he swears he can hear you faintly moan under your breath. “Those women could never make me hard the way you always do.”

“Always?” You mutter breathlessly, daring yourself to tilt your head back as you meet his dark eyes.

“Always. You have no idea how much you drive me fucking insane every damn time.” He confesses, confirming your presumption that he was indeed turned on during those times but mastered the art of self-restraint. “I don’t think I can hold myself back any longer, doll.”

“Then don’t hold back anymore.” You whisper in a sensual lull, feeling the mounted tension threatening to come crashing down on you. “Kiss me like I’m your woman, as you claimed so.”

Your lips are already parted open when his lips descend like a molten desire he repressed for so long. His lips seek yours hungrily, overwhelming your every sense as he kisses you senselessly with his hands roaming around the curvature of your back while you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer even when his body is pressed into you.

The air is charged with something dangerously electrifying, affecting the heat in your core that prompts you to grind into his hardened bulge. As the slit of your dress offers easy access for you, you lift your leg and rub it sensually against his side thigh, only for him to seize your thigh to pin your upraised leg to his hip.

“I got you, doll.” Jay groans huskily against your parted lips that are throbbing from the intensity of his dominant kisses while he grinds his bulge into you, feeling the pleasurable friction as you reciprocate, your clothed clit getting sensitive with each assault from his grinding.

“I need more.” You whine needily in between kisses, feeling your underwear dampen with your arousal. He pulls away from you, only to trail wet kisses down your neck while you submissively arch into his touch. Your soft moans fill the enclosed space as he kisses and bites down on your flushed skin, eventually tainting your once-pristine skin with his mark. You clutch on his strong shoulders, lips quivering with an uncontrollable need. “Jay, please—”

Jay swiftly captures your lips with his, kissing you with an insatiable hunger, pulling you into the depths of his desire. “I’ll give you more later.” He grunts against your lips before thrusting his tongue into your hot cavern, licking every inch and meeting your tongue in a sensual dance while moans emerge from the back of your throat every so often. Your breaths mingling with pleasurable sighs escape your lips in between the messy and desperate kisses.

Just as the two of you get lost in this intoxication of your desires melding into one, the elevator chimes open, prompting you to break the heated yet messy lip-lock, the string of saliva that remains connected on the seams of both of your lips a testament to your co-equal hungers. You look at Jay with hooded eyelids while heavy pants leave your swollen lips.

Jay smirks attractively, his eyes darkening as he scans the pure neediness in your gorgeous countenance. He leans in to kiss you wetly on the lips, causing you to squeeze your thighs together at the unbearable arousal that no doubt soaks your undies completely. How embarrassing it is that you get easily wet just by his kisses.

“Where are we going?” You ask as he proceeds to drag you to his car, anticipation brimming in your veins.

“To my place, and…” He pauses as he retrieves a familiar device in his pocket to unlock his vehicle.

“And?” You probe, watching as he opens the passenger door for you like a gentleman, as he always does.

Your heart nearly lurches in your chest when his dark eyes fixate on you before he leans his face closer to yours, an irresistible smirk etching on his handsome face. “You’re about to find out that I’m not always the gentleman you thought I was, doll.”

After the smouldering tension that accompanied the silent car ride to his place — a luxurious mansion that’s highly worth millions due to how lavishly monumental the structure is — you would have thought that things would escalate to an erotic union you had been aching for, especially after the frenzied make-out session that happened again as soon as he dragged you past the threshold of the mansion.

Wrong. The insatiable man who had practically devoured your lips and left a hickey or two on your neck earlier left you high and dry after the relentless interruption of his ringing phone, and it has been five long minutes since he left you dripping wet from the dry humping while being pinned against his bedroom door.

“I recall you were insistent about me getting married for years, so shouldn’t you be glad that I’m now engaged to my future wife?”

His words are punctuated with austere exasperation that distracts you from examining the decor in his bedroom as you now stare at the man in the vanity mirror, whose collected demeanour seems dour with each passing second as he continues to speak with his mother on the phone.

It genuinely unnerves you how the news of Jay Park’s engagement has reached his own mother in a span of a few hours since the two of you left the gala, and considering his predominant reputation in the industry, no doubt it is currently being disseminated to every media outlet. You just hope that this will do nothing to jeopardise what you have with him, or even your life as an ordinary woman.

“Nothing you said could ever induce me to break my engagement with the love of my life.” He speaks with fierce conviction, rendering you more than flattered by his adamant despite this engagement being simply a pretence. “You know, Mother, all of this fussing and reprimanding is ruining the perfect night for my fiancée and me.”

Your cheeks flush warmly when his eyes briefly meet yours in the mirror. You quickly feign being occupied with unclasping your necklace and your earrings before placing them on the vanity table since they were feeling a tad weighty, for some reason. But your eyes betray you when they gravitate to him again, and this time, his dark eyes are fixated on you with a familiar dark intensity.

“It doesn’t matter what her status and background are. The important thing is that she’s my happiness, not that it mattered to you in the first place.” He continues to speak to his phone without breaking eye contact while advancing towards you from behind, like a stealthy predator preying on its food. “You’re wasting my time when I should have been busy with my exquisite fiancée. Oh, truly, she’s impeccable, perfect for my taste buds.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, appalled at his audacious remark to his own mother, and you swear you can hear her chastising on the line, but Jay is unrelenting as he steps closer and closer until he towers over your figure from behind. Your core throbs in response to his hand feeling up the curvature of your waist.

The smirk on his lips never leaves as he holds your gaze with his dark, sultry eyes, even when he leans down to place a sensual kiss on your exposed shoulder. “Speaking of taste buds, I’m feeling quite famished, so you don’t mind if we cut our conversation short, no?”

You find the underlying mockery in his tone incredibly hot for some reason, or maybe it has to do with your neediness that is dripping again from the way you lean into his irresistible touch, suppressing a whine in your throat as his hand goes cupping your throbbing mound.

“I have to attend to my food. Can’t let your only son die from starvation.” Jay smirks, cruel mockery dripping from his tone while he continues to cup and squeeze your mount, rendering you awfully desperate and needy as you grind your ass cheeks against his hardened bulge.

“Jay—” Your word is barely a whisper when an accidental whimper escapes you instead, earning you a piercing stare from him in the mirror while his large hand cups your mound harder, as though he is displeased by you, but his eyes swirl with dark amusement and palpable hunger.

You clamp your quivering lips shut, suppressing every noise in the back of your throat as you use every strength you can muster to endure his relentless seduction, his eyes never leaving your glossy ones and his hand being attached to your aching core while he steadily grinds his bulge into your ass. 

Jay’s a refined menace, you think. It genuinely astounds you how his demeanour remains unyieldingly impassive, betraying none of the tempest within him, but the tone in his voice gets gradually unsparing, which carries an underlying warning, and it does nothing to abate the unbearable heat within you as you find every bit of this hot.

“There will be no further discussion after this call. I’m marrying my fiancée, and that’s final. If you wish to attend our wedding day, it would be wise for you to remain on my good side.” His voice is a low rumble next to your ear, sending you a pleasurable shiver down your spine. “Send my regards to Father.”

As soon as Jay ends the call and places it on the vanity table, a needy whimper leaves your lips, arching into his sinful touch. “M-Marrying your fiancée? What do you mean?” You stutter, your chest heaving up and down with your breathing uneven. “You can’t be serious.”

“What if I say I am?” His voice is a husky whisper, carrying the weight of his hunger. Anticipation thrums in your veins as he proceeds to unzip the back of your dress, his movement deliberate and tantalising. “Will you push me away, doll?”

“But we can’t—” You are rendered speechless when he roughly tugs down your dress as it falls to the floor, exposing half of your nudity in his hungry eyes. You swear you can feel his erection growing when his gaze lingers on your purple lace bra.

“And why can’t we?” The warmth of his palm sends another shiver through your body as he rubs the curvature of your bare ass in a deliberate motion of up-and-down. 

You press your palms down on the solid surface in front of you for support, feeling weakened as the desire burning within you is consuming the edges of your sanity, your back arching at the relentless burn of his touch on your body. “B-Because I’m just your sugar baby.” You manage to utter despite getting breathless.

Something inside of him snaps as soon as those words leave your lips, and before you know it, Jay deftly turns you around and lifts you up by the waist while your head spins at the escalation. Your body instantly shivers at the sensation of a cool surface beneath you before finding yourself seated on his vanity table. 

His figure remains towering over you, imposing and reeking of sensual dominance that has you preening for submission, but your eyes fall to his lips instead. He slots himself in between your legs before you can close them. You feel the weight of his gaze on your face while you remain meekly avoidant.

Jay grabs you by the chin, his grip firmly assertive as he forces you to make eye contact. “Look at me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just your sugar daddy.” His voice is nowhere near harsh or rough, but firm enough to mean business, and yet there is an underlying plea. “Tell me, doll.”

Your heart beats in a familiar rhythm on the day when the profound clarity dawned on you at the realisation of your true feelings for your sugar daddy, and yet your tongue sits heavily in your mouth because you know that you don’t deserve to harbour romantic feelings for someone like him, someone so perfect who doesn’t deserve the broken you who carries a lot of emotional baggage since forever.

Instead of telling him what he wants to hear, you take him by surprise, swiftly pulling him by the nape and slamming your lips into his. You shove down the bitter truth of your feelings and allow the pure lust to reign in dominance in the way you kiss him feverishly.

The irresistible allure of your lips compels him to reciprocate with equal eagerness, shivers rippling through him as you begin to get handsy with unbuttoning his blouse that feels as demanding as your kiss. “Doll.” He murmurs against your lips, his hands latching around your wrists to stop you just after you manage to free the last button of his blouse. 

“I need you so badly.” You protest with a needy whine, knowing that he still wants to hear you say those words, but you are being driven by your pure need for him to touch where you ache terribly the most. 

“But you haven’t told me—“ His words fall short when you grab his hand, making his head spin with dangerous thoughts as he feels the direct warmth of your pussy despite your undies being dampened by your arousal.

“I’m so wet.” You purr, dripping with seduction that is impossible for him to delay his own need in pleasuring you, and it doesn’t help with the way you spread your legs further while guiding his fingers to move in an up-and-down motion on your clothed clit that he can feel distinctly thanks to your wetness. “Need you to touch me here, daddy.”

“Fuck.” He curses harshly under his breath, his cock twitching delightfully at the label that feels illicit, and yet, he keens to hear from your sinful tongue again. “Call me that again.” He demands, allowing you to take control in the way you continue to use his fingers to rub your clothed clit while you rock your hips back and forth.

“Daddy.” You keen in a sensual slur, your sultry gaze never leaving his that seems to darken with something so primal, and yet his fingertips tracing on your skin move with practiced patience before sliding under the material of your undies. You nearly moan out, hips slightly stuttering from the sensitivity when the padding of his fingers makes direct contact with your clit.

Jay stifles a groan, his cock twitching again beneath the slacks at the sensation of your swollen clit, because damn, you’re practically soaked all over. “Even your clit is wet, doll. How needy are you?” Cruel amusement curls on the corner of his lips as he rubs your clit deliberately slow but effective enough to rouse the bundle of aching nerves.

Jay spreads the slick arousal on your clit with his finger, rubbing in a tantalising yet maddening circle, exasperating you. “Don’t tease.” You whine, your pretty eyes gloss with such neediness that send his head into a frenzy.

“I’ll do whatever I want to do to you.” His tone borders on mean, as does his demeanour, with no traces of the usual gentleness, and your eyes prick with tears at the loss of his fingers from your now-throbbing clit.

You open your mouth to speak, but he swiftly captures your lips in a searing kiss, all inhibitions thrown out of the window. Your hands move in urgency as they roam around the plane of his abdominal muscles, sending pleasurable shivers through him. He is completely insatiable, deepening the kiss like he wants to imprint his soul on yours.

Jay pulls you by the hips until your wet core presses into his erection, eliciting a breathy moan from you that he greedily swallows. You obediently part your lips open for his tongue to lick every inch while you slowly gain momentum in grinding your weeping, clothed pussy into his girthy erection; each friction on your clit feels more pleasurable than the previous.

“Jay.” You moan breathily as soon as he pulls away from your lips, only for him to trace an ardent path down to your neck with his lips that amplifies your senses. You arch into his touch that feels possessive; each grip and squeeze on your curves feels like a reminder that you’re his.

“You’re mine, doll.” He rasps against your skin, his low rumble sending vibrations through your neck. He kisses the previous hickey on your neck wetly before hovering his lips over yours and kissing you hard. “Mine to kiss, mine to fuck, and mine to love.” His gravelly timbre shocks you to the core as he growls out in between the kisses.

Without breaking the heated lip-lock, Jay lifts you from the vanity table with ease while your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He carries you over to his king-sized bed, his fingers squeezing your plump ass intermittently. He groans lowly into your mouth at the pleasurable sensation of your fingers tugging his now-dishevelled hair.

“Fuck me.” Your demand sounds like a pathetic plea that brings a smirk to his lips before he bites down on the plush of your lower lip, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

“Where are your manners, doll?” He grunts against your lips, taking you by surprise next with a harsh smack in the ass, causing your body to jolt in his hold.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You plead softly, feeling both intimidated and highly aroused by the intoxicating dominance he exudes.

In the haze of your lust for him, you can barely register the impact of being thrown on his bed before recovering as you turn around, only for your pussy to throb at the sight of him towering over you by the bed as he lazily peels off his blouse with his dark eyes penetrating into yours before you feel a magnetic sensation pulling your gaze down.

The desire in your eyes is palpable as you feast on his fine glory in keen appreciation. You already know that underneath every one of his luxurious apparel conceals his broad physique, but as he presents half of his nudity to you now, you conclude that he must have hit the gym often in his spare time despite being a busy businessman. His defined muscles are a testament to his diligent work at the gym, and you desire to feel them under your touch again.

“My eyes are up here, doll.” Amusement laces his authoritative tone, and yet he receives no response from you, your hungry eyes roaming on his glory elevates his pride as his hard work at the gym has evidently paid off.

You bite down your lower lip, your eyes lingering on the delicious sight of his V-line dipping behind the slacks. You want, no wait, you need to feel every inch of him. But before you can make a move, Jay pulls you closer to him by the legs as his stature gradually lowers, making your breath hitch in anticipation.

“Jay!” Your shocked exclamation comes immediately as soon as he tears the fabric of your undies roughly, his unrivalled strength rendering it flimsy. “That was my favourite!” You complain as you watch him toss aside torn fabric.

“It was getting in the way.” He grumbles in protest as he positions himself at the same eye level as your pussy. “I’ll buy you a few pairs.” He promises, but you are distracted by the bashful wave hitting you as his eyes are fixated on your perfectly waxed mount.

You attempt to close your legs, but he is swift enough to reign control over your flexibility as he spreads your legs apart with his palms firmly pressing into your inner thighs, presenting your bare pussy lewdly in his ravenous eyes.

“Fuck. Your pretty pussy really is soaking wet, doll.” His husky voice holds a palpable hunger, and his eyes are fixated on your pussy as he uses his fingers to spread the lips for a vivid view of your glistening arousal dripping. 

“Jay.” You gasp softly at the sensation of his warm lips pressing into your wet clit, hips nearly bucking up to gain some form of friction, but he pulls away. His cock feels borderline painful now, but he desires to prioritise your needs, which is pure torture for someone who hasn’t had pussy for four years.

Your leg twitches slightly from the sensitivity when he presses his thumb into your clit before stroking it lazily in mini circles. “I’ve been dying to get a taste of you.” He confesses, his eyes never leaving your preening pussy while he continues to tease your clit, rousing your bundle of nerves.

“You have?” You utter breathlessly, chest heaving up and down as you feel the room temperature rising from the manifestation of your desires. You fist the bedding when he places another kiss on your clit, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Mmhmm.” He hums while the vibrations send pleasurable shockwaves to your bundle of nerves. “Dreamed of tasting your gorgeous pussy every night.” His confession is accompanied by a hard lick on your clit, eliciting a surprised moan from you.

Jay groans huskily at the taste of your arousal on his tongue, and he knows that one taste is never enough. Without wasting a second, his tongue licks a broad stripe along your pussy lips that he journeys upward until your clit and gives it an obnoxious lick before repeating the actions, eventually sending your head in an intoxicating frenzy.

You quiver underneath his relentless tongue as he continues to stimulate your clit and his saliva that lathers your pussy lips while the sound of your pretty moans spurs him further. He sucks your clit with doubling efforts, tearing a moan from your lips before he dives into your cunt, his tongue now exploring your weeping hole. You roll your eyes from the pleasure, feeling his warm tongue so distinctly along the walls that it sends your head delirious.

“Pussy tastes so fucking good. I’m never letting go of you after this.” He growls into your cunt, adding more pleasure to the shockwaves rolling through your body. He rears back, eliciting a needy whimper from you as he leers at your pussy. “Can’t believe how drenched she already is even before cumming. So fucking needy for me.”

Jay delves into your cunt once more, but with stringent purpose while the chiselled bridge of his nose bumps your clit with the way he bops his head. You arch your back as you roll your hips into his skilled tongue, moans spilling from your lips as he continues to devour you with an insatiable hunger. You swear you can hear him moaning amidst the obscene sound of your sopping cunt and your moans filling his spacious bedroom.

Without letting up, Jay rubs your neglected yet swollen clit, amplifying your pleasure at the dual sensation of his tongue and his thumb while your moans pitch higher as you spread your legs even further with your arched back deepening, displaying such wanton neediness that goes straight to his cock. He swears he can come undone just by eating your pussy alone.

“I’m close!” You announce in a high-pitched whine, hips stuttering against his relentless thumb that is rubbing your clit hard with fervour while his tongue continues to fuck your hole. Before you know it, your orgasm comes in uncontrollable waves as you come undone violently on his tongue.

Instead of pulling away, Jay remains attached to your cunt, his tongue lapping up your slick release avidly while you marvel at the sight of your sugar daddy. You have been eaten out before, only because you requested it, but nothing like this, and you didn’t even have to ask him to do so. 

Sensing your gaze on his face, he looks up and meets your eyes as he finally comes to a stop, but not before placing a wet kiss on your clit that throbs faintly in response. “I could eat your pussy for hours, doll.”

“I doubt that.” You mutter, your voice slightly strained as you watch him rise. Your cheeks flush warmly as you notice that his nose, lips, and chin are glistening with your arousal under the dim yet sensual glow across the room.

With the way he runs his fingers through his dishevelled hair and his abdominal muscles present to you, the smirk on his lips and his dark eyes leering down at you, you think you could come undone again by this sight alone, because damn it, your sugar daddy is sinfully attractive. You don’t think you could ever find another man as attractive as him. 

“That was a promise, by the way.” He says, lowering himself again, and this time, he slides two fingers into your wet cunt, your slick arousal serving as a lubricant. You gasp, mouth agape and eyes rolling to the back, but it isn’t the stretch of your walls that brings out another high-pitched whine from you; it’s the way his thumb rubs your sensitive clit at a menacing pace.

“No! I’m still sensitive!” You protest weakly, writing underneath him, but the rolling movement of your hips only seems to amplify your sensitivity, involuntarily pressing your clit into his relentless thumb and allowing his fingers to delve deeper with each roll of your hips.

“No? Then why is she crying for my fingers?” He chuckles darkly, his demeanour absent of the usual gentleness or kindness. Having enough of you trying to escape, he deftly grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head, his strength unrivalled. “Don’t be ungrateful, doll. Daddy is only giving your needy pussy what she needs. Look. She’s dripping all over my fingers again.”

You had no idea that Jay being condescending and mean could be so fucking hot when all of your wet fantasies consisted of him being a complete vanilla. Maybe he is, if you go further with him, but right now, the way he’s fucking you with his fingers feels just as unforgiving as his dark eyes penetrating into your teary ones.

“I can’t!” You protest again with an unwept sob, attempting to close your legs, but your defiance earns you a stern slap on your pussy that only seems to feel pleasurable while the wet squelch from the impact echoes off the walls. His dark eyes hold a silent command to open your legs, and you do so as you stifle a whimper when he plunges two fingers back into your hole.

“Yeah, you can. How else are you going to take my cock if you’re still so fucking tight?” He hisses under his breath at the resistance in your walls enveloping his fingers, but that doesn’t slow him down from fucking you at a steady pace. “You’ll take what I give you like the good fucking doll you are for daddy.” 

Though you remain obstinately tight, Jay knows that you are not a virgin, and the thought of another man's cock in your sweet pussy fuels his jealousy, impelling him to increase momentum that sends your head delirious once more. “Fuck! Jay!” You cry out, eliciting a smirk from him as he revels in the way you are falling apart only from his fingers alone.

“Come on, doll. Don’t disappoint daddy now.” He admonishes softly, his tone an underlying mockery, but you submit keenly to him. He leans down, bumping his nose affectionately against yours, humming. “Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

“I do.” You whimper, your kissable lips jutting into a small pout while your eyes are glossy with unshed tears. “Always want to be daddy’s good girl.” You keen, your voice breathless as each unyielding thrust from his skilled fingers alone knocks the air from you.

Jay places a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips, displaying a faux tenderness that has your pussy pulsating around him. “Then give me another one. I know you still have it in you.” He commands sternly.

A series of moans and whines emits from you as you accept this agonising pleasure that renders you keening for more. Your hips move in tandem with his ruthless fingers with your curve in a perfect arch that hypnotises him. With his ruthless fingers working on both your hole and your clit, the knot forming in your tummy threatens to snap anytime. His fingers now curl in you, hitting that delicious spot with precision that triggers something powerful this time.

With the last of your moans echoing off the walls, the knot in your tummy imploded, followed by your release gushing out in clear fluids from your battered cunt, wetting the bedding beneath you, while your lips part open with a silent moan and your hips stuttering.

“Atta doll.” Jay grins, his eyes watching your cunt squirting for a little longer while his fingers never relent from pumping, emitting obscene squelches. Seeing as your legs quiver from the aftermath, he withdraws his fingers from you and rubs the outer side of your leg soothingly. “Did so good for me.”

Your heart flutters at his words, but you feel completely breathless, your chest heaving up and down as you slowly recover from the intensity of your orgasm. Holy shit. You have never squirted before throughout your past experiences.

Jay releases your wrists as he leans down to give a kiss below your belly button. You watch him silently as he continues with his kisses along your body, your heart fluttering again at how every kiss feels reverent, until you decide to earn his attention with a tug on the wrist.

“Kiss.” You plead softly as you latch your hands on his neck to pull him to your face. Maybe it’s the way he kisses, or the texture of his lips, but you have grown so addicted to his kisses that you fantasise of kissing him every day.

“So needy for my kisses too.” He chuckles lightly with a reserved adoration for you before he dips his head down and kisses you deeply on the lips. He lets you take control over the kiss, smirking at the obvious hunger with the way your lips move against his and your fingers haphazardly running through his hair.

You break the lip-lock first, intending to return the pleasure as you work on his pants with your hands, but he stops you with a gentle grab on the wrist. “What about you?” You ask with genuine confusion as you sit up because guys would usually want the favour back.

Jay shakes his head. “It’s alright, doll. Some other time instead.” He says softly despite his tone being definitively firm. As much as he would love to feel your mouth taking his cock, he can’t waste any second as he desires to be buried in your cunt.

“But—” You are silenced by his lips as he kisses you hard while his hands work on peeling the last of his garments.

“Shh.” He shushes you when you part open your lips into the kiss. He pulls away, his once-softened eyes now darkening with a familiar hunger that rouses excitement within you. “Get on all fours for me now.”

You obey his command, turning around with your hands and knees pressing into the bedding as you wait for him with nervous anticipation, because from the look of his erection beneath the slacks alone earlier, you are certain that he may be bigger than your last fling.

You feel him tapping your hip, a signal for you to crawl forward as you feel the bedding dip from behind you. You decide to get comfortable as you lower your upper body, which causes your back to arch sensually while you spread your legs a little further until he has the erotic view of your holes, his eyes darkening with appreciation.

Now bare of any garment, Jay grabs the base of his cock and brings it closer to your pussy, but instead of going straight for your hole, he teases you with repeated taps of the bulbous head on the wet folds, eliciting whines from you while sparks of sensitivity shoot through him from the mere contact of his slit with your pussy lips.

“I know, I know. Needy for daddy’s cock, aren’t ya?” He coos, familiar mockery lacing his tone that borders on cruel. He aims the tip at your slightly gaping hole and inserts it agonisingly slowly, but he doesn’t go all the way. Instead, he thrusts only the bulbous head into your stretched hole experimentally. “But are you sure you can handle it?”

Your whines are full of impatience and frustration as he prolongs his teasing. “I can—“ 

The air is knocked out of your lungs with one swift shove of his cock into you without warning, your lips agape while your eyes prick with tears at the painful stretch of your walls trying to accommodate to his sheer girth. You have underestimated his size, because damn, he is massive to the point where you feel instantly full, and raw.

“Damn, baby. You're still so tight. Did I not prep you enough?” He groans huskily, his hand seeking your waist for leverage. He does an experimental thrust before he stills his hips and allows you to adjust. He drags his finger along the perfect arch of your back, sending shivers through your spine. “But my doll can take my cock, yeah?”

A moan leaves your lips as soon as he delivers a single thrust, his movement measured and controlled, as though he is mastering self-restraint for your sake as you still struggle to adjust, but devoid of prior pain, only a tad uncomfortable.

“You’re so big.” You breathe out, moaning softly at the delicious sensation of his girth dragging along your walls slowly as he does a pull-and-push motion repeatedly, allowing you to feel the ridges and veins protruding from his cock.

Jay smirks at your remark, feeling a sense of pride. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll make sure to train your pussy to take my cock with ease, but for now,” He grunts as he delivers hard thrusts that have your body shaking from the impact, his balls hitting your ass in the process. “Let daddy use your pussy however he wants.”

You become pliant immediately, falling dumb the instant he proceeds to fuck you with wild abandon, each thrust unforgiving and each stroke hitting deeper than the previous while more moans spill from your lips. The pain is replaced by pleasure as his cock stretches your walls deliciously, and you swear you can feel your lower abdomen bulging with each thrust.

His hands are attached to your waist in a way that makes you feel like you’re his fleshlight, and that turns you on even more, prompting you to spread your legs, which makes your ass stick out while he can’t resist smacking the supple of your ass. His breath goes ragged with low moans and grunts occasionally escaping him as he relishes the wonderful sensation of your cunt being battered by his cock.

The way Jay is fucking you feels borderline animalistic in such a short span of time, but something tugs within you, as though it is telling you that this is not just your sugar daddy fucking you simply because he desires you — this is a man who has been deprived of satiating his raw, sexual needs for years.

“Harder, daddy.” You manage to utter a moan quickly, eliciting a scoff from him before you find yourself losing strength to hold your upper body at the forceful impact of his thrusts, your face and chest pressing down into the bedding, but your ass remains sticking high.

“You want it harder? Like this?” He growls under his breath, slamming his hips into yours hard while each thrust of his cock reaches your cervix, rendering you nearly cross-eyed from the overwhelming pleasure. His dark eyes feast on your body, being completely pliant under him, before watching the way his cock, now lathered by your slick arousal, disappears and reappears lewdly from your cunt, the sight so hypnotic that it spurs him further.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the persistent fullness of his girth from the way he delivers shallow thrusts while your body shakes and often lurches forward from the hard impact. “S-Slow down—” 

“Take what daddy is giving you like the good slut you are for me.” He cuts you off with another growl, his voice ladening with primal hunger. He groans as soon as your cunt clenches like crazy around him. “Oh? You like being called my slut?” 

Your cunt clenches around his cock again, sending his head into a frenzy. “Your cockslut, daddy.” You moan out keenly, loving the idea of your sugar daddy being derogatory to you.

“My cockslut will do anything just to get daddy to fuck her like this, yeah?” He sneers, his hand landing a harsh smack on your ass while you shriek at the impact. His eyes darken as he recalls the repulsive sight of another man’s hands on your delicate skin earlier, fuelling a thundering emotion that goes beyond jealousy. “That’s why you had to piss me off by flirting with my best friend.”

“Nngh! Daddy!” Your fingers desperately seek purchase in front of you, needing to ground yourself from his relentless thrusts as he fucks you with a brutal intensity, eliciting screams and moans that border on sobs, tears escaping your eyes, and yet you love every second of this.

Without letting up his thrusts, Jay leans forward and braces his arms next to your head into a plank-like position, but he is careful enough not to crush you with his weight. “Got me fucking riled up when he held you like you’re his.” He snarls next to your ear, his gravelly timbre ladening with an unmistakable possessiveness that resonates deeply to your core. “You’re fucking mine, doll.”

You moan out in response, unable to formulate your words as his shallow thrusts only seem to deprive you of coherency while the new position allows you to feel his cock deeper than the previous. You can feel his abdominal muscles subtly flexing against your skin as he presses his body into yours. His warmth and natural scent melding with yours create a new wave of intoxication that you desire to bask in.

But Jay isn’t satisfied with your lack of response. His fingers encircle your throat, applying the perfect pressure to your pulse that emphasises his dominance as he earns your attention. “Say it.” He grunts into your ear, his hot yet ragged breath fanning the shell of your earlobe. “Say that you’re mine.”

“Y-Yours!” You manage to utter in between staggering breaths, your cunt clenching around him when he tightens his fingers around your throat, a silent command that you immediately grasp. “I’m always yours, daddy!”

“That’s fucking right.” He bottoms out hard with his body slamming you down, causing your clit to gain friction as it often makes contact with the bedding. He fucks you like he intends to ruin you. “All mine. Never forget that.”

His fingers now loosen but remain attached around your neck, allowing you to turn sideways to meet his eyes. “Jay.” You moan softly with half-lidded eyes as you look at his parted lips. “Kiss me, please.”

Jay silently complies, angling his head for his lips to meet yours in a perfect fit with his hand cupping your jaw while your hand seeks to grab his dishevelled hair loosely. You moan into the kiss when his tip hits the spot while he forces his tongue into your panting mouth, exchanging lewd yet lazy kisses with tongues dancing in a twisted tango.

Even when your lungs burn, you refuse to detach yourself from his lips, and so you continue to kiss him while he every so often devours every inch of your hot cavern, sucking and biting your plump lips that become swollen. Each time he deepens the kiss, it feels as though the connection you have with him deepens too, the same way his cock lodges deeper into your cunt.

“Can feel you clenching around my cock, doll.” He rasps against your wet, swollen lips before slowly pulling away as he feels your cunt clenching rapidly, a telltale sign of your imminent release. He decides to amplify your pleasure as he sneaks his hand underneath your body to find your clit before rubbing it hard. “You’re close, yeah?”

You are teetering on the precipice, knowing that it is only a matter of time as his cock relentlessly bullies your battered insides while his thumb on your clit ignites an overwhelming sensitivity. “Oh my god!” You sob out, your body writhing and convulsing under him as the band in your tummy threatens to snap.

“Come for me, my slutty doll.” He lets out a guttural growl, and on his command, you tumble over the edge of ecstasy with your eyes rolling to the back while a broken moan leaves you. But he doesn’t stop, even when your essence is bathing his cock.

You hear his breathing frenziedly ragged while his thrusts begin to fall in an inconsistent momentum, alerting you of his incoming arrival. “I-In me—“ You utter weakly, your hand latching on his muscular bicep. “Come in me, please.”

“Are you sure?” He asks in a strained grunt, unable to prolong his orgasm that teeters on the same precipice as yours.

You hum needily. “Want daddy’s cum to fill my pussy so bad.” You whine, receiving a chaste kiss from him on the cheek.

“I’ll give you my cum, alright. Daddy will fill you with his cum all night, till your sweet pussy can’t take it.” His promise has your cunt squeezing him keenly, eliciting another cuss from him before he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. With one last earth-shattering thrust, he matches the crescendo of your release, his hips smacking into you and going completely still as he fills you to the brim.

As the last of ecstasy in the air wanes, Jay releases your shoulder that now bears his teeth mark before giving it a kiss. Though your walls remain clinging around him, he unsheathes his cock from you, drawing whines from you as his girth drags along your battered walls tantalisingly slowly until you feel nothing except the union of your fluids.

Jay stifles a lustful groan, his cock twitching in demand for another round at the hypnotic visual of your hole instinctively pushing out white fluids, but he needs to see your face while he holds you. “Come here, doll.” 

Despite your aching limbs, you force yourself to turn around just in time to see him hovering over you before he seals you in a breathtaking kiss that has you moaning softly into his mouth, his tongue tenderly caressing yours. With your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he carries you effortlessly and settles himself with you seated on his lap while he leans against the headboard with his legs sprawled out.

Sensing you need air, Jay breaks the lip-lock, his eyes shifting to your gorgeous chest, darkening with appreciation. “I knew this purple lace bra would look gorgeous on you.” He says, leaning down to map his kisses across your chest while you feel his fingers caressing your back. “But your tits look better without them.”

Jay takes you by surprise when he expertly unclips your bra with one hand. “You’re skilled.” You compliment him as you rest your hands on his shoulders, but your tone holds a bitterness of something that has him smirking while he helps you in removing your bra. “Had experiences?” Your question is laced with sarcasm. 

Jay rears his head back to get a better look at your pouty countenance that you try hard to conceal with impassivity, but he can see through you. “Is that jealousy I sense?” His question is absent of genuine curiosity, more of a taunt.

You muster the sweetest smile you can, albeit it feels tight on your face muscles. “Hardly. Besides, I’ve had my fair share of flings.” You confess nonchalantly, smirking lightly as you see his eyes darkening familiarly.

But your confidence falters when he squeezes your ass tight while the other goes cupping your tit. “Your tight pussy could’ve fooled me.” He says calmly, using his thumb to rub your nipple that slowly hardens.

You stifle a moan as you feel sensitivity shooting through your body with each nipple rub. “You’re not jealous?” You ask breathlessly, your back arching into his touch as he cups both tits with his palms. 

A smirk touches his lips, his eyes glinting darkly with confidence. “Hardly. Besides, my cock will be the last ever to be buried in your sweet pussy.” 

You chuckle breathily while you have him briefly mesmerised by the irresistible smile on your lips. “Confident now, are we?” 

“It’s not confident, doll.” He retorts in an attractive drawl, and his smirk widens as he manages to draw out a soft moan from you with the way his fingers manipulate your tits. “Because I know that your pussy will only be satisfied with my cock alone after tonight. You’ll be begging for more.”

“Don’t get too cocky now.” You mutter as you roll your hips into him, his cock gaining its vitality with each contact of your tummy. You can’t resist grabbing the base of his cock, earning a lustful groan from him as he tilts his head back. “Who knows I may change my mind?”

“And yet, you’re desperate for my cock again.” He takes you by surprise when his mouth quickly connects to your nipple, sucking and licking it deliberately slowly despite his hunger roaring at him to devour your tits that had been in his wet dreams.

“S-Shut up.” You stutter just as the way your hips do, your pelvis pressing into his while you silently marvel at how fast his cock has gone rock solid. You take another glance at his cock that has your pussy preening, and he is the biggest you have ever taken. 

Jay releases your nipple with a wet ‘pop’ before making a disapproving tut under his breath. “Where did your manners go?” He says roughly at the same time he slaps your tit, causing you to jolt from the impact.

The flare of defiance in your eye dwindles as he slaps your tits again. “I’m sorry.” You whimper, and yet you push your tits out keenly for him to abuse your tits as they jiggle with each slap, enjoying the pain that comes with pleasure.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. Ride me.” He commands sternly as he gives your ass a hard squeeze. “Show me how desperate you are for my cock.”

You do so without delay, wanting to please your sugar daddy. You lift yourself up, one hand on his shoulder while the other grabs the base of his cock as you attempt to align it to your excited cunt. With a shaky breath, you slowly sink on him but with obvious difficulty as your walls struggle to accommodate his sheer girth.

“Is my cock too big for you? Look how you’re struggling to take me again.” He smiles smugly as he watches you evidently struggling, taking your time while you grit your teeth in annoyance at his mockery. “Need some help, doll?”

“I can do it. I just need—“ Your breath hitches as soon as the entirety of his girth manages to snuggle in your cunt while the intrusion causes the union of your cum with his trickling down profusely, smearing his thighs, but he doesn’t seem bothered.

“Damn. I’m never going to get tired of your sweet pussy.” His husky voice is raw with lust. He squeezes your tits for good measure before leaning against the headboard leisurely. “Now ride me.”

With a whimper, you do as he tells you, rocking your hips back and forth despite your walls stretching painfully from his girth. Your hands seek for purchase on his shoulders, stabilising yourself as your head spins at the sheer fullness that has you clenching around him, and yet he seems composed, watching you intently with dark amusement. 

The pain eventually subsides, leaving only pleasure that slowly builds up within you with the help of your clit grazing against his abs, creating a delicious friction while he occasionally kneads your tits before alternating between sucking and licking your nipples, but it isn’t enough for you to attain the heights of pleasure you desperately seek. You huff and puff, to which he finds quite adorable despite the sensual movement of your irresistible body, as you find yourself riding him harder and faster deliberately, hoping that he would get the damn hint.

But nothing changes except the eventual exertion seeping into your muscles from your relentless effort alone, prompting you to falter in your momentum. Seeing the tears gathering in your lash line, he smirks cruelly, knowing exactly what. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired, and you’re making me do all the work!” You complain, your kissable lips quivering and jutting into a pout that has him caving into your need.

“It’s what you deserved after flirting with my best friend.” He reminds you sternly, his hands finding placement on your waist as he helps you to rock back and forth on his swelling cock, eventually switching to a different rhythm that has you bouncing on his cock instead.

“You’re still mad about it?” You moan out as you begin to feel the tension coiling in your tummy with each thrust of his cock that buries to the hilt each time he pulls you down with a wet splat mingling with your bated breaths. “I-I thought we were past that.”

“Oh, we were never past that, not until you come to understand that you’re mine.” His rough voice holds a familiar possessiveness as he recalls. His fingers dig into your flesh as he bucks his hips up into you stringently, drawing more moans from you. “And I’m a very jealous man, doll.”

With a harsh slap to your ass, Jay proceeds to fuck the remnants of his pent-up emotions into your battered cunt that produces obscene squelches and splats of your skin meeting due to each relentless thrust as he picks up the speed, rendering you in complete shock at his stamina. He is practically jackhammering his cock into you with an impressive consistency. 

His dark eyes never leave your face that contorts beautifully into sheer pleasure with your head tilted back, your mouth agape, your eyes rolling to the back as you lose yourself in the sheer pleasure, sweat trickling down your jaw, your tainted neck with his hickeys a testament to his ownership. He has dreamed of having you like this.

Jay leans forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your every moan and breath, his head going into a frenzy as your cunt pulsating around him is a familiar telltale sign of your imminent release, highly infectious to his cock that teeters on the verge of the same release.

With another fierce thrust, Jay pulls you down by the hips at the same time he bucks his hips up, burying his cock to the hilt that sends an intense shockwave through your body, essentially triggering your teetering climax as you arch your back sharply with a wanton moan leaving you, your climax hitting you in torrential waves.

But Jay continues to thrust his cock into you, even after your release has coated his cock and is leaking messily from the persistent friction. You paw at his muscular pecs for reprieve. “I know, I know. Just a little more.” He grunts against your parted lips as you whine out your sensitivity.

With one last thrust, Jay lodges his cock to the hilt once more, hips going still as he moans deeply into your mouth, lips grazing against each other but not quite kissing, his orgasm washing over him like a torrent of ecstasy and his load filling your womb to the brim. His cock remains nestled in your cunt, feeling it gradually soften.

Wordlessly, Jay presses another kiss to your lips, one that you weakly reciprocate, before leaning his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling. You shudder lightly as he caresses your back in a soothing motion before falling languid against him. Even the sweat glistening on his skin doesn’t deter you from snuggling into him, your cheek pressing into his shoulder, basking in this temporary blissful afterglow.

“So it worked.” You break the serene silence as you utter quietly, and yet he can discern an underlying sense of amused satisfaction in your tone, earning a brow raised from him.

“What do you mean?” He asks in between the kisses he delivers to your crown and forehead while his arms around you feel like an affectionate embrace between lovers.

With your palms on his muscular pecs, you push yourself away from him to meet his confused eyes directly, mischief playing at the curl of your lips. “It was my intention to make you jealous, but I didn’t expect you to be genuinely jealous like that.”

Jay scoffs at your cheeky confession. “Were you trying to get back at me because of those ladies at the gala?” He probes with a playful accusation, but his eyes are steely with fierce conviction. “They don’t matter to me, not in the slightest. Irrelevant.”

“Partly,” You confess again with a simper smile while your heart flutters keenly at his words. Your fingers absentmindedly trace along the ridges of his abdominal muscles, sending perpetual shivers through him. “But the main reason was to get you to fuck me.”

“By making me jealous?” He gives you an incredulous stare despite the amusement in his tone, but something shifts in his demeanour dangerously, causing your senses to be on high alert. “That was a bad strategy, doll. You should’ve told me that you wanted me to fuck you instead.”

You become hyperaware of his predatory gaze penetrating into you, but you play off your nervousness with a chuckle. “Nah. It’s way more fun to make you jealous instead.” You attempt to push yourself off him, but his arms feel like a cage of lust as you feel a palpable tension brewing from the manifestation of his primal hunger for you.

“Trust me, you do not want to make me jealous, doll.” It all happens spontaneously, because you can barely register the escalation that renders your head dizzy from the way he manoeuvres to a position where he hovers over you, his broad frame preventing you from any form of escape.

“Jay—“ Your breath hitches while your pussy flutters around him as he begins to fuck you again with a renewed vigour, each ferocious thrust stealing your breath away. 

“Because this is what happens when you provoke me.” He growls out as he punctuates each word with an unforgiving thrust while his hips snap into yours painfully, and you sure are forming bruises by now, and yet, you desperately meet his every thrust.

His dark eyes glaring into your teary ones, a twisted satisfaction blooming in his chest as he watches you already falling apart from the instant overstimulation. He rears back to grab your leg and places it over his shoulder, hiding his surprise at your flexibility while the new angle allows him to fuck you deeply.

“No more gentleman Jay you thought I always was, doll.” His gravelly timbre is drowned out by your sweet moans and cries. His fingers go circling around your neck firmly, demanding your attention on him as you force your eyes to lock with his. “I’m going to fuck you till you remember who you belong to.”

And he does, pistoning his cock into your battered cunt relentlessly, but with brutal precision that has you seeing stars, borderline animalistic as though his hunger hasn’t been appeased after fucking you twice before this.

“Right there!” You moan out as soon as his tip hits the spongy spot that has your back arching sharply with each relentless thrust. With your arms wrapped around his broad back, your fingernails rake on his skin haphazardly, sending pleasurable sensations through him.

“I’m going to ruin you, doll.” He says darkly as he squeezes your neck, his tone holding a promise that both excites and unnerves you.

“All yours to ruin, daddy.” You sob out keenly, hiccups leaving your lips intermittently while your every sense is consumed by the overwhelming pleasure from his cock alone.

“My good girl loves to please me, yeah?” He rasps, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your lips, a stark contrast to the way his cock hammers into your sensitive cunt that feels devastating.

“Wanna please daddy all the time.” You utter brokenly, a single tear rolling down your cheek, to which he abandons your neck to wipe your rolling tears away affectionately.

“You always have, babydoll.” He croons, and you nearly physically purr at his adoring admission. He rears back just slightly and places his palm on your bulging lower abdomen. “Feel me here, doll? Looks like daddy’s cock is made perfectly just for you.” You nod your head mindlessly, unable to formulate coherent sentences.

In the intoxicating haze of lust, you grasp the opportunity to admire his very attractive face — his hair completely dishevelled and damp with sweat that also trickles down his sideburns, pure lust swimming in the depths of his eyes, his angular jawline seeming more defined, and his every feature and muscle taut with tension. A smirk touches his lips briefly as he catches you staring at him before increasing the intensity of his ruthless momentum.

“I can’t! It’s too much!” You sob out, your cunt clenching hard around him, and yet he manages to pound his cock into you with ease before driving you to the edge of sanity when his thumb rubs your clit with an unsparing vehemence, intensifying the band of your climax within you.

“Nothing is too much for this slutty pussy.” He growls, never faltering as each thrust is unyielding bringing him to greater heights of ecstasy while relishing the wet warmth of your cunt. “I haven’t even filled you up with my cum yet.” He groans before leaning down and taking your nipple in his mouth.

You are completely at his mercy, every assault of his cock, his mouth, and his fingers on your body alighting your nerves that send you to a state of complete euphoria, the world fading into insignificance. A litany of moans, cries, and screams emits from you, your coherent thoughts now fragmented from his relentless thrusts that have your whole body trembling beneath him.

Your tears are a silent plea for respite, but the pain that comes with pleasure feels beyond addicting, rendering you an insatiable cockslut for him as you roll your hips to meet his overpowering ones. You push your chest outward, enticing him to lick and bite your nipples that amplifies the pleasure coursing through you.

Jay is practically worshipping your tits despite his cock drilling into your battered cunt feeling punishing, enjoying the sensation of your perky nipples on his tongue and the fullness of your tits that prompts him to squeeze one before slapping it again. His back burns from your raking fingernails, but it only intensifies his insatiable hunger to fuck you with reckless abandon.

The band in your tummy becomes unbearable as it threatens to snap, and so with a loud moan, you surrender to the intensity of your orgasmic release while a familiar yet uncontrollable sensation surges through you as your eyes go white.

Jay watches with dark satisfaction as you squirt profusely even when he doesn’t relent from thrusting his cock into your ruined cunt while his thumb never relents from rubbing your clit, your obnoxious release soaking him and the sheets beneath you.

With a deep moan from his chest, he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure as he delivers one last thrust that hits your battered cervix deliciously before going completely still, pressing his hips into yours. He lowers your sore leg, giving you the impression that it is over as he slowly withdraws his cock from you.

Just as you intend to close your legs, Jay spreads them further apart, exposing your ruined cunt lewdly. A whimper leaves you as he uses the tip of his cock to tap your clit repeatedly. He smirks down at you. “You didn’t think that we were done, did you?”

After that, hours feel like a blissful eternity as the two of you succumb to the abyss of sheer pleasure, losing yourselves in the heady mix of sweat, lust, and the unadulterated smell of sex, staining his once pristine king-sized bed. Your body constantly craves both pain and pleasure, allowing him to fuck you in every position possible where he can see your face, desiring to watch as you fall apart before he puts back the pieces just for him to repeat the intoxicating cycle.

But eventually, the intensity of your sex marathon dwindles, shifting into something unfamiliarly tender that you have never felt throughout your past experiences, because the way he is fucking you now feels as though he is making love.

“Look at you. Weren’t you crying earlier about how it’s too much?” He teases, smirking down at you as you keenly meet his slow yet shallow thrusts.

“Shut up.” You moan out, not bothered by the embarrassing crack in your strained voice. You latch your hand on his bicep, feeling his muscles flexing beneath your touch. “Love your cock in me.”

“I know you do, doll.” He chuckles breathily before kissing you on the lips sweetly without faltering his momentum while you tangle your fingers in his damp strands, pulling him down until his chest presses into your tits as you seek the closeness.

“I’m close.” You whimper into the kiss, your heart fluttering at each tender caress of his lips on yours while the knot in your tummy is prepared to unravel for the last time.

“Me too, baby.” He rasps against your lips before pulling away and burying his head into the nook of your neck. His arm slides underneath your body to encase you, pulling you closer while his thrusts begin to stutter as he is teetering on the precipice. “Let it go for me, love.”

With a hard flick of his thumb on your clit and on his affectionate command, you surrender to the overwhelming release, your back arching off the mattress as you roll your eyes at the same time he tumbles over the edge of ecstasy, his hips going still as they press into yours while he fills you to the brim for the last time, finally attaining the pinnacle of your pleasures.

Your legs around his waist tremble tremendously from the aftermath while you convulse beneath him. You whimper out at the sensation of his cock dragging along your battered walls as he intends to pull out quickly, leaving your cunt empty but smeared from the union of your fluids.

Jay settles next to you, and though the exhaustion is hitting him like a freight train, he seeks to comfort you after doing a number on you, but when he turns to face you, you are already seeking his warmth without his help as you move closer before wrapping your arms around his torso. Your eyes linger on his chest and neck that are decorated with fresh scratch marks and some hickeys; each was your doing.

Feeling satisfied by your artwork on this fine masterpiece, you decide to relax in his warm embrace, his arm cradling your head while the other is around your waistline, his fingers caressing your skin tenderly. You gaze into his dreamy eyes that have been staring at your face. “Hi.” You whisper, gracing a small yet playful smile on your lips.

Jay cracks into a grin, making him look a decade younger. “Hi, honey.” He coos as he cradles your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly.

“That was amazing.” You confess earnestly, because indeed, that was the best sex you ever had, and he even has great stamina compared to the guys your age do. Sabrina was right — the older they are, the more experienced and better they are in bed.

His grin turns smug, to which you playfully narrow your eyes. “Better than your past experiences?” He asks with genuine curiosity, because honestly, he did have some thoughts about whether or not he met your standards despite his outward confidence.

“Way better. But I think you broke me.” You say half-jokingly, but really, he completely wrecked you, rendering every part of your muscle tremendously sore that even lifting a limb feels like a gruelling chore.

For a fleeting moment, concern swirls in his irises as he scans you. “Nonsense. You’re perfect.” He says so sincerely without hesitation.

Something so different yet tangled with familiarity stirs in your heart. “Really?”

He hums, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “You’re always perfect in my eyes, doll.” He murmurs, his eyes gleaming with affection as he gazes at you. His lips curl into a smile as you adorably snuggle into his bare chest. “As much as I would love to cuddle with you, daddy has to take care of you now.”

You tilt your head up, casting him a smirk. “So you have a thing for referring to yourself as ‘daddy’ now, huh?”

He narrows his eyes at you playfully before smacking your ass cheek, eliciting a small yelp from you. “I should be the one asking you that.” 

“Well, it seems fitting since you’re technically my sugar daddy.” You say with a thoughtful hum, oblivious to the bitterness painting his countenance that goes by quickly when you return your gaze to him.

“Right.” He chuckles dryly, hoping that he isn’t obvious enough to give away the bitterness that lingers within him. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at you. “Was I the first you called ‘daddy’?”

“The first and last.” You affirm with a grin, and he can’t resist kissing your nose; how you can switch between adorable and sensual still amazes him. You exchange kisses with him before he decides to untangle himself from you, being careful enough as your limbs are still entirely sore.

“Wait here. I’ll fill up the bathtub for us.” He informs you before walking away from you. Your eyes fall to his bare back before quickly turning away, your cheeks flushing warmly as the visual of his entire bare back is now committed to your memory.

You let the time pass quickly by taking a momentary rest with your eyes closed until you feel your body being manoeuvred before finding yourself being carried by strong arms, prompting you to snap your eyes open in surprise. Your eyes roam around his perfect side profile, admiring how perfectly sculpted his handsome face is.

“You know, you’re the first to ever show courtesy by providing aftercare.” You speak up as soon as he submerges into the filled bathtub with you, the warm temperature seeping into your sore muscles instantly. You find yourself seated on his lap sideways, allowing you to look directly into his eyes. “Thank you.”

His eyes soften at your earnest gratitude, but it doesn’t allay his dissatisfaction upon hearing your confession. “It seems that you had a pretty shitty taste in men, doll, because providing aftercare is actually a bare minimum.” He remarks, but his tone holds no malice, only an underlying indignation on behalf of you despite you not looking the slightest bit upset about your past experience.

“At least I have finally developed the right taste in men now.” You defend yourself, grinning cheekily at him, which brings out an amused exhalation from him while he reaches out for the shampoo bottle at the side. You watch him open it and squeeze the perfect amount of liquid onto his palm.

“I’m the only and last man you’ll ever be with.” He says, lathering the liquid with his palms before applying it to your hair and massaging your scalp, but he pauses as he looks at you with a serious gaze. “Unless you have any objections?”

“No. I quite like being with you.” You confess, your grin melting to a smile so soft while your eyes sparkle with genuine adoration as you look at him. “And I like you, Jay.”

His lips curl into a smile while his heart faintly throbs. “I know.” Of course, you like him since he’s your sugar daddy.

You take him by surprise as you throw your arms around his neck, the water around you splashing in the process. “I really, really like you.” You confess again with strong emphasis.

“I like you too, doll.” He reciprocates with such sincerity, his hands descending to your waistline before hugging you close to him. “I always have since day one. I like you a little too much.” He doesn’t even care that he might have fucked things up with you by confessing the truth, because really, he liked you at first sight.

Butterflies flutter wildly in your tummy at his confession, and yet, you don’t dare to breach the unspoken boundary that remains, what you truly mean to him. Instead, you lean closer to him, your tits pressing into his chest as you angle your head to an irresistible tilt. “Kiss me?”

Jay smirks briefly before dipping his head down and kissing you sweetly on the lips. He thinks that your lips alone are enough to forget his problems, how he wishes to bask in you forever, his newfound safe haven from the cold world he has been surviving ever since he embarked on a journey where he had only himself to depend on except his best friend.

“Sore.” You sigh against his lips before falling languid as you lean dependently into him. “Too tired to move.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He murmurs, being ever so tender with you, his hand rubbing your back comfortingly. “You can depend on me, honey.” Because he knows more than anyone how easy it is to crumble without dependency on anyone trustworthy.

With each step you take, your sore thighs quiver, prompting you to hold onto the wall for support while every part of your muscles and joints is terrifically tender, but instead of staying in bed a little longer, you need food to recharge your energy after last night’s hours of passion that still feel like a wet dream of yours, but the hickeys decorating your skin and the instability in your tremendously aching limbs are a testament to his promise of reminding you that you’re his, your cheeks flushing warmly at the memory.

Despite your body screaming for respite, you continue your journey to the kitchen, following the delectable smell wafting in the air while also taking in the interior decor of his sumptuous home, the muted colours a stark contrast to your colourful apartment, but charmingly minimalist that reminds you of the owner himself. Your heart instantly flutters at the thought of him, and the flutters intensify as you stop by the kitchen’s entryway.

With a silent wince, you take another step forward before you lean sideways against the wall with arms folded below your chest, watching him in silence as he gets immersed in his element with his broad, handsome back facing you. You find yourself smiling despite the untamed butterflies in your tummy, swooning over the domestic sight of your sugar daddy, who no doubt will be an ideal husband.

The black polo shirt fits his physique perfectly and displays his toned arms for your eyes to feast on, even more so when you catch the mere sight of his golden Rolex on his wrist. He nearly looks unrecognisable with his raven hair unfettered, the volume and some wispy strands hovering over his forehead making it look like he has his hair permed. In fact, he looks a decade younger.

“You might want to take a picture if you intend to stare at me all day. It’ll last longer.” Jay says without taking a glance at you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your cheeks flare with embarrassment, wondering how he can feel your silent presence when he’s been too immersed in cooking. Nevertheless, when your eyes meet his amused ones, you greet him with a sheepish smile. “Hi.”

Your tone sounds delicate as to the way you look, like a dream he never wants to wake up from. His softened eyes linger on your angelic face, but at the eventual realisation of his white button-down blouse being adorned on your figure, he feels the familiar hunger rousing within him. It intensifies when he notices that you are bare of any leggings since his blouse reaches the midsection of your gorgeous thighs. His gaze lingers on the glaring hickeys and faint bite marks on your once-pristine skin that he can’t seem to count. He really did ruin you.

Jay quickly masters self-restraint as he doesn’t wish to wreck you like he did last night. “Hi, honey.” He reciprocates gently, giving you a smile so soft that it looks radiantly dreamy. He places two ceramic bowls on the marbled island. “I made you breakfast.”

Your stomach rumbles instantly, but instead of heading straight for the steaming bowl, you feel a gravitational pull towards the man of your dreams instead. “I didn’t expect you to know how to cook.”

A smirk touches his lips while his eyes drink you in. “Surprised, doll?”

You hum, going straight for a hug that he wholeheartedly embraces you. “A delightful surprise, at that.” Your voice is muffled in his shoulder as you bask in his warmth and scent. “Any other secret talent about you that I should know?”

Jay chuckles breathily, an attractive tune that intensifies your feelings for him. “Stick around a little longer, and you’ll find out.” He says before planting a kiss on your crown. “Unless you intend on leaving me.”

There is an edge in his light-hearted tone, eliciting a frown from you, but your heartstrings tug painfully at the scenario that evokes a new insecurity within you as you imagine the opposite happening instead. “I don’t plan on leaving you, Jay.” You reassure him as you gently pull away to look at his face, your arms remaining attached around his torso. “Do you intend on leaving me—”

“No. Never.” He cuts you off sternly, his tone and eyes holding an unfathomable volume of promises that both scare and reassure you, because no one has ever looked at you like the way he does right now, as though he will do whatever it takes to keep you by his side. “You’re unforgettable, doll. I don’t think I could ever find someone like you.”

Your eyes trace his every beautiful feature that burns in your memory, how truly unreal that a man like him seems to cherish you more than you will ever realise. “You don’t feel real.” You mutter absentmindedly.

Jay adorns a charming smile, dimples showcasing on his cheeks. He feels a bubble of amusement in his chest as you continue to gaze at him dreamily. He takes you by surprise when he leans down and kisses your lips sweetly. “Do I feel real to you now?” He whispers against your parted lips before pulling away.

“So real.” A giggle leaves you, a contagious sound that widens his smile. You look at him with a woozy grin, your head spinning in a good way that makes you feel as though your dopamine has reached its apex. “Hi.”

“You sound and look drunk, honey.” He comments amusingly as he pinches your cheek, but not enough to hurt you.

“Can’t help it. You’re just so dreamy.” You sigh softly, your eyes falling to his lips before you lean forward with your head tilted to the right angle for your lips to fit with his, kissing him tenderly.

“Say you, beautiful. The woman of my dreams.” He murmurs against your lips, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer than you already were. He breaks the lip lock before he can get too carried away by your irresistible allure, chuckling fondly when you turn pouty. “Come on, honey. You can pout for as long as you want after breakfast.”

Not too long later, you are settled on the stool right next to him, slurping on your beef udon noodle soup that tastes delectably rich. Despite satisfying your hunger, your heart flutters every now and then at his every action—the way he delicately holds your hair and brushes the strands that seem to be getting in the way while you eat, giving you the small side dish of his homemade kimchi that is meant to be his after you finish yours. You simply wish for this moment to last a little longer.

“Just to let you know, I cleared my schedule for this whole week so that we’d be able to spend more time together.” He informs you as soon as the two of you finish the bowls of udon.

You pause from taking sips of your drink before slowly putting down the glass. You furrow your eyebrows in concern. “Is that really okay? I’m sure you’re busy with all the work.”

“It’s fine, honey. My secretary will handle the paperwork.” He smiles, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek affectionately. “I want to focus on you, on us. We haven't really spent that much time together anyway.”

Your heart swells with something so peculiar despite the recognisable affection. Your eyes soften as you place a hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for always making time for me.” 

Jay smiles softly, grabbing your hand before placing a kiss into your palm while you feel a familiar spark. “For you, always.”

Before you can speak, his chiming phone intervenes, prompting him to reach for his phone across the island. You take sips of your drink again, watching him from the corner of your eye and noticing how the radiant contentment on his face dims as he checks his phone.

“Is everything okay?” You ask tentatively as you put down your empty glass, your senses being aware of his dour mood despite the neutrality in his countenance.

Jay places his phone down and shifts his attention to you, his heart clenching as he scans your beautiful facial features. For a moment, he debates silently whether or not to let you know, as he hates for the light in your eyes to dim, but when your hand gently cradles his face, he caves in. “If it means leaving you for a few business trips abroad, then no, everything is not okay.” He confesses sullenly, leaning into your touch.

You try not to let the disappointment affect you deeply at the thought of his possibly long absence, as you have already expected this, since his job does require travelling overseas for business transactions, etc. “When?” You ask, your voice a steady neutrality.

“I should be making the proper arrangements by next week.” He informs, his dark brows furrowing as he seems to be thinking deeply.

You pull him out of his thoughts with a kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay. We still have this week to spend time together.” You say positively, mustering a wide smile that you hope is convincing to mask your disappointment.

“But it isn’t enough.” He counters, his tone lacing with frustration that borders on desperation, but you decide to allay his distressed emotions, giving his palm a tender kiss before positioning his hand to cup your cheek. His heart flutters at the unexpected action from you since he’s usually the one giving hand kisses. Just then, an idea pops in his head. “Honey, what do you think of travelling abroad?”

“I’ve always dreamed of being able to travel often once I gained financial stability.” You sigh softly, leaning into his touch while your beautifully sparkling eyes never stray off his face. “Why do you ask?”

Jay simply smiles, and his dimples are an adorable presence on his cheeks. “Because I’m going to make your dreams come true.”

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[madamechrissy]

✞ Forgive me For I have Sinned ✞

✞ Pairings: Priest Gojo x Fem Reader

✞ Word count - 5.7k

✞ Content/Warnings- You keep having dreams about Father Gojo, and he decides to try to save your slutty soul <3 NSFW, sacrilegious, confessional fucking, rosaries as bondage, lots of filling you w/love and light, oral (both receiving) fingering, explicit church sex, reader is a lil bimbo and innocent fr, Gojo has a HELL of a God complex (canon tbh) overall kinky asf

A/N- Booking the tix to hell-who's coming with!? I based off this drabble of mine: Priest! Gojo (you can read it first if you want!) Reader and Gojo are in their mid 20s. Enjoy!

It was hot outside, a scorching summer day, the type that made you want to jump in an icy cool lake naked, but in the sanctuary of this pristine church which is kept rather cool, you still have a drip of sweat beading down your collarbone. You’re wearing a pretty red summer dress, your little hat right next to you in the pew, as you watch him with avid attention.

Father Satoru Gojo.

The entire church is in love with him, enamored by him, there are admiring whispers even amongst the most vigilant catholics, the ones who would judge you for coming not in your Sunday best. They hid it well enough, acting as if they only cared so much because his sermons were so powerful, because he was so young and profound already.

But you know better, and they know better deep down, that Father Gojo was just gorgeous, a face chiseled to perfection, tall and broad shouldered, swoon worthy by all accounts. His husky voice and insane presence that shines brilliantly like a million diamonds certainly helps, but his face itself is so pretty it’s angelic.

When he looks at you with those brilliant blue eyes, swirling like a moody storm, all glittery behind those snowy white lashes? Well you feel…

You’re going to hell.

Last night you’d had this insane dream of him, where he has asked you to serve him on your knees, just as he would offer that eucharist and wine to you, but instead it’s his cum you’re swallowing. And you’re a good, God fearing girl, so, you certainly should not do or think of such things! And worst of all, with your priest, Father Gojo. He has vows too, yet you’d committed much sin already.

Just last night you’d awakened throbbing, having dreamt of pleasuring him, on your knees before him, and you’d been soaking wet and dripping down your shorts, even the sheet had a wet spot. You’d rubbed your swollen little clit in circles, gasping and arching your back, feeling fevered as you committed such sins, as picturing Father Gojo had you climaxing all over your own fingers.

You’d been so ashamed this morning! You’d splashed cold water on your face, staring at yourself in your mirror, shivering as the cool water dripped down your skin, knowing you should stay home, find some new church. You are full of impure thoughts and sin, and it’s all because of him, how could you confide in him that you feel this way, think this way?

What would he do if he knew? Cast you out or…

Stop it.

But as you’re crossing your legs, shifting your hips, you see Satoru Gojo’s full, pouty lips part, his eyes directly on you. You pause then, eyes wide, you must be imagining it, your sin surely is carrying over too far… but you test it, crossing your legs once more, and sure enough, his eyes follow your legs up, between your thighs, surely seeing your panties.

That gives you a fucking thrill you can’t describe, as does him licking his thumb, going to another page as he continues his sermon, women all over are fanning themselves, enamored by him. But perhaps none so much as you, picturing what’s under that cassock, under those white robes he wears, what that long, lithe body would feel like against yours.

You imagine your dream vividly later when he’s giving you the eucharist, placing the biscuit on your tongue as you hold your mouth open on your knees, then you see it, the hunger mirrored in his eyes. You tremble when he brushes a thumb over your lower lip, and your eyes drift to his lap, where you clearly see he’s hard. You gulp it down, looking up at him and taking the wine now.

Father Gojo looks down at you, white hair falling over a brow, finding your beautiful eyes are affecting him as much as your stance on your knees, his thumb finds your chin now, imagining shoving his cock between perfect lips. Surely, you are here to tempt him, to ruin him, you are sin itself, haunting his dreams, making him hard in the middle of church, right in his own service.

You look at it then, his cock under the cassock that’s becoming too tight, before licking your lip, eyes back up to his hungrily. You look like such a good girl, but your eyes tell another story, a story of wanting to get fucked hard, to be filled by him, wanting to have his cum all over your pretty face. He imagines that as the wine drips down your lips now.

Fuck he’s going to hell if he stays around you, surely even he has rules to uphold even if he certainly is God’s chosen. But… perhaps since he is God's chosen, it’s his duty to help a little sinful girl like you. And as you rise, holding his hand, and your breasts brush against his chest, you’re far too close, he vividly pictures yanking them out of that dress, tempting him to no end.

Of course you ask for confessional, and he’s dying at the thought of being so close to you, when all he thinks of is how good you look, how good you smell, and he is left to wonder, do you taste that good? Your pretty neck, your delicate collarbone, your pussy? Surely he should not think such things, but as he looks at you through the lattice of the confessional separating you both, he cannot stop his mind.

“Father Gojo… I fear my confession is most wicked.” Comes your breathy little voice, only serving to make Father Gojo’s thick length harden, picturing what your little moans must sound like when properly fucked.

“Go on, my pr- my child, you may tell me anything.” He says, coughing a bit, because he’d rather call you a pretty little slut, and he has no clue why the devil likes to try him so hard. It’s all your fault, truly. Pretty little thing.

“Okay… but…” You take a breath. “I have dreams of someone fucking me, someone I should not.” You say nervously, and watch him shift in his seat, you can smell his cologne so much in here, making you thirst more for him.

“It’s natural to have thoughts, my child.”

“No, Father Gojo… I’m playing with myself, thinking of him. Of… sucking him, or of him laying on top of me.” You hear Father Gojo making a choking sound, and you panic. “I’m so sorry! I…”

“Ahem, no, no… continue.” Father Gojo’s cock is straining, he can already feel precum sticking to his tip, picuring you touching your pussy, he bets it’s so pretty, bet it tastes so-

Sinful girl, aren’t you?

Surely that’s all this is, not… him wanting to sin! Father Satoru Gojo certainly is perfect, he’s God’s perfect creature, so if he wants this, it must be on you. Sin in a perfect little body with a perfect little face, and a voice that drives him to utter distraction. Surely, Father Gojo must try to save you.

“Father, I cannot stop thinking of him, he’s in all my dreams. What should my penance be, how many hail marys?”

Father Gojo has to stroke himself to adjust his huge, throbbing cock now, as he watches you through the lattice, biting your full lower lip, your head falling back, hair cascading. Hair he wants to pull as he fucks you from behind, making you arch your back to take more of his cock.

“I have to ask how you’re doing it… so that I can tell you your penance, so that I may try to save you.” He says, husky now, and you whimper softly, shifting on the bench, your pussy throbbing around nothing, picturing his cock filling you.

“How I do it, Father Gojo?”

“Yes, it’s… important to confess.”

“Well, I take my fingers, and I find my pussy with them, I roll them around my clit over and over, I get so wet that they slip- Father are you okay?” Satoru can’t stand it, he’s stroking his bare cock under his robes, resting his head against the wall, struggling not to cry out as he’s pumping.

“Ahem… indeed I am. So you finger your little pussy then?” At his words you’re a blushing mess, breaths coming more rapidly, your hands gripping the bench, dying for friction as you’re soaking your panties.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you slip your fingers in?”

“I… no! Um… no.”

“And you cum?”

“I… yes. I do cum. Imagining him.” You’re watching those robes rise and fall, then you know it, Father Gojo is stroking his cock right next to you.

“I see… I think I can help alleviate some of this, perhaps give you some guidance so that you do not afflict yourself so.” You want to touch yourself now, when you hear those breathy pants, your fingers clinging to the lattice.

“Yes, father, I need your guidance.” Cock, fingers, mouth… fuck you’re a full sinner, aren’t you!?

“Then come here, let us have our first attempt at saving you.”

Now you’re standing in front of him in the itty bitty room, face to face with Satoru Gojo, your Priest, and fuck if your nipples don’t tighten up, if your tummy isn’t clenching with desire. You’re nervously fiddling with your hands as he leans back, spreading his long legs as wide as they can in the tight quarters, his glittering blue eyes dilated as he licks his lips, making them glossy.

“You must show me how, and do not fret, sweet girl, it’s through god’s will of course, through me.” Father Gojo says, your breaths come faster as you slip up your sundress, and his eyes hungrily drink the sight of your bare thighs in. He leans forward, sliding those panties down, eyeing your glistening cunt now, his breath almost hitting it, making you jerk.

“Father… I cannot show you…”

“You can, I am here to help, have no fear.” He notices you’ve drenched your panties, a wet spot formed, sticky little strands of your arousal apparent as he pulls them down, hands touching the smooth skin of your thighs.

You put your hand on your pussy now, the other nervously holding up your dress, and you run your fingers in circles on your clit, crying out softly, as he lets out a low, guttural moan. You’re getting wetter as you play, as his large, sexy hands clench, the veins popping up out of the thin skin, and you’re trembling, imagining his long fingers working you instead.

Satoru is close to cumming as he watches your pretty face, your brows drawing together, your lips parted, eyes so dilated your pupils are taking over, just a thin ring of your iris left. Your lashes are lowered, and his hand stops yours now, as it’s playing with your soppy little cunt, you tremble before him.

“I see, I must help you, guide you. To get this… affliction taken care of. Yes?” You nod eagerly, then Father Gojo pulls you to his lap, and you’re straddling him, your hands sliding up to feel his strong shoulders under his robe, and he is touching your pussy instead, making you whimper. “Need me to save you, pretty little sinner?”

“Please save me. Please. Ah!” Satoru sinks two long fingers deep inside your eager little entrance, you gasp at it as he slips into your gummy walls, drippy and so tight. He’s paused, moaning and looking right into your eyes, you drown in his blue gaze, as your cunt drools down his hand. “Father Gojo… please…”

“Begging for it, are you? So tight, it’s so… have you had anything inside this perfect little pussy?” He huffs, feeling how you’re squeezing his fingers, then he hits some spot that makes you see stars, pumping up and down over and over. You cling to him, eyes fluttering shut. “Answer me, be a good girl for once, would you?”

Good girl for once.

There’s no hope for you.

“Nothing… no one… just you, Father Gojo. Mmm!” You’re covering your mouth as he keeps pumping, and he moans, dreaming of breaking you in all the ways he could, taking your innocence for himself. It’s surely what god is wanting, and who is he but god’s disciple himself? He thrusts those fingers knuckles deep, watching you fall apart over him.

“There, you’re loving this, fingers stretching your pussy, don’t you?” You nod weakly, gushing down his hand, you can hear the squishing wetness of your pussy as he now slides a thumb, rolling it over your clit.

“F-father Gojo!”

“Sinful girl.” He huffs, as you’ve buried your face against his neck, rocking against his hand, those long fingers fucking you so good it’s painful, moaning.

“Mmm! Father Gojo, I will… be good… for you…”

“Will you?” You nod weakly, as Satoru rolls your clit expertly, and you feel the pressure building, you’re panting, ready to combust. “I feel it, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, hips grinding, now you’re soaking his robes, he’s picturing sliding his cock inside you, breaking you, until your sins are cleansed, and you’re picturing him taking you, defiling you in every way your hectic mind can picture. Both of you are about to cum, you’re not even touching Satoru though, you want to, fuck you want to.

“Close, m’close… p-please…” You’re begging for release, seeing stars as he works your now sloppy cunt.

“I've got you, you can let go, you're safe with me, let me see your sins so I can cleanse them.” He urges you on, bringing you higher and higher with those long, slick fingers.

“Father, it's... I'm gonna... mmm!” You're so close, soaking the sleeve of his robe now. And he's so ready to slide into your eager cunt, looking up at you behind snowy lashes.

“Show me how you sin, let me watch you cum, so I can... help you.” He whispers, and you fall apart then, pulsing around his fingers, and he groans as he watches you, pressing up so deep. You’re gushing so much arousal, he can smell your sweet scent, as you scream out into your little hand, shaking.

Satoru is now sliding his fingers out, you whine, wanting more, especially when he is sucking your juices off his fingers, making you gasp. His cheeks hollow, his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you, your mouth drops open, breaths making you quicken, your heart pounding in your ears as you try to come down.

Your thighs are trembling over him, entire body lit up from cumming so hard, his snowy lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, before fluttering up, looking at you, your arousal coating his lips. “Oh my God.”

More sinning.

“You’re not being a very good girl.” He admonishes, but then his lips quirk up. “But, you taste too sweet to be bad. Or perhaps you yourself are sin.” Father Gojo whispers to you now, and you’re leaning closer, rolling your hips, making him groan, his hands gripping your little waist as your heat brushes against his cock. “Has it alleviated some of your… need, my child?”

He’s smirking at you, in a way no priest should! You sigh then, shaking your head. “No, Father, it’s only made it worse! You must help me more, I’m afraid now I’m thinking of sinning even more, and who I’ve been dreaming of.” You say then, it’s a whisper, as the room is hot from your breaths, smelling like sweet arousal.

Satoru blinks then, thin white brows going together, jaw clenching. “You’re thinking of fucking your own priest? That is a sin.”

“I know! It’s a terrible affliction. Oh Father, I’m going to hell.” You whisper, blinking back tears, still reeling from the aftershocks of cumming. Satoru arches his hips now, brushing his cock against your pussy, and you nearly scream out, head falling back, exposing your throat to him, and he pictures his hand wrapping a rosary around your neck, pulling tight.

You’ve dreamt of him too!? Surely this must be a sign.

A temptation.

But does he want to fight it? Your taste is all over his mouth now, as he feels your sexy little body against him, his hands brushing against your breasts, watching your nipples perk up. You look at him with intoxicated eyes, lips parted, your tiny hands clinging to his robes as you grind again, and he shudders at how fucking good it feels, your heat on him.

“I see… Well you must come to me tomorrow, and we will have to try harder, to save your soul.” He says huskily, you nod eagerly, as he helps you off him, his cock close to cumming, already twitching, he slides your soaked, ruined panties into his robes, you surely do not need them anymore.

“What if I have another dream father!”

“Do not touch yourself, I will help you when you come in, that’s so we can try to save you, yes?” You nod then, leaning close to his lips.

“Father, is it a sin to kiss your lips?”

“Not if you feel a calling, surely God wishes you to.” He murmurs, and you peck a sweet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on him, before forcing yourself out of the cramped quarters, body on fire, leaving Satoru to finish stroking his cock, cumming as he shoves your panties against his face.

******

You’re dreaming of him again, of Father Gojo, this time his snowy white hair is brushing against your thighs, his tongue is lapping up all the dripping wetness, his big hands pressing into the plush of your thighs. You wake up throbbing, crying out, seeing how wet you are, as the ceiling fan whirls, failing to cool your overheated flesh. Father Gojo’s fingers made it worse, your affliction!

The next day you’re painfully turned on, pussy aching for more, you followed his instructions and did not touch yourself, instead you forced yourself to go back to sleep, now you’re in the nearly empty church, knocking at the door of Father Gojo’s office. You hear his deep voice speak.

“Come in.” You nervously walk in, you are wearing a shorter blue sundress today, and no panties. You know Father Gojo will see how sinful you are, but when you see his perfect face, and him wearing a thinner, lighter white robe, your pussy is already making your thighs sticky. “My child, lock that door, so we can have privacy… we would not want your confessions judged.”

“Yes, thank you Father.” You lock the door with a click, stepping to him, your heels clicking on the wooden floor of his room. He’s sitting in his chair, fingers steepled, studying your body carefully.

“Do you have any updates on your affliction, pretty girl?”

“Pretty girl…” You’re blushing worse now.

“I feel I must call you what the lord is telling me. Is that alright with you?” You nod nervously, standing before him, the desk separating you. “So how were your dreams last night?”

“They were of you again, Father Gojo. I’m so sorry!”

You cover your face in embarrassment, hearing the soft thumps of his shoes as he comes to you, taking you by your wrists, big hands enveloping the delicate wrists entirely. Your head tilts back to look at him, he’s so tall and big… you’re drinking in the sight of him, his black rosaries hanging across his broad chest.

“You must tell me these dreams, so I may help you. Perhaps they’re some sign that we must see.”

“You… you were licking me, between my thighs.” His nostrils flare slightly, those swirling blue eyes thirsty as he studies you, your thighs shift, his hands still tight on your wrists.

“Your slutty little pussy, I was licking it?” Your pussy is clenching, tummy coiling, at his nasty, sinful words, from such a pure man. You nod then. “I see, there’s no choice, we must see what enacting your dreams does. To try to save you.”

“Y-yes, father, I think so too.” You whisper, hands sliding up and down his chest, watching his Adam's apple bob under that white collar. “Does it ever get uncomfortable, Father Gojo?”

“At times. Take it off for me.” He turns and you undo the collar, when he turns back you see it, his strong neck, the muscles corded, you bite your lower lip, earning him pulling it from your teeth. “This dream, describe it, so I can help you.”

You’re a flustered mess, especially after his fingers yesterday, and all the dreams you’ve been having. You take several breaths now. “You were licking me.”

“More descriptive.” He murmurs now, sitting you up on his desk, shocking you, then he slides up your skirt and smirks, wicked priest that he is, blue eyes darting back up to yours. “No panties, your soul is so slutty.”

“I… well… Father Gojo!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit with his thumb, watching you writhe on his desk now, as he sits back in his black chair, scooting up, his breath right against you.

“You wanted this, to be bare in front of me, didn’t you pretty little sinner?”

“Y-yes, I told you, I’m going to hell, mmm!”

He’s kissing your thighs, your hands enwrap in his silky white hair now, his breaths higher and higher, eying your perfect, glistening pussy. He’s dying to feel you dripping down his tongue, dying to drink your sweet nectar flowing when he’s opening up the lips of your pussy, and you’re making those pretty sounds, you’re so pathetic already, he thinks.

“No, I will save you, don’t you believe in me, pretty? I alone speak for God, I’m the honored one.” His words along with his eyes, those glittery blue storms that see right through you, as if they know your every sin, wreck you now. He surely must be the honored one.

“You’ll save me, I know you will.” You whisper, caressing his cheek now, and he moans softly, just urging you on more.

“That’s a good girl. Now tell me, what did I do in this dream?”

“You licked me, here.” You touch your slit, and he slides his tongue up it now, making you gasp, his tongue is so hot and wet, you’re gushing just from that. Satoru moans, kissing right over your clit before swiping his tongue again. “Father!”

“Shh, lest they hear your sinful mouth.” He whispers, and you clench your teeth, nodding as you watch him, he is placing your feet on either arm of his chair. “And you did not play with yourself?”

“I swear I did not, Father Gojo! I listened. Please…” You arch your hips up, full pussy in his face, and Satoru begins to devour you now, spreading your lips and flicking his tongue on your little swollen clit over and over. You have to slap a hand over your mouth, his rosary is cool against your inner thigh as he works your pussy, just like your dream.

Satoru’s tongue is wicked, for such a holy man you think, and it does the most wicked things to you, no dream could prepare you, even his fingers had not. He sucks your clit into his hot open mouth, moaning as your juices coat his tongue, looking up at you as you cling to his hair with one hand, the other muffling your cry as you feel yourself begin to cum.

Soon you are cumming right on Father Gojo’s face, your thighs shaking on either side of his head, pussy pulsing around nothing, and he’s drinking you up, so lewd in the quiet church office. You’re jerking now, as he leans up, half his pretty face shining with your slick, making you flush at how much there was. Your hand eases down, now just gasping for breath as you look at him.

“And now, my child, how is this affliction?” He whispers, leaning up and laying atop you, pressing you into the wooden desk. You lean up, kissing him once more, earning his moan, tasting yourself all over him, he grabs you by the throat then, long fingers wrapping as he pulls back. “How hard do I have to work to save your slutty little soul, hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Father Gojo. It was so amazing… but I just want more, I fear I’m having more lustful thoughts of you now.” Your hand slides down now, cupping him where he’s thick and hard, and he squeezes your throat harder now, his thumb on your racing pulse.

“And what else is in that little brain of yours? What lewd fantasies of your priest, hmm?”

“Sucking your cock, that’s what.” He groans now, pulling you down and putting you to your knees. You look up eagerly, now Satoru is undressing, and you finally get glimpses of his body, of hard muscles and planes as he’s taking off his robes, now opening his pants for you, revealing a huge, thick cock. You gulp as you drink in the sight of it.

“And do you know what to do, how to serve me, my child?” He asks, you shake your head. “Yet you’ve dreamt it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then it’s surely meant to be, hmm? First, slide down your top.” You do as he says, and he moans as he sits back in his chair, gripping your bare breasts. “My God,  you’re made to ruin me. Come here, open your mouth.”

You do as he says, and Father Gojo now guides you by your hair, hair he wraps around his fist, guiding you down on his cock. His curved pink tip is leaking white pearly substance, which you tongue out, earning his grown, his head falling back. You suck him eagerly, swirling your tongue, as his eyes watch you, lidded and dazed, tasting his saltiness and sweetness eagerly.

“You’re far too good at this, are you sure you haven’t been sucking cock, like a sinful brat?” You pull back with a pop, saliva dripping down your lips.

“No, I only want to serve you, Father.”

“Mmm, you’re so precious.” He whispers, before shoving your mouth back on him, and you’re bobbing up and down as he pulls your hair, using it to glide you up and down his length. Your eyes water, your nose starts running as his cock is choking you, your pussy throbbing even more. “Fuck…”

“Father, did you cuss?” You ask, pulling back, with a shy little grin, earning Father Gojo’s smirk.

“I’m allowed to, it’s all God’s words. Now are you finally satisfied, or do we need to go further? Do I need to break your pretty little pussy?” He murmurs, his words like a drug, running his thumb across your lower lip. You nod then, weakly, and his lips part, eyes studying you. “Then ask me, on your knees so pretty, like you’re praying.” He puts your hands in prayer position, blue eyes lighting up.

“Please, break me, Father Gojo.” He pulls you up now, kissing you deeply, tongues so unpracticed and messy, you’ve never really even kissed, but now you feel him, filling you once more with those two fingers as he bends low.

“Turn around and bend over, sweet sinner.” You turn, and now Father Gojo has slid your dress down, leaving you in just your heels, his big hands gliding down every line and curve of your bare body. “I said bend over.”

He smacks you sharply on your backside, making you gasp then whine out, as he presses your upper back between your shoulder blades, your face against his desk. He then takes your hands, putting them behind your back and wrapping them with his black beaded rosary. You whine out at the sensation, he pulls it so tightly it’s digging in, shoving the cross in your palms.

“Hold on to that cross while I fuck your innocent little pussy. Feel it against your skin as I do.” He says, whispering in your ear. You nod, feeling the sharp cool silver digging in, as the beads dig into your bound wrists. “Good girl, spread those thighs.”

You do as he says, and then his tip is in, stretching you, and you’re shivering, breaths coming faster and faster. Satoru shoves his cock inside you, tearing at your little barrier. You cry out at the pain, and he pauses for a moment, moaning, letting you adjust. “H-hurts…”

“Just a moment of pain to fill you with my light.” He murmurs, sinking deeper, and your walls are fluttering around his cock, earning his groan. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Did you want me to take it, your innocence?”

“I’ve w-wanted you, so long… played with… a long ah- time.” He moans now, sliding back out and in, you’re so wet and ready the pain eases quickly, as he takes you from behind now, pulling on your neck, pressing your bound hands firmer against your back, whispering in your ear.

“You sinned so long, playing with this pussy thinking of me?” You nod weakly, hiccuping on a cry as he’s pumping now, taking you over, stretching your tight cunt out so much, your skin burns, but you crave it.

You’re going to hell, surely.

But it seems worth it to be stretched by his cock so well.

“Y-yes… a long time. S-sorry Father…”

“Just Satoru when you cum all over my cock, hmm?” You nod weakly, then he fucks you harder now, thighs smacking your skin, his pelvis smacking your now sore ass cheeks, balls smacking your clit. “Ah, and you’re close already and your first time? You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Satoru!” You scream out so loud he’s palming your mouth with his huge hand, taking over your face, shoving his cock in and rolling his hips, making you climax so hard you cannot see. You weakly drool out of your lips onto his hand, as he feels your velvety walls fluttering around him.

You are made for this, for his cock, to take him. Your sweet virgin pussy is getting so filled by Father Gojo’s huge cock, but you’re already taking him so well. Father Gojo knows then that your dreams and his must be for a better purpose, to fuck you and fill you with all of his light, surely. You’re taking him more and more, cumming so hard your cunt is drooling everywhere.

He lets your face go, looking at your fucked out expression, your mouth is wide open, that drool dangling out the corner, your eyes are rolled back, lashes fluttering, your ass arching up for more. You’re such a sinful creature, but he knows your innocence was made for just him, clearly. You would not have anyone else, he would surely see to it.

It’s God's calling.

You’re pounded and stuffed by his huge cock, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, ass jiggling with the force, then Satoru pulls your chin to face him, he’s so fuzzy, you keep shutting your eyes.

“Look at me, my child, now.” He whispers, and you open your eyes, staring into his weakly as his thrusts slow.

“Y-yes, Satoru…” He moans at the use of his name from your pretty lips.

“I’m saving you, through… mmm… God’s wisdom.”

“Thank you, thank you!” You’re trembling, he’s rolling his hips and that tip is dragging on your spot, you struggle to focus on his pretty face, the sun from the blinds filtering in behind his head, and then he looks like an angel. The cross is digging in so much your hand is bleeding just a bit, but you truly couldn’t care, his cock feels too good inside you.

“Do you want me to… fill you…” He’s crying out then, grabbing you so tightly you can’t breathe. “With God’s love… and light?”

“Please, fill me Father- ah!” Satoru starts pumping faster and faster, yanking on your rosary so hard it breaks as he begins to cum, the beads flinging and clattering all over the wooden floor, the cross still digging into your broken palm.

“Going to put… so much… light in you… fill you-” He moans loudly then, and you feel hot liquid pumping inside, bringing you to cum with him, as it coats your walls, hot and sticky. “Feel it? Feel me filling you with it?”

“I do! I do… Father Gojo… feel it.” You whine out, rolling your hips to milk him for every bit of his hot white ropes.

“Oh… Mmm…” He’s pumping more cum inside you now, but you’re so wet and still convulsing, so it’s dripping down his cock with your arousal. Satoru exhales, pulling out and then wiping you up, turning you gently, gulping as he kisses you once more. “You were sent here to destroy me.”

“Father, I’m afraid… I only want to do it more.” You whisper, he groans, cupping your face, as you bring up your hand to him, where the cross has left red marks on your palm, he traces it, the perfect symbol of the cross, with little blood drops streaking. You wince in pain.

“I see, it’s a sign we must continue.” He says, and you nod eagerly, as he holds your hand in his.

“We must, Father Gojo.”

*****

The next Sunday, you’re sitting in the very front for the sermon, watching as Father Gojo is licking a thumb and turning a page, his blue eyes darting to your thighs, today you’re wearing a pink summer dress. Father Gojo has stolen a pair of your panties, he thinks you don’t notice, but you do, so you decide not to wear any again, opening your legs for a moment.

Father Gojo gets a glimpse of your bare, glistening pussy right in that church, making his cock hard in front of a room full of hundreds of his followers. Luckily the brown stand in front of him covers up such evidence, as he looks over at your face when you cross your sexy legs, you smile up at him, blinking innocently.

But you’re not innocent, not anymore, are you? No, you’re the worst sinner he’s tried to save, and he thinks he’ll have to work harder to save you. And when you’re riding his cock in the confessional later that evening, and he’s biting on your breasts, you’re riding him so well, moans muffled in the tiny room, he’s not sure he can save you truly, you’re too full of sin.

Father Gojo enjoys your slutty soul and your soaking wet pussy on him far, far too much, especially filling you with his cum light.

Serving Father Gojo is perfectly fine, it's God's will after all 🙏 Nanami and Geto drabbles coming some time too <3 Reblog if you're a sinner <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60569476

[pineapplepr1nc3ss888]

THIS IS YOUR WAKE UP CALL:

this is not a game, there is no time to procrastinate, there is no “can you manifest for me?”?? NO! when are you going to realise your own power? seriously? you have infinite realities with infinite desires all waiting for you if you just decided to have it? this is your own life! all that time you wasted crying and complaining when you could have screwed your head on and told yourself fuck this im getting my desire and im not accepting any less!! i’m going to get that SP, im going to receive thousands of pounds, im getting that job or house, im going on that holiday, im gonna be friends with that person, im going to induce void state.. BLAH BLAH BLAH. whilst you are sitting crying to yourself wondering what the hell is wrong with you and why you can’t manifest shit whilst someone else has just manifested someone confessing their love for them you need to take a good look at yourself, your subconscious has no eyes and has no choice but to keep producing into your reality whatever the hell you are assuming and confirming to it, if you are sitting assuming you can’t manifest shit then guess what bb, your poor subconscious is gonna make manifesting 10x harder for you because of what you are assuming it’s not your subconscious’s fault or anyone else’s fault, it’s yours. you need to realise that if you aren’t inducing the void state or manifesting all your desires that is no one’s fault but your own, you need to look at what you are doing wrong because your subconscious is basically your slave sure it knows you best and knows what you want but it’s job is to listen to your thoughts and if you are assuming manifesting is so damn hard or you can’t induce the void state or this person will never be in love with you or you’re always broke then your subconscious mind is just gonna roll with whatever you are thinking cos that’s its job! you wanna make this your year? get your head out your ass, and stop thinking the worst. you are the creator you give the orders and your subconscious serves you! stop crying! stop whinging! stop complaining! this is your life you are playing with, it’s not a game. you can have anything you want if you just realise the power you have and apply the knowledge every single person has told you. we can’t manifest shit for you, if we manifested something we done that in our own reality but you have your reality where you still don’t have your desire until you wake up and start assuming. you can either keep procrastinating or you can have your desire: your choice.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #45

Mine, Mine, MINE!

Imagine this….

I know Damian is raised in an environment where he is treated as a prince, the only grandson, the heir. Sure those privileges may come in the price of ripping his innocence and childhood away from a very young age. In the end he got everything he  ever wanted nor needed. A single word from him and all gather around to get what he needed.

But there will be a day where there is something you cannot get no matter your demands or commands.

….

By the time Damian could form full sentences, he had learned the art of taking. To demand was his birthright; to receive was merely the universe setting itself right. If another child had a toy, Damian wanted it. If a servant carried a blade of exceptional craftsmanship, it belonged in his collection. Even as a young boy, his chambers were overflowing with silken robes, masterfully forged weapons, and rare treasures pilfered from across the world.

His first words had been "Mine." He was greedy from the cradle, claiming everything within reach with an iron will and a clenched fist. As an infant, a single furrow of his brow or a half-formed cry summoned an entire team of wet nurses, attendants, and servants who scrambled to appease him, terrified of drawing the ire of the Demon’s heir. His crib was adorned with silk imported from lands that no longer existed, and gold-threaded blankets were replaced the moment they became even slightly soiled.

When he took his first steps, the world shifted to accommodate him. Marble floors were polished before his feet touched them, and his path was lined with offerings—daggers forged by masters, scrolls of ancient knowledge, carved figurines from forgotten civilizations. Every item he glanced at was quietly removed from its place and added to his collection, regardless of its original owner. He collected without remorse, hoarded without gratitude. His chambers grew into miniature treasure vaults, filled with relics and riches that served no purpose beyond feeding his insatiable desire to own.

Neither Talia nor Ra’s al Ghul discouraged his possessiveness. To them, it was simply a symptom of his lineage. The blood of conquerors and kings ran in his veins, and if he took, it was only because he was destined to. The League of Assassins reinforced this belief with every passing day. He was not taught humility or restraint—only power, precision, and domination. He was forged to rule, molded to believe that the world was his birthright.

But then there was Danyal.

His twin, born under the same stars, shaped from the same blood, yet utterly alien in his quiet nature. Danyal never demanded, never claimed, never expected. While Damian amassed trinkets and trophies with the entitlement of a young emperor, Danyal existed in the spaces left behind—content with simplicity, with little, with the unremarkable. When Damian snatched one of his brother’s few meager toys and added it to his already overflowing pile, Danyal gave no protest. He simply let it go, his eyes soft, his hands uncurled, his expression free of malice or resentment.

To Damian, this was a maddening contradiction. They were both of noble blood. They were descendants of kings, warriors, legends. Danyal should have yearned for greatness, fought for it. But instead, he bowed his head, stepped aside, and surrendered without a sound. Damian saw weakness. He saw foolishness.

When Danyal died on a mission gone wrong, Damian did not weep. His hands did not tremble, his eyes did not stray from the trail of blood that marked the last place his twin had stood. The League moved on without pause, the death barely a footnote in their endless ledger of sacrifice. There was no funeral pyre, no rites or remembrance. The corpse was retrieved, cataloged, and discarded like a failed weapon. Damian told himself it was fate, a destiny trimming the weak from their bloodline.

Danyal had never fought for more. He had never claimed what was owed to him. In Damian’s mind, that made him unworthy. A noble soul without the teeth to defend its title. A flickering candle smothered by the wind. And so Damian forced himself to move on. He trained harder, sharper, faster. He swallowed whatever little grief he has and reforged it into ambition.

At ten years old, when he was finally sent to Gotham, he carried himself like a young prince returning to his rightful throne. He arrived at his father’s doorstep cloaked in expectation, armored in superiority. His every step was deliberate, as if the very ground of Wayne Manor should bend to his will. He was the blood heir, the legacy reborn. Everything in the manor should have been his.

But instead of reverence, he was met with resistance.

When he challenged Drake—Timothy Drake, the imposter who had dared to stand at his father’s side—Damian expected combat, a duel to settle succession. He anticipated a fight that would end with his place solidified and his father's acknowledgment finally secured. But Drake refused. He did not raise a hand. He yielded with words instead of steel, and Damian, raised in a world where weakness was unforgivable, saw it as cowardice.

Worse still, Bruce his father had intervened. Not as a warrior stepping into the arena, but as a father—shielding the usurper. Protecting someone who had no claim, no birthright, no Ra’s al Ghul in his lineage, no biological connection that is burning in his veins. Damian had lashed out. Fury surged through him like fire through dry kindling. How could his father not see it? He was the true son. The legacy of both Bat and Demon ran through his blood.

But here, in this foreign house built on sentiment and ideals, that blood meant nothing.

His hours of grueling training, his flawless blade work, his mastery of languages, poisons, shadows, everything none of it mattered. In the League, every achievement was tallied like gold, every drop of noble blood a weapon to be honored and sharpened. In Gotham, he was just a child with a name. No better than the orphans his father had chosen. He was expected to earn his place not through heritage, but through heart.

And that was a battlefield Damian had never been taught to fight on.

…..

By fourteen, Damian had changed. The transformation had not come swiftly, nor easily. It had been carved into him over years of clashing ideologies, quiet lessons, and countless moments of silent observation. The boy who once barked orders, who demanded the world bend to his will, had been slowly, methodically unraveled.

Gone was the child who screamed, "Mine!" at every turn. In his place stood a young warrior with weary eyes and calloused hands, one who had tasted loss, rejection, and the sting of unearned entitlement.

He had learned, through long nights spent watching others from the shadows of Wayne Manor’s hallways, that love was not given by birthright but earned through sacrifice. He had watched Dick steady the weight of leadership with a smile, watched Tim endure with patience and quiet brilliance, watched Jason bleed and rage and come back again and again for the family that had once failed him. And he had watched Bruce—not the detective that his grandfather would say nor the beloved that his mother would whisper of bedtime legends, but a flawed, weary man who carried his family not with a sword but with open hands.

The League had taught him to take. His siblings had taught him to stay.

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” He had not heard the phrase spoken aloud, but he lived it in the moments that unfolded around him. He saw it in the way Alfred laid out tea for children who weren’t his. In the way Cass would wordlessly spar with him until exhaustion broke his fury. In the way Stephanie left notes on the fridge with dumb jokes just to make them laugh. These people—none of whom shared his blood—had chosen each other again and again.

And yet… in the quiet corners of his mind, sometimes, he still wished Danyal were here.

Danyal, who would have thrived in this strange and stubborn family. Danyal, whose softness would have been a strength here, not a flaw. Danyal, who had always looked at Damian not with envy or resentment, but with quiet love.

Damian had spent so long dismissing that gentleness as weakness, never realizing it had been a gift. Looking back now, he could see the missed moments—the times he could have shared instead of stolen, the times he could have listened instead of taken. His brother had not been lesser. He had simply been different. And Damian, in his arrogance, had mistaken compassion for cowardice.

Now, with Danyal long buried and the world colder for it, Damian carried the weight of that realization like a blade across the ribs—never fatal, but never forgotten.

…...

Then came the mission with the Flash. A time anomaly had rippled through the fabric of reality. Barry had worked tirelessly to fix the damage, racing through different timelines  until order was restored. But this time, though fixed, have a new aftermath. A vision stitched together from remnants of a path not taken.

The Justice League, ever analytical, treated it like a curious glitch in the multiversal code—a harmless projection of a possibility that never came to pass. They gathered to observe it as they would a peculiar ripple in a still pond, detached but intrigued. Damian had been pulled along by Jon, who bounced with his usual boundless energy, unaware of what the vision would show. Damian followed, armored in detachment, a practiced indifference in place.

But then he saw it.

The flickering image glowed before him like a memory he had never lived. There, seated around the long dining table in Wayne Manor, was a scene so mundane, so heartbreakingly normal, it rooted him in place. His father sat at the head of the table, a rare softness in his posture as he poured tea. Nightwing laughed mid-conversation, shoulders relaxed, while Tim rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Jason leaned back with his feet on the table, earning a nudge from Cassandra. And at the center of it all, smiling as if he'd always belonged—was Danyal.

His twin. Whole. Alive.

Danyal passed the bread basket to Tim with a crooked grin, said something that made Alfred chuckle. He nudged Damian's double with his elbow, teasing him, effortlessly folded into the rhythm of a family Damian had once believed unreachable. It was a life that had never happened, a universe where Danyal had lived—not just lived, but thrived.

Damian’s breath caught in his throat. His chest rose and fell once, twice, the motion sharp and sudden. His fingers, usually so still, twitched at his sides, as if the rest of him hadn’t caught up with the emotion rising within. Before he could wrest control back from his heart, his hand extended—reaching, aching, needing.

And the word tore from him before thought could stop it.

"Mine."

It escaped in a whisper but echoed like a roar in his ears. Not the scream of a spoiled prince demanding treasure, but the broken, silent cry of a boy mourning what he had never known he needed. It was not greed that moved him, not anymore. It was grief. Regret. A raw, unfiltered longing for the life that had slipped through his fingers before he had ever realized he wanted it.

Around him, the room shifted. Justice League members who moments ago stood in detached curiosity now exchanged curious glances, as they saw the projection and Robin’s reaction to a projection that is just showing a what-if scenario.

The projection flickered. Danyal’s laughter shimmered and dissolved into static. The dining table faded. The light dimmed.

And Damian remained frozen, hand still half-raised, reaching for a future that was never his to claim.

…..

In the heart of the Infinite Realms, where time unraveled and rewound in endless loops and rivers of light, a lone figure hovered silently above the drifting threads of fate. Clockwork, the Master of Time, ancient and eternal, gazed down upon the scene unfolding within the mortal world. His staff gleamed as it gears ever turning, ticking in rhythm with realities both seen and unseen.

His eyes that is both ageless and all-knowing, rested on the image of a boy no longer a child. Damian Al Ghul Wayne stood still before the dying glow of a vanished vision, his heart laid bare. Once a prince of shadows, molded by assassins and pride, Damian now stood not as a conqueror, but as a brothe still grieving. He no longer sought to possess or dominate, but to reclaim something that had always been just out of reach: family.

The Observers had spoken long ago, their verdicts cold and absolute. Danyal’s future, they had said, was a path carved in steel and soaked in blood. The catalyst of the Infinite Realms, the one who will bring the end. But Clockwork had always known better. Time, after all, was not a straight line, it branched, curved, rebelled. And in one of those near-forgotten offshoots, he had seen a flicker. A possibility so faint it could have been dismissed as error. But Clockwork did not dismiss.

He had seen a future in which the Infinite Realms chaotic would finally know peace. He had seen a king . And that king—against all odds—had come in the form of Danyal Al Ghul Wayne.

A soft, amused breath escaped the Master of Time as his gaze shifted across the layers of existence to a shadow nestled within the Realms themselves. There, hidden among the currents of ectoplasm and fractured echoes of forgotten souls, stood a young ghost. His white hair drifted like mist in the realm’s gentle current, his glowing green eyes solemn yet radiant. Gone were the dark locks, icey blue eyes and quiet smiles of Danyal Al Ghul. In his place stood Daniel Fenton—Danny Phantom—the Halfa. Half-human, half-ghost. A being unlike any other. A bridge between life and death.

Clockwork observed him with fondness, a rare warmth in his otherwise distant demeanor. He remembered the moment clearly, the crack between timelines where fate had faltered just long enough for intervention. The Observers had turned away, believing that Clockwork will carry out their verdict to execute the young boy, but Clockwork had seen the glimmer of what could be. He had rescued the boy from his grave and scattered his memories.

He had delivered the amnesiac child to a quiet home in Amity Park, into the waiting arms of the unsuspecting Fenton couple—eccentric, brilliant, and just compassionate enough to raise him without ever questioning the mystery of his arrival. The boy was given a name, a room, a place to grow. And on that fateful day, when Danny stepped into the portal and his molecules split between two worlds, Clockwork had watched it happen with a quiet, satisfied nod. That had been the moment. The transformation. The birth of a future king.

The Infinite Realms would have their High King.

And now, as the Realms shimmered in resonance with Damian’s grief, and Danny’s own presence and ignorance hummed at the edge of understanding, Clockwork let the corners of his lips curl just slightly.

He had never told the Observers about this faint possible of a timeline. The one he saw only once, a future so far removed it flickered like starlight on the edge of perception. This timeline where, both the Realms have their king but he will have a granchild.

Clockwork kept that knowledge close. Even for a being beyond time, some secrets were too precious to share.

As he look at the grieving Damian telling his family a future could have been and Danny enjoying his somewhat normal routine for a young Halfa like him not knowing the immediate danger that is quickly closing in on him.

Clockwork smiled, All in due time.

…...

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: Again it got too long for my liking....

PPS: I got a bit carried away, hehehehehe.....

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, mech!ghost x pilot!reader, scifi, noncon/dubcon elements, guided masturbation, temperature play, voyeurism - 1.6K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Another long night in the cockpit.

You could only grin and bear it at this point. Reaching compatibility with your assigned vessel was slowly eating away at your psyche- and worst of all, you couldn’t even leave; not when your prospected affinity levels with the infamous machine had been deemed unprecedented, and certainly not when you knew what happened to deserters.

Conscription was non-negotiable these days; the large colony you had grown up in now ravaged by some otherworldly force and desperately bleeding out resources in response, be it weaponry, rations, or bodies.

The faction had been gifted the GH-05t Mech as an act of goodwill, but ask any official and you’d be informed that the powerful, unused machine would serve better as scrap parts- the real kicker being that they were no longer equipped with the resources or the manpower to dismantle the damned thing. 

GH-05t was a battle vessel; had been lauded as a ground-breaker and a boundary-pusher with the integration of an intelligent battle protocol system, all trained posthumously off the stored memories of some long-dead pilot, surely without his consent- Simon, they had named it in an attempt to make it more user friendly and assistant-like in nature.

Hubris. The system failed to run, turning the fully-functional mech into a glorified mountainous paperweight due to all of the instrumental functions being locked behind unresponsive intelligence. You speculated that the machine had passed hands to save face- to keep the public hopeful despite the system refusing to wake up.

-Wake up. You groaned, slapping lightly at your face.

You hated it here, longing for lazy days on the bleak outer walls, surrounded by the buzz of cicadas and rustling long grass as you waited for your father to get back from the drillsite. Your parents had been so proud when officials showed up at your dilapidated front porch, neat suits, shining eyes, and big smiles blissfully ignoring the very same surroundings they had left to rot;  all while you reeled internally- shaken by the worst news you had received in your life. It was a death sentence. 

It had been years since that day, and you were absolutely sure you had only been given a position like this because of some made-up numbers all while they tried to remind you that you were special, somehow different from your peers.

All damned to the same fate in your eyes.

“-load of shit.” you hissed, rubbing at the uncomfortable neuro-valve hooked into the back of your flight suit. Frustrated, you kicked at the mechanical console snug against your leg, the low rumbling whirr of the machine staying the same in response- apathetic to your misdirected rage. 

A moment passed before you finally leaned back in your seat with a grimace.

You still weren’t used to the flight suits in the mech pilot regs. You almost missed the starchy cargo pants that were worn throughout training- both had been unbearably stiff, but at least the latter hadn’t been so form-fitting.It always freaked you out a bit; the pilot suits were more akin to sleek exodermis, responsive and shock absorbent- It felt wrong to have something so foreign covering your entire body; unnatural. 

Your hips squirmed in the seat, friction suddenly becoming apparent the more you thought about it. The low tone of your monitored vitals raised gradually with the fuzzy heat beginning to shamefully pool in your gut; making you all too glad these late night bonding-sessions were done in an all but abandoned mech bay- your observed progress dwindling along with your prospects as time went on without result. 

Grinding into the seat, you swallowed back the thick saliva coating your mouth, teeth catching on your dry bottom lip as you held back a low, audible shudder; eyes fluttering shut. 

The bulky panel separating your legs became all too appealing as you acknowledged the press of it at your sealed cunt, nudging your apex into the blunt peak while your gloved hands curled around the padding of the built-in armrests.

Then, there was a pulse at your core. 

Eyes snapping open, you became all too aware that the sensation hadn’t come from your body. Straightening up in your seat you were met with a dull blinking text on the panel that had never been there before- 

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: LOADING’

You were rooted in place as you witnessed the glowing, digital bar slowly fill.

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: ONLINE’

You scrambled to pull at the neuro-valve connecting your suit to the mech, only for the small port’s flight locks to engage; a stark hiss emitting from the cockpit door’s airlock.

“Disengage locks.” you commanded, completely lost on what was happening. 

There was a low, fractured robotic groan directly in your comms “-Fuck…” the voice was deep, aggressively masculine and breathy in your ear- the sound holding more human emotion than you were prepared to rationalize. “Where am I?”

“-Disengage locks.” you repeated firmly. 

“The fuck is this?” he snarled, apparently coming to as he barked out questions, disoriented. “-Who are you- why are you in m’head- Fuck, why can’t I see?” 

Your suit was flexing and constricting, going haywire in the confusion. “C-calm down!” you stuttered, a pendulum in your head swinging between gripping dread and the low, heady heat of unmet needs. “Just-Just let me see if I can fix this.” 

Panting shakily, you swiped at the flight panel’s screen- spotting something containing the words ‘optical’ and ‘sensors’, you tapped frantically.

There was an audible wince deep in your ear, then a growling hum met with silence.

“M'dead, aren’t I?”

“-You’re a memory bank- not a person.” you asserted, clarification necessary when it came to a massive mobile death machine. ”C-Can you lay off the suit, please?”

A pulsing wave passed the length of your suit as he listened to your embarrassed response over the comms, the sound of his voice bouncing around in your head. “Fuck, bet tha’ feels nice, yeah?”

A whine bubbled at your lips before you could stop it. “I- You’re not l-listening, Simon.” 

There was a long silence following your plea- air electric and tense.

“Tha’ name- How do you know it?”

“N-not the point!” you argued, only to be met with a full body squeeze- a threat. “-It’s the name of the o-operating system! P-please!”

He relented, your chest heaving as your muscles released tension.

“Well, if you an'I are so close...”

The screen flashed with a notice. 

‘[Main Cockpit Camera Feed - Status: Active]’

Followed by another

‘[Manual Override - Feed Transmission Blocked]’

“-Keep things between us, yeah?” 

Your head swivelled around to look for a camera, landing on a lackadaisical red blink coming from right above the reinforced windshield.

“You're a sight, aren’t you?" listening closely, you could hear the audible scroll of the lens focusing.

You frowned. “Let me out-”

You gasped as a cold heat focused at your core, reminding you that your suit’s temperature regulating measures were completely under his control. “-No need for fuss, we were just getting t’know each other.”

“Th…” you paused, panting softly. “-This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s not to get, Love?” there was a pause as your seat adjusted forward, bumping your cunt into the console. “Give us a show, yeah?”

You whimpered in response, pressure unbearable.

“Look at you.” he snarled, the deep sound goading your rocking hips onward. “Fuck- Wish I could taste you…”

There was a small noise from the screen that had your heavy lids pulling upwards- database bringing up the low-res file of a soldier. 

“-Look at the man doing this to you, love.” 

Your lips parted, eyebrows drawing downwards in confusion as you looked at the attached image; a masked man with voids for pupils staring back at you.

“Y-You’re not-” you gasped as a concentrated cold rushed your breast, nipples pearling up uncomfortably at the sensation- the friction of your undergarments and the newly dropping temperatures sending your head soaring as your hips worked at grinding into the blunt metal. ”-not r-real.”

“-I am.” His voice was a sharp, humorous growl that threatened you to challenge his word, followed by a single deep laugh. “Eyes up- on me, love.”

Your head bobbed as you glanced lazily at the file, unable to make any sense of the written data- not that it mattered anyway.

“Think you can finish for me?”

The suit pulsed rhythmically as you practically humped your seat with eyes screwed shut, the humiliation of your current position itching at something unfamiliar deep in your abdomen. With flushed cheeks, you chased the bubbling pot that made a home in your gut; willing it to boil over.

 “Look at me.” he ordered. “Need y'to look at me.” 

Glancing at the screen in a haze, the exomuscles of your suit flexed in response.

“No- Up.”

your head shot towards the camera, holding contact with the whirring lens as the overstimulation finally became too much- pussy fluttering in euphoria with elbows bracing you, hips pathetically grinding out the high. 

Struggling to catch your breath, you slumped back into the chair- gears adjusting your seat back into a comfortable position.

“Good.” the voice in your ear barked, before lowering incrementally. “-Good…”

The screen lit up with a notice that compatibility requirements had been met- although it didn't mean much to you in your state; chest heaving slowly while you tried to make sense of what happened. 

“Gonna’ let you out- but this has got to stay our secret, yeah?” 

You swallowed, eyelids tugging open as your suit tensed in warning.

“How copy?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good,” he paused. “-don't need anyone but you poking around up here.”

[pascalispimp]

Damp, Dirty, His

Summary: Joel’s been through a lot, but mysteriously damp flannels? That’s a new one. When he sneaks home to investigate, but what he finds is far filthier than he imagined. His housemate’s got a thing for his shirts… and from the way she’s moaning into one, she’s got a thing for him too. And Joel’s got every intention of making it worse.

Warnings: 18+ afab and fem reader, p in v sex, alludes to curvy reader, unspecified age gap, no description of reader but has big boobs and ass, some dubcon but she’s into it, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex, oral (m! receiving), fingering, finger sucking, creampie, degradation, praise kink, ass play

Word count: 4.3k

Joel Miller wasn’t a man who jumped to conclusions. He was a man of patience, of careful observation. Years of surviving had drilled that into him. But something wasn’t sitting right.

For the past few weeks, his flannels had been turning up… different. Damp in places they shouldn’t be. Not rain-soaked, not sweat-stained—just wet. He’d pick one up from where he left it, and the fabric would cling to his fingers, the scent of something faint but unmistakable lingering in the fibers. Something warm. Something intimate.

At first, he thought maybe the laundry had been left out too long. Maybe it was just one of those things. But it kept happening. And every time, it was one of his favorites. The ones he wore most. The ones she seemed to watch him in. His housemate.

She wasn’t careless. Wasn’t the type to spill something and not say a word. But Joel had noticed the way she lingered when he pulled on one of those flannels, how her gaze dragged over him, how she hesitated just a little too long when handing one back. He already had a feeling. And today, he was going to confirm it.

So instead of heading out on patrol like he was supposed to, Joel doubled back, moving quiet, careful. The snow crunched beneath his boots, but he knew the sounds of Jackson well enough to weave between them, to slip into his own home without so much as a whisper.

The house was still. The kind of stillness that came with someone who thought they were alone. He gently turned the knob and pushed the door open, the hinges whispering a soft protest. The warmth of the house enveloped him like a lover's embrace. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and his gaze fell upon a sight that made his blood boil with desire and possessiveness.

And the moment he heard it—soft, breathy, a sound that hit him low in his stomach—he knew.

Her.

His flannel—his—draped over her frame, too big, the sleeves bunched around her wrists, the hem riding up as she moved. She was bent over the kitchen table, the flannel riding up to expose her round, bare ass. The shirt was too large for her, but it clung to her in all the right places, revealing her voluptuous figure, hips rolling into her own hand, her face turned into his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to this moment.

And Christ, if that wasn’t a sight that damn near knocked the air from his lungs.

Joel exhaled through his nose, slow and deep. He should leave. Should turn around, pretend he hadn’t seen a damn thing.

But instead, he stepped closer, the floorboards groaning a little under his heavy boots. She gasped, spinning around with a start, her cheeks flushing a deep red. The flannel was open, and she had been using his shirt to muffle her moans. The sight of her, so vulnerable and caught in the act, only served to fuel his desire. He set the rifle against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers, and strode purposefully across the room.

"That why my flannels keep turnin’ up damp, darlin’?"

"Joel," she stuttered, her voice a mix of shock and arousal. "I-I can explain."

He didn't wait for her excuses. The sight of her flustered and exposed only added to the power he felt surging through him. "I don't want explanations," he said gruffly, his voice a low rumble. "I want to know why you're using my things for... that."

Her eyes widened, the pupils dilating as she took in the look on his face. It was a mix of anger and something else, something darker and more primal. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles flexed under his shirt. Joel was never one to mince words, and his directness only served to turn her on even more.

"I-I just..." she stuttered again, trying to find the words, but they were lost in the thick haze of lust that had settled over the room. The flannel fell open further, revealing her naked chest, her nipples hard with arousal. She reached for it instinctively, but Joel's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and stopping her.

"You like wearing my shirts, huh?" he said, his voice thick with a challenge. "Let's see how you like the real thing."

With that, Joel closed the distance between them, pulling the flannel from her body. She didn't resist, instead letting out a shaky breath as his calloused hands grazed her bare skin. He tossed the fabric aside, his gaze raking over her nakedness. The sight of her made him want to conquer and claim, to show her who was in charge here.

He grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her closer until their lips almost touched. "You're playing with fire, darling," he murmured, his voice a warning and a promise. He felt her pulse racing under his fingers, her body trembling with anticipation.

Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, but Joel knew he'd already won. She was his for the taking, and she knew it. With a smirk that barely touched his lips, he claimed her mouth with a bruising kiss. His tongue pushed past her teeth, tasting the sweetness of her mouth as his hands roamed over her curves, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She moaned into the kiss, her body melting into his, and he knew he had her.

Breaking away, Joel stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. "On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and demanding. She obeyed without hesitation, the submissive side of her bubbling to the surface, eager to please the dominant man before her. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His erection sprang free, thick and proud, pointing straight at her plump, parted lips.

"Open," he said, and she did, her eyes never leaving his. He took a fistful of her hair, guiding his length into her mouth. She gagged slightly, but took him deeper, her eyes watering with the effort. Joel's hand tightened in her hair, controlling her movements as he began to fuck her face. He watched with a mix of pleasure and possession as she struggled to keep up with his rhythm, her cheeks hollowing with each thrust.

He could feel her submission, the way she eagerly took him in, and it only made him harder. "You like that?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. She nodded, unable to speak around his cock, and he chuckled darkly. "Good girl." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, the gesture oddly tender amidst the aggression.

Joel pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock glistening with her saliva. "You've been a bad girl, using my things," he said, his voice a teasing purr. "But I'm going to show you how to use them properly." He stepped back, grabbing a chair from the nearby table and spinning it around. He sat down, his erection still standing proud, and gestured for her to straddle him.

With trembling legs, she obeyed, her pussy wet and aching as she settled over his lap. He reached between them, stroking her clit with a rough thumb before plunging two fingers into her heat. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pump them in and out, his eyes never leaving hers. The way he touched her, so rough and yet so precise, made her feel alive, like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff and only he could save her from the fall.

"Beg for it," he demanded, his voice a dark whisper that sent shivers down her spine. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to give in, but the pleasure was too much. "Please, Joel," she whimpered, her voice barely a breath. "Fuck me."

The words hung in the air, heavy with need, and Joel's control snapped like a twig under a boot. He yanked her onto his lap, the chair groaning under their combined weight. He positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance, feeling her wetness and heat against his skin. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her, making her cry out.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body tightening around him like a vice. Joel's eyes rolled back in his head as he savored the sensation of her warmth. He began to move, his hips rocking into hers, each thrust punctuated by a guttural grunt. She met him stroke for stroke, her breasts bouncing with the rhythm, the friction sending waves of pleasure crashing through her body.

He leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he whispered filthy words, degrading her in the most delicious way. "That's it, take it," he growled, his breath hot against her skin. "You're such a slut for me, aren't you?" She whimpered, her body responding to his words, her walls clenching around him. He liked it when she played the brat, but now she was all his, all submission.

He could feel her climbing closer to the edge, her breaths coming in ragged pants. He reached up, grabbing one of her breasts, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The pinch sent a bolt of pleasure through her, making her moan around his cock. He smirked, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

Joel's other hand slid down to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze before his fingers delved between her cheeks. She gasped as he found her tight hole, teasing it with a single digit. "You're mine," he murmured, pushing into her untouched entrance. "All of you."

The sudden intrusion made her jolt, her eyes flying open. But instead of pulling away, she pushed back into his hand, eager for more. He chuckled darkly, his grip on her hip tightening as he began to fuck her with his finger, the dual sensation making her pussy clench around his cock. "So greedy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're going to take everything I give you, aren't you?"

Her only response was a muffled moan, her voice lost in the fabric of his shirt. Joel could feel her orgasm building, her walls fluttering around him like a caged bird desperate to fly. He leaned back, watching her face contort with pleasure, his own climax approaching like a storm on the horizon. His strokes grew faster, his hips snapping into her with a ferocity that left them both gasping for air.

He withdrew his finger from her ass, reaching around to pinch her clit as he fucked her harder. She bucked wildly, her nails raking down his back as the first wave of her climax washed over her. He felt her pussy clench, her juices flooding his cock as she screamed into the fabric of his shirt. The sound sent him over the edge, and with a roar, he emptied himself inside her, filling her to the brim.

Her orgasm was a symphony of sounds, her moans and gasps echoing through the small house. Joel held her hips firmly, ensuring she took every last inch of his release. He watched as she rode the peak of pleasure, her body shaking with the intensity of it all. When she finally collapsed against him, panting and sated, he couldn't help but feel a smug sense of satisfaction.

He kissed her neck, his breath warm and ragged against her skin. "You're mine now," he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness. "And you're going to wear my cum as a reminder." He felt her shiver in his arms, the dirty talk only serving to excite her further.

Joel's thumb continued to circle her clit lazily, keeping her on the edge. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "You liked being caught, didn't you?" She nodded, unable to form words, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure.

He pulled out of her with a wet sound, the head of his cock glistening with their combined juices. He stood, lifting her off his lap, and spun her around to face the kitchen counter. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice still commanding. She complied, her knees wobbly from the intense orgasm.

The cool countertop sent a shiver up her spine, and she gripped the edge, her knuckles white with the effort. Joel stepped behind her, his eyes feasting on her reddened, swollen pussy. He grabbed her hips, positioning himself again. With one swift movement, he plunged back into her, making her gasp. He was still hard, still insatiable. He began to fuck her from behind, his thrusts deep and powerful, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room.

Her breasts bounced with each impact, the painful pleasure sending her spiraling back towards the edge. She could feel his grip tighten, his hands leaving bruises on her hips, and she loved it. He was claiming her, marking her as his own, and she reveled in the feeling of submission. She pushed back into him, taking him deeper, her walls clenching around his length.

"You want more?" he growled, his hand reaching around to pinch her clit again. She moaned, the sensation too much, too intense. He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing her ear. "That's my girl." He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into her, the suddenness of it making her cry out.

The kitchen counter was slick with their sweat and desire, their bodies moving in a dance of passion and dominance. Joel's hand reached up, wrapping around her neck, his thumb pressing lightly against her throat. The subtle hint of control sent a thrill through her, making her pussy clench around him. She pushed back, eager for the pain, for the feeling of him owning her completely.

He groaned, his hips pistoning into her with renewed vigor. The angle was perfect, hitting her g-spot with every thrust. She could feel another orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces. "Beg for it," he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "Tell me you want it, tell me you need it."

Her voice was a desperate whine as she pleaded, "Please, Joel, please let me cum again." He tightened his grip, his thumb pressing slightly harder on her clit. "Not until I say so," he said, his voice a dark command. She whimpered, her body writhing under his control. He knew exactly how to play her, how to tease and taunt until she was begging for release.

He slowed his pace, drawing out each thrust, savoring the feel of her tightness around him. The anticipation was intoxicating, a sweet torment that made his balls ache with need. He watched in the flickering candlelight as her ass cheeks clenched with each movement, her pussy gripping his cock like a vice. The room was a cacophony of their harsh breaths and the wet sounds of their bodies colliding.

"Please," she moaned, her voice desperate. "I need it."

Joel's hand slid from her throat to her clit, his thumb circling it with the perfect amount of pressure. "You're going to come for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "But not yet." He watched her body tense, her muscles tightening around him, desperate for release. The power was intoxicating, the way she trembled under his touch.

He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back. "You're going to take it all," he breathed into her ear, his voice a seductive growl. "Every inch of me, until I say you can come." She whimpered, her head dropping forward as she tried to push back against him, her hips moving in a silent plea for more.

The room was a blur of sensation, the smell of sex and sweat mixing with the faint scent of burning wood from the fireplace. The candles cast shadows across their bodies, flickering with each thrust. Joel's hand slid down to her ass, his fingers tracing the line between her cheeks before pushing into her again. The feeling of fullness was almost too much, but she craved it, her body begging for the painful pleasure that only he could provide.

"You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice strained with his own climax approaching. "I'm going to fill you up until you can't take anymore."

Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she felt his thumb push past the tight ring of muscle, invading her ass. The pain was sharp, but it only served to heighten the pleasure. She was lost in a whirlwind of sensations, her body no longer her own as he controlled her every movement. Joel's other hand wrapped around her hip, guiding her to move back onto him, her pussy clenching around his shaft as he pushed deeper into her.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice harsh. She opened her eyes, her vision swimming with lust. Their gazes locked, the intensity of his stare piercing through the fog of pleasure. "You're going to come for me," he said, his thumb moving in time with his cock, pushing her closer and closer to the precipice. "Now."

Her body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She screamed his name, her nails digging into the wood as she came apart in his arms. Joel's own climax followed swiftly, his cock pulsing inside her as he filled her up with his seed. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself completely.

For a moment, they remained like that, panting and spent. Then Joel pulled out, his cock slipping from her with a wet sound that made her shiver. He stepped back, watching her with hooded eyes as she slowly straightened, her legs shaking. He reached out, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his hand.

"You're mine now," he said, his voice low and possessive. "Every inch of you." She nodded, her cheeks still flushed, her breaths coming in shallow pants. "Say it," he demanded. "Tell me you're mine."

Her eyes searched his, a mix of shock and awe at the intensity of what had just transpired. "I'm... I'm yours," she finally managed to whisper, the words thick with desire. He leaned in, his mouth claiming hers in a brutal kiss, his tongue demanding entry. She melted into him, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax.

Breaking the kiss, Joel grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "And don't you ever forget it," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "You wear my shirts, you take my cum. You're going to be walking around with a constant reminder of who's in charge." He smirked, watching the way her pupils dilated at his words.

Withdrawing his cock from her, Joel reached down, his thumb sliding through their mixed juices, and then back to her pussy. He pushed two fingers inside her, her walls still spasming from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She whimpered, the sensation overwhelmingly intense. He curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made her knees buckle, and began to pump his cum back into her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body jolting with each thrust of his digits.

"Look at me," he ordered again, his voice a gravelly whisper. She forced her eyes open, meeting his fiery gaze. "You're going to wear this," he said, pulling his fingers out and holding them up, glistening with their combined release. "Every drop." He brought his hand to her mouth, and she obeyed without question, licking and sucking her taste from his skin. He watched with a dark satisfaction as she swallowed, her eyes never leaving his.

With a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, Joel leaned in, his breath hot against her cheek. "Now, tell me how much you liked being caught," he said, his voice a sinful purr. She blushed, but the brat in her couldn't resist a little sass. "I liked it," she admitted, her voice a mix of defiance and arousal. "But maybe next time, you could be a bit more... creative with your punishments."

Joel's eyebrow shot up, and he stepped back, his cock still semi-hard and glistening. "Is that a challenge, darling?" He grabbed the flannel she'd been wearing earlier, now discarded on the floor, and wrapped it around her trembling body. "Because I've got plenty of creative ways to keep you in line."

Her heart skipped a beat at the promise in his words. "Maybe," she replied with a smirk, her voice still breathless from her recent climax. "But I'm not promising to be good."

Joel chuckled darkly. "That's what makes it fun," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. He pulled her closer, his cock brushing against her stomach. She could feel it thickening again, a testament to his insatiable desire. "But for now," he murmured, "we should clean up before I have to be back out on patrol."

The water was cold when Joel turned on the faucet, but it did nothing to cool the heat that still lingered between them. He grabbed a cloth, soaking it before gently cleaning her up. The tender act was a stark contrast to the raw passion they'd just shared, and she found herself leaning into his touch, craving the comfort he offered. When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed, his eyes raking over her naked body. He was still dressed, a stark reminder of the power dynamic they'd just established. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. She couldn't help but giggle, the sound light and airy in the tension-filled room.

The bed dipped as he climbed onto it, his weight pressing down on the mattress. He hovered over her, his hand sliding up her thigh, his thumb brushing against her still-sensitive clit. She gasped, her body reacting instantly. He chuckled, the sound dark and seductive. "I can see you're eager for more," he said, his voice a tease.

He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was both punishing and gentle. His tongue danced with hers, tasting the lingering flavor of their passion. When he pulled away, she was left panting, her eyes glazed with lust. "But I've got patrol," he murmured against her skin, his lips moving to her neck. He bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make her moan. "You're going to have to wait for it."

Her hands found his shoulders, her nails digging in as she tried to pull him closer. "Please, Joel," she begged, her voice needy and desperate. He chuckled, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "You're insatiable." He kissed her again, his hand sliding down to cup her breast, his thumb teasing the nipple until it was a hard peak. "But I like that about you."

With a final groan of protest, Joel rolled off the bed, his cock still semi-erect. "I'll be back," he said, his voice a promise. "And when I do, you'd better be ready for me." He strode to the bathroom, the muscles in his back flexing with each step. She watched him go, her body still trembling from the aftermath of their encounter.

The cold water from the sink brought Joel back to reality, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of his desire. He washed his hands, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He couldn't believe he'd just taken her like that, in the kitchen of all places. But the sight of her in his flannel, her face flushed with arousal, had driven him over the edge.

Wiping his hands on the towel, he returned to the bedroom, his eyes devouring her again. She lay there, a mess of tangled limbs and desire, the flannel barely covering her curves. He couldn't resist leaning down to kiss her, his hand caressing her cheek. "I'll be back soon," he whispered, his voice hoarse. She nodded, her eyes still glazed with passion.

Joel pulled on his patrol gear, his mind racing with thoughts of her. The way she'd looked at him, the way she'd taken him, it was all he could think about. He had to get out there, had to focus on the job at hand, but she was a siren's call he couldn't ignore.

He stepped out into the cold night, the chill air slapping him in the face, a stark contrast to the heat they'd generated in the kitchen. The patrol was quiet, his mind wandering back to her, to the way her body had responded to his every touch. He found himself smiling, a rare occurrence in this post-apocalyptic world.

Hours ticked by, the moon casting eerie shadows across the deserted town. Joel's thoughts remained fixated on her, his cock twitching at the memory of her moans and whimpers. He'd never felt such a potent mix of lust and tenderness before, and it unnerved him.

When Joel finally returned home, the house was quiet, the only sound the crackling of the dying embers in the fireplace. He shed his gear, stripping down to nothing but his skin, his cock already hard with anticipation. As he padded silently towards the bedroom, his eyes fell on her, sprawled out on the bed, her chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, but Joel knew the fire that burned within her, the desire that she kept hidden.

With a smirk playing on his lips, he stepped into the room, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open to find him standing over her, naked and gleaming with sweat. He leaned down, his hand trailing up her thigh, his breath hot against her ear. "Are you ready for more, darlin'?" he whispered, his voice a dark promise.

[chaoticwriting]

THE FATHER

A tall man is walking down a hallway, slowly turning on the lights as he knocks on the door to the rooms along the hallway. Rustles can be heard from each room as Danny moves from room to room. After all rooms have been knocked on, Danny goes down the stairs and goes to the dining room.

He sees the Lunch Lady moving out a whole stack of plates, arranging them on the tables. Danny offers to help but Lunch Lady refuses his offer and he just nods and gives a smile. He sits at the head table as he watches food being placed one by one by her. Soon, children enter the dining room and take their seats waiting until all of the seats is filled.

Children: Thank you for the food!

All the children eat happily while chatting with each other. Danny also eats his food as he is reminiscing about his childhood.

When all the kids finished their food, a woman with green hair enters the room holding a purse.

Kitty: Alright kids, time to go to school. Uncle Johnny is already waiting outside.

The kids reply with yes and cheers as they quickly wash their hands. All of them take their lunch boxes from the top counter and give Danny a hug.

Children: Bye, dad.

Danny: Goodbye, kids. Behaved well at schools and remember to call for me if any of you need help.

Children: Yeeess!

As they reply, Kitty rushes them off outside as they are a little late for school. Danny sends a few blob ghosts after them in case Kitty and Johnny need help sending or watching the kids. After all they are only 2 people compared to the 2 dozen kids they're sending to schools.

Danny goes to his study as Wulf opens a portal and places his paperwork on his table. Danny gives a silent thank you as he busy himself while waiting for the kids to come home.

-6 months ago-

Danny arrives in Gotham after he makes the decision to stay here. After Vlad is healed from his mania courtesy of Jazz and Frostbite, he falls into minor depression at the thought of almost killing his best friend and making his godson go through all those horrible experiences. As a form of repentance, he gives Danny his company as he fully dedicated himself to improving Amity Park and serving the people. He also helps to lobby against the anti ecto act with his few connections. Add in the testimony from Maddie and Jack, the leading scientists in the ectoplasm field.

The act is immediately removed after it is made public and the US government receives a major blow from the feedback. All the personnel that are related to GIW are also captured under the order of the United Nation and the Justice League.

Danny also puts down his mantle as Phantom after the act is removed because by that point, team Phantom can even deal with an Ancient by how liminal some of them are. They are so liminal that they are almost a halfa by this point. They also gained their own powers recently like Sam has Phytokinesis and healing power, Tucker gains Technomancy and Psammokinesis, Val has superhuman physique and can fly and Jazz is now a very powerful psychic. Their combined efforts easily fend off Vortex and Overgrowth last time. Add in that Vlad also helps sometimes, Amity Park is pretty much safe.

So Danny after getting nagged persuaded by Jazz about going to college, decides to further his study into engineering at Gotham. Why? Because not only does Gotham have a high concentration of ectoplasm in their air (not as high as Amity but pretty high compared to any other places except Bludhaven), but it is also because he gained a scholarship there.

Vladco also getting changed in leadership with Danny being the new CEO, giving Tucker and Sam their own position and many top positions to people he knows. Why would he do that someone might ask? Because it is easier to do his work and also college at the same time with his power. Such as learning how to clone himself courtesy of Vlad and opening portal with Wulf's help.

There are also other heroes in the area so he doesn't need to worry about protecting the people in Gotham. Except that's not what happened.

When Danny first arrived at one of the mansions Vlad had bought in Gotham, the place was practically empty. It was cleaned and neat and all but no one was in there. After moving everything in, Danny decides to take a walk outside to take a view of his surroundings.

When Danny arrived at the less unfortunate parts of Gotham, he saw a lot of homeless kids running around. Kids, not teenagers. Danny in his goodwill and screaming core offers the kids to give them shelter. Maybe it is because kids are more sensitive to supernatural elements but it almost seems like they understand him conveying his emotions.

The kids decided to trust him and follow him home and Danny called in Lunch Lady to prepare a meal for them. Lunch Lady, the ever amazing cook, made some fabulous meals for all the kids including Danny as they ate happily.

Danny can see the distrust in their eyes so he didn't insist on them staying until the next morning. He even left the doors and windows unlocked just in case any of them wished to leave early.

He was pleasantly surprised when he saw all the kids in their shared room by morning. He offered to take them in and although the kids were very wary of him, they decided to give him some trust.

And after that, it is pretty much smooth sailing. One after another more and more kids enter the mansion. It's not that Danny goes out to pick them, it is the kids that go out of their way to invite other kids when given permission by Danny.

As for money, it is pretty easy to convert all the items that he stole got from Pariah Dark's haunt. With his multi billion company, he has a lot of power in his hand. Both figuratively and literally. He also sets up a legal foster care center so that he can take in kids easier and get funds legally.

Overall, there are 2 dozen kids that are registered residents of his mansion while there are around 100 more that are not registered either because they technically already have a guardian/parents or they wish to remain unrecorded for some reason.

Unknown to Danny, his reputation has been rising frighteningly fast these past few months. From his kind persona, his amazingly genius intellect and all his charity all the way to how good looking he is, it makes the public go wild on him.

Of course there are some haters that will try to bring down his efforts but those voices are often drowned by thousands of other voices who uplift him.

Of course that is mainly because all of his interactions with people so far have been positive interactions.

That is until the incident happens

-Present Time-

Danny is finishing his homework today as the kids decide to do a little outing to play at the arcade. Danny gives them some money *cough 1000$ cough* and let them go on their own after they beg to not have any adult supervision. Danny knows that is a bad idea but he can't say no to all those cute puppy eyes.

Suddenly, a notification enters his phone. A livestream from Joker's official website (that somehow hasn't been taken down). Danny has a bad feeling about it and opens the livestream to see Joker on live screen laughing as he monologues about his ideals or something.

What really catches his attention is the background of the room. Isn't that the arcade? Shit shit shit shit shit. His kids are there. His kids! HIS KIDS! Danny swears that if his kids are hurt in any way, Joker might need to say his last goodbye even if Batman and his whole spendex army are there. No one hurts his kids and gets away with it. Ask the guy that bullies Ellie when she travels around the world. Well you can't cause the guy is with Dan and no one gets away from Dan.

Danny takes his cane as he goes to his car. This is not any other car. This is a Fenton Car. Turning on the engine sounds like a bomb is going off in his car at the moment. Danny flicks a few switches and the car suddenly changes from the usual sleek black to a white and black with green neon lights coming from some sides.

His father and mother go crazy when they know he is Phantom. Not in the bad way, but in a good way. They apologize heavily but after Danny gets a little uncomfortable with them being so somber around him, he offers to help them build some ghost machines that can help them deal with ghosts without actually hurting them. His parents are ecstatic. This car is also one of the reasons his parents ask him to pursue engineering since he is very good at it. Like super good.

This car is his pet project and so far he hasn't been able to use most of its functions except some space expansion. Well Danny can't say he is excited to try them now since his kids are in danger and he really doesn't care about it anymore.

The black and white car suddenly turns invisible and intangible as Danny flicks on the last few switches and Danny speeds away in his car. 3 seconds. That's how fast he arrives at his destination with the car. When he stops, he flicks off the switches and all the functions are turned off. The polices at the barricade are startled when a car suddenly appears as some of them switch side to point their gun at him.

Danny comes out of the car with a very serious face. No smiles or laughter in his face whatsoever. Danny walks towards the barricade and as he walks, the police officers try to stop him but he just turns intangible and walks through them. When he finally passes the last barricade, a white ring of light appears around him blinding all the onlookers. When they open their eyes, Danny doesn't look like Danny anymore.

The previous Danny had neat black hair, ocean blue eyes, black suit with black ties and a pair of white gloves. Danny now looks like the complete opposite. White wavy hair, toxic green eyes, white tie and suit with black undershirt and a pair of black gloves. Even his cane changes from the woody exterior to a crystal ice sword.

He slowly walks into the area and Joker's goons start shooting at Danny as they think he is just a guy with a weird suit. Oh boy are they wrong.

As soon as the bullets reach a centimeter before Danny, they stop as if space itself prohibits them from moving. The goons become more nervous as any and all types of weapons from bullets, to knives to even grenades, none of them can touch him. The grenades don't even explode after getting stopped by him.

All the goons continue shooting as Danny walks closer slowly when suddenly multiple clicks sound at the same time. The goons realize that they may have spent all their bullets and none of them can touch him so far.

Some of the goons in defiance rush towards Danny with knives in their hand. Danny easily takes them down by swatting them with his ice sword/cane. One by one, all the goons fall to the ground. None of them are unconscious but none of them are able to move. It's like they are paralyzed.

Suddenly, the bullets and grenades that they release earlier start to move. They turn and move and the goons watch in horror as each bullet faces towards them. Danny can hear the police officers screaming about stuff but he honestly doesn't care. Danny releases all the bullets and screams can be heard throughout the alley. None of the goons die, Danny makes sure that death doesn't come easy for them, but if they are left like this for too long, even the deities can't save them.

Danny leaves the alley and walks further inside towards the place where Danny senses his kids are at. Unfortunately, they seem to be separated but that is a given since there are 2 dozen of them. Danny makes clones of himself and sends them to retrieve the kids as fast as possible. The clones turn invisible and fly through the building towards the one with the Joker inside. There is one more of his kids inside and since the Joker is there, he might as well give him a visit.

Danny arrives inside the building sensing his kids are on the 3rd floor. He flies up there and sees the Joker standing in front of the camera, still monologuing while his goons are holding the hostages at gunpoint. He sees his 8 year old daughter trembling while being hugged by his 10 year old son who is putting up a brave face for his little sister.

To say he is angry is an understatement. He is furious. He is livid. How dare they! How dare they touch my sweet children! They will die! ALL OF THEM WILL DIE!

The hostages suddenly panic when their visions turn black for a moment before they hear screams and multiple thud falling on the ground. When their visions return, all they can see is a man in white suit holding an ice cane slowly comforting 2 children.

"You will be fine, my children."

"I am here."

"No one will hurt you."

He repeats as the children cry into his arms and they hug for a long time. The other hostages look around them to see the Joker, standing still like he is chained by something and bloods on the ground without any bodies in sight.

The man lifts his children up and brings them outside the room and just as the hostages are about to follow suit, the man comes back inside but this time without the children.

Danny: Go out. I have cleared the way.

The hostages hesitantly go out of the room and when they see no one is outside, they rush out of the room and return back to the street where they see police officers taking the other hostages from other buildings to safety.

Danny meanwhile is left alone with the Joker in the room. Danny stares at Joker's eyes as he peers into his soul. A rotten one this is. Danny steps in front of the Joker and snaps his finger. Joker releases a deep huff, as if his breath is being held while he is just standing there.

Danny looks at the Joker and holds out his arm to the side. A chair comes flying to him as if being pulled by a rope. Danny puts the chair down and pushes the Joker to sit on it.

Danny: Hello Joker. Usually people say it is nice to meet you but unfortunately our circumstances are not very pleasant.

Danny stops as he makes a stool out of ice and sits on it.

Danny: Now, Joker. Or should I call you Jack? Jack Napier? Or is it Jack Oswald White? It doesn't matter. Now, Jack. Do you know why I'm here?

Danny stalls as he could see the confusion and horror in Jack's eyes.

Danny: I shall assume you don't. You, Jack, have done great harm to my children. I admit. I'm not the old vigilante anymore. I don't protect people and go around punching bad guys. Do you want to know why? Because I have children now. I have a family to take care of. So I don't actually care about what you wish to do. Even if you burn Gotham to the ground, as long as my children are fine, I will not care. But it seems fate decides to get rid of either of us today. So here is what's gonna happen. One, I kill you right here right now.

As Danny says that he points his cane at Jack's chest.

Danny: Or you could experience all the pain and suffering you have inflicted on all your victims right here right now. If you choose the later option, I will release you after you finish your punishment. And we will go our merry way as long as you don't cross paths with me anymore. I will give you 10 seconds to decide.

Danny says as he lowers his cane. He stands up and walks around the Joker. He stomps his cane on the ground every time a single second has passed and as the tenth stomps sound, a voice replies to Danny

Jack: The second one.

Danny: I see.

Danny then walks in front of the Joker and raises his finger. A beam of green light enters his forehead from Danny's finger and Joker's head falls down.

Danny then walks back to his stool as he waits for it to happen.

Screams. Screams that are more horrifying the longer it lasts. Jack's screams sound like something only an eldritch can emit. Danny watches calmly as all of this happens. He waits and waits when suddenly, Jack stops. He stops and releases a big laughter.

Jack: hahahaHaHaHaHaHaHAHAHA...... I did it. I survived. Ahahahahaha.

Danny: Indeed. Congratulations on surviving Jack. And as promised I will let you go.

Jack can feel the restraints that Danny casts on him disappears like it is never there. Jack decides to run towards the door and stays away from this weirdo. If not for the fact that Jack is scared this guy will kill him, he would have fallen unconscious already.

Except the door is locked. He turns to look at Danny warily expecting him to turn back on his words or something.

What he doesn't expect is that Danny is no longer there. What replaced him are multiple ghostly figures that are slowly walking towards him. Jack turns as he bangs on the door. From begging to angry cussing, nothing can help him anymore. All of Jack's victims have come to pay him a visit. And this time, they will bring him with them.

Danny watches as Jack's body falls limp on the ground from the punishment. The last thing Jack saw is actually a hallucination. Something he makes to give Jack the maximum despair he can feel.

Danny releases the restraint on Jack's body as his body falls limp on the chair. He looks around the room and sees a peculiar device with a red light coming from it.

Shit. All of it is recorded isn't it?

Part 2

[shiny-jr]

▶ damnation [ the praetorian imp ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Ortho Shroud, Idia Shroud.

– Note: Here it is. I got lazy and did not check it after reading it multiple times before posting on Quotev. So hopefully there's no mistakes. At least not a lot of them. Now read. Happy reading.

– Pages: 43

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Raven Retainer   |   The Praetorian Imp   |   ???

Cold metal. There was a slight weight on the top of your skull, like the heft of a circlet. Carefully reaching up, your fingers touched thin cold metal, but as you tried to gingerly remove it, it failed to come off. Gentle tugs become harsh pulls, but that only serves to form an ache in your head as if you were pulling on your hair. Was it some sort of deadly contraption placed on prisoners? Was this how they wanted you to die? By crushing your skull with this thing? 

“Wh– Where am I…?”

As you stumbled over your own two feet, you stopped yanking on the metal on top of your cranium. Fear took root as you absorbed your surroundings, dark and unfamiliar, those same qualities as the jail cell but this was unlike any prison. There were high walls with columns of gray and silver and gold, arched ceilings that were mixes of blues and grays and blacks which almost looked like painted murals that had been smeared across the surface. The floor was freezing like cement, but it was a smooth polished dark gray. With at least two floors, the second was accessible by some wide curved stairs which lead to more of the unknown. Your voice echoed in the space, leaving you to believe you were completely alone. 

Skull-crushing could still be on the list of possible ways to die. Or would your punishment be isolation? Complete solitude was known to drive people insane. It didn’t even seem like a single soul alive was here, leaving only the sound of your heavy breathing in the otherwise unsettling silence. White flowers from large vases wilted, their petals suspended gray and limp like hanged bodies.

On the floors you nearly slip and hit your head, but you manage to grab a nearby column that was as thick and sturdy as an old oak tree. That’s when you caught sight of your reflection in a nearby huge vase coated with a reflective exterior. You were staring wide-eyed at an unfamiliar figure, so odd that it took a moment to register that it was truly you. 

A long black cloth with dark blue meander borders acted like a shirt or a robe, wrapping over one shoulder and extending in different directions to act like a small cloak and cover part of your legs. From your hips to your ankles covered by part of the top cloth, were a pair of black pants with more blue meander borders decorating it. They were like modern day sweatpants and an ancient palla all in one outfit, which you might’ve admired if you weren’t currently filled with confusion and dread. That metal object on your head was like a headpiece, with two long thin black protruding pieces slicked back that glowed a slight blue. Like a demon’s horns. Impossible to remove. 

You resembled a demon with these horns, a devilish little imp. When your eyes adjusted, the reflective surface of the vase was painted. Painted black and browns, like the famous Athenian ceramic styles with figures of black and brick red. Except, each vase depicted a different scene. A powerful muscled figure standing proudly and holding a bolt of lightning; a baby strangling two large snakes; a young scrawny individual training beside a satyr and a pegasus. 

“Get– these off…!”

An imp… you were an imp! Horror spread across your features, and the constant tugging to remove the metallic horn-like objects from your skull served pain stronger than a slap, to let you know that this was no dream. The judges had cast the final verdict, and as soon as you arrived you were destined to live as a miserable little creature to serve a higher being. A god. 

A God of the Underworld, that wielded the deadliest of blue flames and kept all souls contained within his land of misery. A being of divinity who envied his family and others who dwelled high in the clouds of Mount Olympus, so he planned meticulously for years to lay siege to the mountain by freeing titans who would wreak havoc across the globe. Just as he sits on the throne where the God of Thunder and King of Gods once dwelled, the human son of that royal god arrived to face the dark god. That gloomy and dreary antagonistic entity had three main underlings, two of which were imps he regularly abused and tormented. 

Maiming, wringing their necks, burning them in blue fire, those were just some of the torture those imps faced at the hands of their master. You felt yourself fall to your knees in a heap, like a rag doll, by the overwhelming emotions weighing in your mind and the now new burden of survival on your shoulders. This was hell, literally. So caught up with this newfound revelation, that you didn’t even notice the vases become blank as if by magic, wiping the depicted scenes off their surface. Hallucinations! 

These must’ve been hallucinations formed by your unstable mind–– You were especially sure of it when it felt as if the ground vanished beneath your feet and were surrounded by dark mists. The dark and elegant place you had once stood in, was gone, and you plunged into a dark pit. A small plunge, then you fell on rocky uneven earth, leading you to fall flat on your face. There was hardly any light, and the ceiling was low. But, there was a blue flame, a small glow to which you opened your eyes to. 

In front of you was a young boy that looked more akin to an android. Surely, another illusion, but your certainty wavered when it blinked at you. It blinked with its wide bright yellow eyes. Its eyes were like a light, as was its hair made of what seemed like real blue flames that was like a torch in this small cave. Its body was dark and metallic, part of those metals extending over the mouth like a mask. “There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you chickened out. Are you ready to put on a show? Remember, we gotta make it believable, the hero won’t be the only one there! We gotta trick all the humans!” 

“W-What…?” You watched as the android-like being opened up a hologram in front of him, and on the screen of light were various shapes and figures of numerous creatures and people alike. 

Whatever this thing was, its voice became monotone for a brief few seconds as its pointer finger landed on the image of a normal young boy. “Selecting… Loading… Finalizing appearance.” In an instant, a light flashed over him and he became that little boy in the hologram. “What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh? Now, your turn!”

If you squint, it was like peering through glass, because at some angles you could still see the android. However, you had absolutely no time to question it, or the situation at hand, or what he could’ve possibly meant, because the quiet was shattered by the squeal of what sounded like a horse. 

Scrambling onto your feet, you approached the thin tiny opening where light filtered in, far too small to squeeze past but just big enough to peer through. It took a few spare seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light of the outside on this cloudy day, but you could make out high rocky cliffs as gray as the sky. And a white horse with wings, a pegasus, several meters away with two people. A young man in purple who looked quite ruffled and a muscular woman with auburn locks. You blanched upon recognizing the location. 

The mighty hero was said to have fought his first life-threatening battle in a gorge, just like this one. It was a battle that nearly cost him his life. The human servant, obliged to serve the dark Lord of the Underworld, lured the hero to the gorge under the guise of an accident requiring urgent attention from a savior. The accident involved two children trapped under rubble where nearby the hydra lurked. And those two children? Were the two imps who also served the God of the Dead. One imp, you were one. And the other? Beside you now, which explained his matching metallic horns on his head. Meaning the hydra was near. Each breath you took increased in pace, on the very verge of hyperventilating–– 

“Help! Hurry! We can’t breathe!” The android boy cried for help, his little eyes peeking out of the same gap you were peering out of. Even his voice sounded different with whatever magic or technology he used to disguise himself. As the hero was running over and a crowd was forming a good distance away, your fellow imp looked at you and whispered in confusion, “Where’s your disguise? You can’t let her see––”

“Get me out…!! Please! Anyone! Someone!” You gasped, suddenly realizing just how small it was underneath this massive boulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t crashed down yet, killing you instantly like rock squishing an ant. But if the boulder didn’t kill you, then the hydra would. And that was what terrified you, causing you to scream for help. 

The young boy’s eyes brightened up, looking a bit taken aback at your volume before he grinned. At least, he must’ve been grinning, judging by the way his eyes lit up. Pausing his very loud pleas, he whispered in amazement, “Wow, you’re really good at this acting!” 

You were not acting. Especially not when help arrived in the form of the protagonist. 

Instead of a man as depicted in the stories, it was a woman. A woman with innocent blue eyes and a kind voice that attempted to ease the worries of what she must’ve thought were two poor victims trapped beneath debris from a rock slide. Her eyes darted from what she saw as a normal little boy, then over to you. “It’s okay, I promise you’ll be alright.” Those eyes like the bright blue sky, softened with a hint of pity, maybe because you just looked that pitiful and on the verge of tears. Because you knew what monster would come lurking from the gorge just moments after you and the small horned being beside you are supposed to be saved. 

Incredibly, with only a minimal amount of struggling, the hero heaved the boulder slowly above her head with her strong arms. Even though the rock was easily ten times her size, she raised it up high above her head, allowing you and the boy to scamper out of the pit. Managing a charming smile despite the tons of weight she was holding, she began, “How are you holding up? Are you injured or––” 

Running. You were running. There was no way you would waste even a second here, and become a victim to that three-headed beast. It sounded like the hero had shouted something as you fled, and were followed by the android boy still in disguise as he called for you to wait up. Climbing, climbing, you took what looked like a thin path on a narrow cliff’s edge until you reached a hollow cavity hidden by shadows and boulders. By then you were out of breath, heaving, the ache in the back of your legs screaming from all that climbing and your lungs burning. 

It seemed as if your torment was far from over. As your gaze traveled up, you stilled like a deer in the headlights. There, engraved within the very surface of the rugged stone walls, was a mausoleum that appeared to be left abandoned. Its smooth columns held up ledges, and at the very mouth of the entrance was a throne of pure stone occupied by a stranger. A stranger that looked eerily similar to the android that had been your company. 

A figure who sat looking quite bored upon witnessing a mortal with inhuman strength. There were no words, but just by appearance alone you knew that this was the divine god that ruled the underworld. Fire, blue fire, ran from the top of his head down his spine and over thin shoulders. He was covered from neck to toe, completely in robes of dark blues and dull grays. Long sleeves with meander patterns extended to his wrist, and even his bony fingers were pitch black either due to the fabric of a glove or it was his actual skin, you couldn’t tell. The himation, the cloth that pooled on the floor at his feet, was pinned by a brooch resembling a skull. 

Chilling yellow eyes leered down at you, his blue lips pulled back slightly in a grimace to reveal unnaturally sharp teeth on his pale face. Under his judgemental gaze, you felt like a miserable little roach scuttering about underfoot. “This isn’t a theater, and you’re not Dionysus, tryhard. That was major overkill. You screamed so much I heard you loud and clear from all the way up here, pretty sure all those humans heard you.” 

In the blink of an eye, the android’s disguise was gone and he floated beside you. Placing a gentle but cold metallic hand on your back, he eagerly piped up, “I think they did really good, brother!” Brother? The god, the villain of this story, was his brother? Certainly the resemblance was there between the god and the being in the role of the imp. “Did you see the look on the hero’s face, Idia? By my estimations, the act fooled all mortal onlookers!” 

Brother. But… that couldn’t be possible. Now that you were high up beside the god, Idia is what your partner in crime had called him, you were no longer so fearful of immediately becoming the hydra’s next meal. That wouldn’t happen, especially when according to the story, the lord of the underworld was the one who controlled the hydra. But now you were currently more concerned and fearful of the literal divine being sitting in front of you. The lord’s brothers were only supposed to be other gods from Mount Olympus, not a being that served him. What else was different about the story? More importantly, what would he do to you once he realized that you did not belong?

“Okay, fine. Stirring performance. Gets five stars from me. Definitely better than that uber cringe Oedipus play that came out a while back. Ortho, nice, you really played the cute little kid you gotta feel for, and you…” Idia directed his attention to you, and you froze in place under his gaze as he sized you up. “You actually weren’t that annoying this time. So congrats, I guess.” He added dismissively, apparently bored with this prelude as the crowd of humans down below continued to clap for the protagonist that had just saved two souls from the boulders in the gorge. Then, his gaze traveled over to the shadows, on a small cliff where a figure you hadn’t even noticed had been standing in silence. “And can’t forget you. A thumbs-up for the leading guy. Even a girl like her can’t resist you, huh, Meg? Talk about pretty privilege. It must be nice.” 

Startled slightly by the new presence, you glanced over, spotting a slightly familiar face looking over the cliff. It was that man who had been accompanying the protagonist. A fairly handsome looking man with brown wavy hair, in a purple chiton and baggy loose gray pants. Again, there was that modern style mixed with ancient, making you question what time this took place in. But that question was so insignificant compared to the rest of your worries, that it would be pushed to the very back of your mind.

Looking from Meg to Idia, you compare the two faces. The God of the Underworld certainly wasn’t ugly, per say. In fact, he was ethereal in his own unique way. It was more of an acquired taste to appreciate the slight cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and the dim glow his fire blue hair provided in the dark space. He wasn’t exactly the beauty standard that could be compared to a warm summer day, but cold rainy nights could be just as beautiful. 

“What are you staring at? Can you not? Seriously, don’t you know that’s rude?” The god muttered in a near sneer, his gaze unable to meet yours. In fact, he appeared to be looking anywhere but at you. Like he was nervous. But what would a god have to be nervous about? “When I leave home, I’d rather not be gawked at like some freak. I don’t need another reminder.”

Embarrassment caused heat to creep up your neck and into your cheeks as you lowered your head swiftly in an apologetic nod. With your eyes now glued to the ground, you didn’t lift your head even an inch. It was a mercy that he didn’t appear to be a wrathful god. Cruel, perhaps, but apparently not quick to violence. If he was the hostile type, the last thing you would probably see was his calming blue fire turn an angry red before your body became nothing but ashes in the wind and your soul joining the countless in the river of the dead. In an effort to appease him so he wouldn’t believe you were staring for the wrong reasons, you began hesitantly, in a nervous tone, “I-I’m sorry–– I was staring because, well, you talk as if y-you didn’t have that specific privilege either.” 

Because you kept your head down, you failed to see all three of them, Ortho, Idia, and even Meg whipped his head around to stare with their own forms of shock as you snapped your mouth shut. There was no room to question what was said and done as a tense sort of silence settled in the air. 

“Not funny, didn’t laugh. I had no idea the role of jester was just taken up. Last I knew, we still had that position available. Guess I was wrong.” He replied, unamused, and surprisingly not offended. At least he didn’t seem as if he was about to smite you for offending a god. It was jarring how lax he was, but he spoke with bitter sarcasm which actually hurt. “If I wanted a laugh, I’d probably watch you snivel and cry again, but honestly it’s way more pathetic than funny so there’s really no point in it unless I want to remind myself that there’s someone within a ten foot radius who’s giving me a run for my money in the pity department.” 

“I don’t think any of you are pathetic or pitiful.” Ortho chimed in, throwing in his two cents on the matter. To which the god only glanced at. “Shall I search our records for the soul of a successful jester? I believe we may have a few that once served kings in past centuries?” 

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the motion while propping up his elbow on the armrest of the stone throne. “Nah, don’t bother, none of them are that funny anyways. It’s not worth the effort of fishing them out of the river of souls. Once we secure our win, then maybe I’ll consider it when the muses run out of jokes to tell.” 

The muses? Did he plan to use those divine beings as servants once he conquered Mount Olympus? 

“Uh, you can scram now? I know your soul is probably drawn to the company of other mortals like pretty-boy Meg over there and that schlemiel Heraclea.” Idia scoffed, looking a bit bitter. Although, maybe that was his natural expression along with the constant gloom that seemed to permanently linger around the divine being. He rolled his eyes, murmuring the word so it sounded like an insult, “Mortals.” 

“T-Then… I’ll talk to Meg.” You kept your head down both out of respect and out of fear. Even if this supposed god was nowhere near as frightening in appearance as you had originally imagined, he was still a god capable of things you could never imagine. Better safe than sorry. 

There was no chance to add anymore, since a hiss and the screams of terrified people filled the gorge. The massive serpent slithering out from its hidden den screeched as a storm brewed. The beast was probably more horrifying than any creature from nightmares you’ve dreamt, and thankfully you weren’t one of the many mortals down in the pit where they were within striking distance. 

As all this unfolded multiple levels down in the pit, you cautiously made your way to the edge beside the human who served the god, seeing that the Lord of the Underworld had grown bored of the ridicule and decided watching the death match was worth his attention. Of course you knew how the battle would unfold. The hero would struggle against the massive scaled beast, before beheading it, only to be faced with numerous more heads that resulted from each slice. In the end, the warrior would prevail, beaten and bruised, but alive and hailed as a hero by the townsfolk. However, watching it all transpire in real time right before your very eyes, brought a newfound level of anxiety. 

That hero attempted to regain her confidence, but her maneuvers were awkward and unsure when faced with her first real threat. Each movement was just barely enough to save her from the snapping jaws of the currently single-headed hydra. Each swing of her blade met its equally sharp fangs, and clashed like two swords. Watching the scene beside you, was that human, the character that was to be the love interest of the hero. 

Meg watched with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms, looking both anxious and displeased. So quiet that it was easy to miss over the sounds of people in chaos and the snarling of the hydra, he murmured, “I don’t know what your angle is, but it won’t work.” 

Averting your attention away from the spectacle below, you slowly turned your head to the man. “I’m sorry…?” What was he talking about? Angle? There was no angle. Right now you were just trying to survive, nothing more, nothing less. 

“Don’t play stupid, you sleazy imp. Complimenting him? Of all people? Even I’m not desperate enough to sweet-talk him like that. He’d see through the ruse anyways.” He hissed, glaring at you with those odd violet eyes that momentarily stopped at you, then his superior, back to the gorge. “Heraclea should’ve dropped that boulder on you to squish you like the insect you are.” 

At that mental image you nearly flinched. When his gaze glanced over at that god and his younger brother, your eyes followed. The android boy was peering down at the gorge, clapping his hands excitedly as if he was spectating some game instead of a deadly match. The god was still on that cold stone throne, grinning as he lounged as if he were at home kicked back on a couch. When those otherworldly yellow eyes met yours and his grin faltered, you tensed up before diverting your attention back to the nail-biting action. 

Anxiously you twiddle your thumbs. Heraclea… So that was the protagonist’s name. You shuddered to think of what would become of you should she one day think of you as an enemy and not as an innocent person to be saved. Were you someone to be saved? Yes. Innocent? No, not exactly. Although, if the Lord of the Underworld managed to successfully conquer Mount Olympus, wouldn’t that mean he would bring his servants to that safe haven in the clouds too? All the other gods would be imprisoned, even the mighty God of Thunder who currently ruled over the mountain. Mount Olympus was high in the clouds, it was practically heaven. You would be safe there. 

Eventually, Idia would acquire titans, each with astounding elemental powers and then some. Each and every god had fallen in defeat against the titans, all save for the God of Thunder and his son who defeated them, now daughter in this case. And the only reason the hero had regained their strength to defeat the titans, was because his love, Meg, had gotten injured. If Meg was kept safe, then he wouldn’t have ever had his strength returned to him, meaning he never would’ve been able to stop the siege on Mount Olympus. Certainly it would allow you to be safe and alive, perhaps even served by gods and goddesses, so long as you heed Idia’s every word. And a piece of the key to that future, stood right beside you. 

Clearing your throat, you nearly felt sick when you watched as Heraclea finally beheaded the beast, and the hydra’s body went limp against the relieved cheers of the townsfolk. The calm before the storm. At that moment, you struggled to find something to say. “Is… Is it because I didn’t compliment you…?” Why was he so harsh towards you? Actually, scratch that. It was obvious there were trust issues there, and he wouldn’t be too fond of one of the two that worked so closely with the god he sold his soul to. “Nevermind, that was stupid thing to ask.” 

“Yeah, it was. What a dope.” When he rolled his eyes, that was probably the sign to leave. However, your feet remained firmly planted. Even as he continued his degrading comments, “It seems like every peloponnesian minute, you get more and more pathetic.” With a wave of his hand, he shooed you away with a scowl tugging on his lips. “Why don’t you go join the watch party with them?” 

It was quite morbid to see the Lord of the Underworld and his younger brother appear quite enthusiastic when the decapitated beast suddenly started moving and sprouted three heads within a single second. The duo were raving about something you couldn’t hear due to the wind and rain that had picked up. They remained under the hollowed stone, keeping them dry. However, Meg continued to stand beside you on the cliff, getting drenched with each drop. 

Part of you considered just extending out your arm and pushing him over the cliff, but there was no use in that. Chances are, Heraclea would save him and Idia might not appreciate the fact that one of his best pawns was gone. And if Meg died from the fall, for what reason would the hero then later have to give up his powers if not to save the love interest? So, refraining, you instead unraveled part of the cloth around yourself to extend over his head like an umbrella. 

“... Thanks.” The thank you was hesitant as he eyed you carefully, but at least he had the decency to be grateful. By now, it appeared as if the hydra had been slayed by falling rubble along with the hero, but you knew better. Without even looking at you, Meg repeated, “Like I said before, I don’t know what you're up to, but keep me out of it.” 

“I’m just… trying to spare myself is all.” Your response held a much deeper meaning than he, or anyone else in this world, could ever know. To him, it just seemed like you meant standing by him to distance yourself from the god when the hydra lay buried and still while Heraclea emerged bruised but alive to a rapturous applause from the cheering far below. 

You swore you saw the god’s blue hair spark red for a moment, the flames appearing to wave a little faster but he didn’t make any motion to grab and burn anything with his bare hands. All he did was stand up and stalk off, and you were in no way tempted to elicit a worser reaction from him. Not when Ortho was unnerving you by how he stood still, his brows furrowed in disappointment with a tilt of his head as he watched the protagonist get showered in praise and thanks. Neither of them would you approach, even as a dark mist surrounding the ledge. When it was gone, you and the others were back in those dark hallowed halls from where you first arrived. 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Staring at the ceiling. It felt as if you had barely slept, and you had no sense of the time as it was so dark in the underworld. All you wanted to do was sleep, sleep and never wake up to avoid this endless nightmare but all you could do was disassociate. And yet, you couldn’t even be granted that small mercy of sleep. A coma would be a blessing right about now. However, all you could do was get lost in the painted and carved shapes and swirls, silently staring up blankly. 

When you imagined the possibility of perhaps achieving paradise on Mount Olympus by assisting the Lord of Underworld receive an ending of his own, you had not accounted for just how long that would take. How long each venture and battle would add to each hour, how the days began to bleed together and feel like a blur. Especially with each task done, you came no closer to derailing Heraclea off her fast-speed track towards a good ending. 

The Erymanthian Boar was a wild and tameless beast that became the main dish of a feast when it was shot by a bow and promptly cooked on a spit. The Nemean Lion was like a kitten compared to the hero’s strength, even its claws famed for breaking the sharpest sword were no match. The Stymphalian Birds were caught and caged like canaries by the protagonist on her pegasus. Nothing, not a single beast or creature alive stood a chance against Heraclea. You witnessed these defeats firsthand, as you and Ortho were often charged with freeing whatever beast was to be the next challenge in a setting like a city waiting to be saved by the famed woman. 

And after each loss, you saw the same thing. Idia would remove a piece off a large board. Each piece was placed strategically, carved to reflect the appearance of each monster he controlled and wished to obtain. You watched as he flicked off the Erymanthian Boar, slapped off the Nemean Lion, melted the Stymphalian Bird to a puddle. You feared meeting a fate like that, at the protagonist or antagonist’s hands–– 

“Hey!! Guess what?” 

You hardly even moved, you didn’t even make a squeak, all you did was flinch when the face of the android appeared above you. After the first dozen or so times he spooked you by just magically appearing like a ghostly apparition, it stopped scaring you so much. Especially because Ortho didn’t want you dead. For whatever reason, he seemed strangely fond of you, perhaps because he thought that you were whoever you replaced as the role of his partner in crime. Besides, the one he wanted dead was the hero, he and his brother have made that much clear. 

“No––” 

“Meg recruited new pawns for Idia to use! Isn’t that exciting? And these three are super strong! There’s the Minotaur, Miss Stheno, and a Griffin! We think that the reason the hero has been winning all this time is because she’s only faced one enemy at a time. This is a game-changer, trust me!” Ortho took your hands in his cold metallic ones, his eyes shining as he whispered hopefully, “We’re so close, I can feel it…! Soon, we’re gonna be able to repay everything Idia ever did for us, by giving him Mount Olympus. I’ll be able to repay him for creating me, and you’ll be able to repay him for reviving you!” 

That… was new. In all your time here, you had never once heard anyone mention a creation and revival. There was no way you could just up and ask. You were supposed to know this, and play the part. While Ortho was cheerful and bright, there was this ominous side of him and glint in his eyes. Along with his mechanical parts that pointed to the obvious, what he had just said might’ve confirmed it, that he was in no shape, way, or form, human. 

“Yeah… I’m looking forward to it.” By now you knew the drill. Whenever Idia was plotting to use a new pawn, you and Ortho would have to go over details including where to release the enemies in a setting to wreck the most havoc and somewhere accessible to the protagonist. Sitting up slowly from the bed, you slid your hands out of his and used your palms to support yourself on the mattress. These next words, you would have to choose carefully. “Olympus for all that he’s done for us…” 

Ortho paused when he held up your bag, and he slowly tilted his head. He did it in a way that creeped you out, with those wide yellow eyes no longer sparkling so brightly. “Oh, I mean, what he’s done for me. You can do this and I’ll forgive you for lying to me.” 

You stopped breathing and your limbs froze in place. You were staring down at the young boy for what felt like a prolonged hour in silence as the air became thick with tension, but it was only a few seconds. It took a few more seconds for you to breathe, to swallow the knot caught in your throat which formed a bubbling pit of dread boiling within your stomach about to make you sick. “W-What…?” 

“Your heart rate has increased significantly, more so than usual. Ever since the hydra, I’ve noticed your vitals seem off. Of course, you have always been the nervous one, always panicking, but it seems more extreme now. So I’ve conducted some scans without your notice, and I’ve made an interesting discovery. The details within your current profile do not match the previously saved one.” With each word you could only stare in horror. How long has he known? Has he told anyone else? What would he do with this information now? What would Idia do if he knew? Each and every word was like a brick being added to a scale, tipping the balance further until you felt as if your very heart would stop. “It’s the weirdest thing. It’s almost as if you’re a completely different person.” 

At that moment you just wanted to vanish, disappear like gray smoke, because you’re certain that even the Lord of the Underworld’s lackey brother can give you a crueler ending than being swallowed whole by the hydra or seen as a foe in the eyes of the hero. 

Ortho remained still, his head still tilted. There was no blinking, he didn’t even breathe. The voice that came from him was serious but quiet, “Do you want to be honest to me now? We were supposed to be a team.” 

The horns. Those cursed metallic horns, the one on his head and the matching pair on yours, a telltale sign that you were supposed to be a duo. Somehow your hands found their way to your skull, to the base of the horns. No matter what you did, yanking, sawing, thumping them against the hard floors, nothing ever affected them when you attempted to remove them during lonely nights. 

“Breathe.” Ortho whispered, his eyes softening and brows furrowing slightly, as if he were looking at a panicked little beast fearfully curled up in a corner. You hadn’t even noticed you were nearly hyperventilating until he said something. You recognized that look, one of pity. Why was it that you were so familiar and used to that look, but the one time you needed it during the trial, you were shown none? “If I wanted you gone, we wouldn’t be talking right now, you know that, right? You aren’t them, and I don’t understand it, but… you do good work. Help me understand you, and I’ll help you understand us. Okay?” 

Broken. You broke, like a dam cracking and crumbling, the bricks swept away in a rushing torrent of words and feeble attempts at explanation. It was clear that he had been expecting some resistance of some kind, but he received none. You recounted everything, from your trial to now, the fear you’ve felt, your nightmares, the desperation to avoid a horrible end that you were destined to receive. Not divulging into the details, not mentioning the fact that this was like a story you knew. And finally, after everything was said, you wiped your teary eyes as you breathed the final words. “Please–– don’t tell anyone. N-No one can know. I’ll do what you want, I’ll help you get your brother to Olympus…! Please, all I want is peace too…” 

Your fellow imp finally blinked, surprised and utterly taken aback by your rapid explanation and plea for secrecy. For a long moment, Ortho appears to scrutinize you. Who knew what was going on in that mechanical mind of his, what things he was realizing that were unseen by human eyes? Finally, he sat beside you. Well, almost, since he floated in the air in front of you, sitting on nothing but empty space. “He doesn’t want peace. That’s boring.” 

Swinging his legs lightly, he removed the metallic mouthpiece that concealed the lower half of his face. You saw… nothing out of the ordinary. He looked so much like a real boy that it was uncanny, save for the pointed teeth that were very much like Idia’s. 

Clearing your throat, you proceeded, “I-I don’t care, as long as I’m safe.” 

“I like it better when you’re honest.” Placing the metal mouthpiece on his lap, he continued to observe you before he gave you a smile. A real smile. Somberly he proceeded, “Idia created me with his own two hands, because his biological family alienated him. Every other god lives in those high mountains, where they’re so close to the sun’s warmth and have an abundance of treasures! They never work, never worry… but not my brother. They forced him to live alone in this cold realm, to take on the responsibility of lording over the dead for all of eternity. So, eventually he brought me to life in this metal body. Then he chose a human soul to revive just so I wouldn’t be lonely either. That human soul was you, or my friend before you, at least. But I think I like you better.” 

“You… You do?” 

“Yeah! I think my brother picked a really bad human soul. The one you replaced was scared all the time, like you, but they never got the job done right. I like you, because even when you’re obviously scared, you do what you have to, and you do it right.” His blunt and casual manner of speaking, combined with the fact that he was still swinging his legs as he floated off the floor, reminded you that he really was a child. Or at least, molded to be like a child. “Don’t worry, I won’t speak a word about it to my brother. This doesn’t affect his plans anyways. As long as you pinky promise you won’t lie to me anymore, and you’ll still help!” 

When he held out a little pinky, you blinked slowly. Such a childish thing, a pinky promise, but your life would hang on the balance between two small interlocked bones. Your life, on nothing but a promise. Did you really have a choice in the matter? “You swear you won’t tell anyone…??” 

“I swear! We Shrouds always uphold our bargain. Imp’s honor!” His beaming smile could light up this entire dreary realm as you slowly wrapped your pinky around his and shook hands. 

“But… imps aren’t very honorable––” 

“Yeah, we are! I.M.P.– information management praetorians. We have to be honest, especially to each other, or how else will our team work?” Ortho argued, frowning lightly at the thought of being considered a liar. “At least, we have to be honest to our own. When it comes to mortals that are not you or Meg, who cares?” He placed that metallic mouthpiece back on that covered the lower portion of his face, and he stood up from his chair of air. “Come on, let’s start walking. On the way, you can tell me something interesting that I don’t know. I bet your world is so different! Tell me about it, please?”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

This was your punishment, not from fate or the very hands that brought down the gavel then declared you were to be banished and die, but by Ortho. Ortho’s cruel little hands, who had tricked you into switching responsibilities for the day. Apparently he was still bitter that you had lied to him in previous encounters. What he hadn’t told you was that his main task for the day was to accompany the Lord of the Underworld across the river of souls and to the mortal realm. 

So now here you were, seated so awkwardly and stiffly on the small thin boat, nervously watching the grotesque faces of the dead as their souls were carried by the currents. You could only pray that the boat didn’t tip over, because who knew what would happen to your mortal body if it fell in? It was likely mentioned in the story, but you couldn’t recall exactly what it was.

Idia appeared relatively unbothered, standing at the very edge of the boat as a masked being made of metals and dark robes moved mechanically. The mechanical charon rowed the vessel to the other side of the river, and quickly you grew bored of their slow and repetitive movements. So you turned your gaze to Idia. You couldn’t see his face, since his back was to you. All you could see was his glowing mane of blue flames waving lightly with the cold lifeless air. Abruptly, he turned his head and you saw his side profile. Those chilling unnatural yellow eyes glanced at you with a dull expression on his face, possibly sensing your stare, you quickly averted your gaze away. But it was too late, he had seen it. 

“What is your deal? You have a major staring problem, imp.” 

“N-Nothing, nothing!” Rapidly shaking your head, you looked for an excuse, any excuse. Anything to save you from this embarrassment, or avoid the risk of angering him. You saw his anger in brief sporadic moments, but you did not want to be the source of those frustrations. Not after you saw how he burned those pawns on that beloved board of his. “I was just wondering… what exactly are we going to do in the mortal realm?” And more importantly, how chaotic would things get? 

“Tsk. Just monitor that lamebrain hero. Everyone like that has a weak spot. I mean, Prometheus and Epimetheus messed around with Pandora and the box thing, a bunch of the gods on Olympus got too involved in the Trojan War and in the end the Trojans bet on the wrong horse. All we gotta do is find her Achilles’ heel so to speak.” 

It was odd how in the original story, The Lord of the Underworld never quite acknowledged most of the gods. Except for the God of Thunder, who he held a clear distaste for. However, Idia spoke as if he knew all of them personally, which would make sense. But whenever he said their names, he frowned and seemed as if he weren’t fond of any of them. 

Seeing him roll his eyes, you glance at the charon who moved like a puppet, then back at the god. The silence was only temporary. Tucking your knees to your chest as you remain seated, you watch him as he continues to gaze out over the gray and lifeless realm that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Idia seemed like the solitary type, and if what Ortho said was true, than Idia would be alone. Clearing your throat, you inquired softly, “The Trojan War… which gods were involved in that?” 

Upon hearing the inquiry, he paused but remained still. How many gods and humans and other beings had he known in his long immortal life? Probably too many to count. Idia remained looking away, as if he hadn’t even heard your question, but he answered, “Not that it really matters, but too many. To call the entire ordeal messy would be a major understatement.” 

It sounded like one big trashy reality television show, except much more deadlier and the stakes were high. And yet, if his words were the truth, then he may have not had any part in the conflict. “And you didn’t get involved?” 

“Why would I? I have zero interest in the stupid pointless affairs of mortals.” Okay, so he was not a fan of mortals waging war or causing conflicts. That was good to know. “Whenever they start fighting, more of them end up down there, and it’s annoying. The only bright side of it is that I don’t have to listen to all their arguing on Olympus.”

Carefully, you proceeded to ask, “So… you don’t like them? The other gods, I mean. Can you stand them…?” 

“I can’t stand any of those self-important deadbeats.” A deep frown dug into his lips, clear hatred shining in those tired eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. You would be equally bitter about practically being left to rot, to carry a burden for eternity all while everyone else who was supposed to stand beside you went to live lavishly in the clouds without a single care in the world, while their only worries were which mortals to support and pit against another like watching dogfights.

In a way, it felt like how the judges back in your home cast their judgment from aloft, and you were left alone to suffer for it. Unsure of what possessed you, you managed to ask, “What would you change? I mean, if you could punish them for wronging you, what would you do?” 

Leaning against the curved end of the boat, he situated his elbow atop the curve and propped up his head on his cheek. For a long moment he was quiet, gazing at you with those striking yellow eyes. Tired, he looked tired. And after centuries, thousands of years doing his work, who wouldn’t be? “Make them suffer for the rest of eternity, just as they damned me to hell. Chains would be a pretty good start, to make them feel a tiny fraction of how it felt to be trapped. They killed that little smidge of hope I had a long long time ago, so I’ll be fair and return the favor by killing their little hero Heraclea.” 

Considering his response, you nod slowly. While morbid, his feelings felt justified. Had anyone else been in his position, they likely would’ve gone insane. Maybe Idia wasn’t completely sane in the first place, considering how alone he had been until the creation of Ortho and supposed revival of the person you replaced. What sane person would create a family and a friend for himself, just to try and end their loneliness?

“You just focus your puny efforts on helping me change the world. When the titans are freed, everything will change. You can take that as gospel, or whatever.”  

He returned his sights ahead over the river of souls, you suddenly remember what happens if a mortal falls into the murky depths. Their body is quickly drained of life, draining them like a grape dried to a prune, leaving nothing but a wrinkled corpse if the person stays in for too long. It’s how the protagonist nearly met their end, and where the god before you is supposed to become trapped in complete darkness. 

You watched, both intimidated and captivated as a wide toothy grin broke out on his face like he thought of something funny. He scoffed, proceeding with his words in quick succession, almost breaking out into a laugh. “Those unsuspecting dolts have spent so much time up in the clouds that the air pressure must’ve literally dimmed their common sense and cut off the oxygen from their brains. They won’t even see us coming! Ah––” Freezing, his smile dropped instantly as he noticed your shock and he realized that he was allowing himself to speak more freely. Instantly he cut himself off, lowering his volume back down a few notches. Seemingly embarrassed, he partially covered his blue lips with the sleeves of his robes. “Uh… That… What I mean to say is… unlike them, I actually take others into account. One god won’t take up space on that mountain, there’s room for Ortho and a mortal too. To live however you want.”

That expression he had made, was it possible he was becoming more accustomed to you? Wait, no, he was just warming up to the role you played. Ortho had mentioned that you naturally acted just like the imp you had replaced. The Lord of the Underworld was just growing accustomed to the presence of the mortal soul of what he thought was the human he picked to become his lackey. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less. The god would never care for a mortal, not when he used the two humans closest to him, yourself and Meg, as pawns in a game to defeat the human hero, and the result without that hero would be mass casualties. As long as it wasn’t you being tormented by the beasts Idia controlled or even the titans that would soon be free, you didn’t care. Fate was dangling paradise atop a mountain behind golden gates right in front of you, and you just had to survive long enough to make it there. If only it were that easy… 

“However I want…” 

“However you want,” Idia repeated, as the boat stopped and the charon froze in place at a rickety old pier. Just ahead on land was a cavern with the slightest bit of sunlight flowing through it. A possible path to the mortal realm? “Cause I don’t really care what you do then. Right now, hurry it up.” 

Carefully standing, you immediately jumped off the rocking boat, following the ominous divine being who ruled over the dead. Cautious to keep some distance so as to not be burned by his hair, you trail behind him. “... So… what exactly do I have to do this time…?” You prayed for an easy task, wanting to at least be out of a few mile radius distance from the hero. 

“You? Oh, nothing. A wimpy little imp like you wouldn’t survive if you got too close to that hero. And really, I don’t feel like going through the effort of finding another mortal to work for me. Not when you’re useful enough, I suppose. At least you’re better than the last imp.” He practically floated across the ground, the smoke following at his heels with every step he took. 

At least you’re better than the last imp. When you heard those words, you froze in place, your feet stuck to the stairs. It felt as if your very heart had stopped, and your breathing had even come to a halt. There… weren’t any predecessor imps in the story, were there? No–– you would’ve remembered such a crucial detail. So that could only mean that he knew. Somehow he knew–– 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His voice broke the silence, as he saw your foot inch back, as if wanting to escape back towards the river of souls. Maybe if you hijacked the boat, forced the charon to take you somewhere far far away from here. To another portal you could use to escape into the mortal realm, anywhere but here with him. The god that ruled over the dead could see the fear clear in your eyes. His gaze was cold, and he was frowning. “Thinking of ending it all here?” 

Staring into his eyes, gazing right at him, was utterly terrifying now that you didn’t know whether he considered you friend or foe. In the stories The Lord of the Underworld practically tortured his imps for sport, what if he did the same to you? You were no brother to him, you weren’t even the original soul he handpicked! You only moved your head slightly, in the subtlest nod. You didn’t want to die, but a quick and painless death by your own hand would be a mercy when compared to the horrors those pale boney hands of him would wrought. 

“Pfft––” A toothy grin spread on his blue lips. The Lord of the Underworld actually smiled, and nearly laughed at your blunt response. He shrugged at your notion, and responded, “You’re not special. Get over it. Don’t even try to kill yourself, because I'll drag you straight out of the river and back here in front of me.” 

That was… extremely unnerving. As scary as death was and as much as you wished to avoid it at any costs, it didn’t appear as if it would become some sort of sweet release. Not until he found you useless. You couldn’t help but notice that he spoke much more… curtly than usual, as if ticked off by something. 

By some miracle you managed to swallow your fear. Perhaps it was because he found you amusing that he allowed you a few more seconds of life, or maybe it was because he really had some kind of plan in mind for you. Which was worse? Spending your last seconds agonizing over how he would end you, or believe he may kill you only to put you through tasks that would make you long for death. Meekly you murmur, “N-Normal people don’t say that––” 

“I’m not a normal person, am I?” When he rolled his head to look at you, you’re reminded once again that he wasn’t like you at all. Far from it. Piercing yellow eyes, blue lips, a mane of fire, these were just the physical traits. Idia was a god, older than you could possibly comprehend, and perhaps wiser than he let on. Despite his blunt and modern way of speaking combined with his lax mannerisms, he was still the Lord of the Underworld. And he could snuff you out with a snap of his fingers. 

Whenever he looked at you a certain way, like he was studying you, reading your very soul, it made a chill travel down your spine and formed a sensation in your stomach that caused you to feel like hurling. You swallowed again, forcing yourself to avoid getting sick right then and there. You didn’t know what he was seeing when he looked at you, and frankly, it was probably best not to know. “If you think I’m a poor excuse for a god, you can say it, you know.” 

Puzzled by the thought that he believed that was your opinion of him, you furrowed your brows, mentally recalling any recent memories that could’ve prompted him to think so. However, none came to mind. You didn’t know whether to reply, or let him continue. Which would bring about punishment. “I never ever thought that…!” 

“Huh…” Standing with his hands at his sides, his shoulders slightly hunched as he faced away from you. There were a few spare moments of a tense awkward silence before he continued, “Or… did you think I was stupid? I knew the whole time. You think I wouldn’t recognize my own imp? Even the one I didn’t really give a damn about?”

All you could do was remain still, as still as a statue. Never had you ever been this frightened before, not when coming so close to the overpowered hero with superhuman strength, or when you were underneath a boulder in the hydra’s gorge, or even when you were tasked with freeing multiple creatures of nightmares beside Ortho. Because yes, while all those beings and myths could’ve caused your demise in various horrendous and grotesque ways, Idia was on a different level. If he so wished, he could revive you and kill you again and again, trapping you in a continuous cycle of death and misery for all time. 

Lifting one hand where small whirls of weak smoke swirled at his bony fingertip, the small cloud resembled the gray murky depths of the river of souls where the dead were the waves on the surface. He continued, while brooding, “When I plucked the original out of the river and revived them, I did it for one reason and one reason only. For Ortho, to keep him company. I didn’t need anyone trying to annoy me, and the prototype was no particular help, you’re more like deadweight since Ortho can do your tasks all on his own. But he wanted a friend, and who am I to deny it? I chose the original’s soul for flat and basic little traits. A dim, sorry, subservient little mortal. Except…” 

When he glanced over his shoulder at you, his yellow eyes glowed dimly and you couldn’t discern his expression due to how the angle concealed the lower half of his face. Those eyes alone made you want to jump right into the river of souls, but you didn’t want to test the theory if he actually forcefully dragged you out of certain doom. What was fairly certain was that the Lord of Underworld could most definitely create fates worse than anything the judges could’ve conjured up just for you. The only thing you could do was pray that he would be merciful. “Please, believe me, I didn’t want to lie to you––!” 

“pLeAsE, bELiEvE mE, i DiDn’T wAnT tO LiE tO yOu.” Idia openly mocked you, even copying the way you would anxiously grip your hands together as if in a thoughtful prayer begging for mercy. “But you did! Lucky for you, I didn’t care for the original. And, it’s a hassle getting a new imp so you got stuck with me, just your luck. Poor sorry little imp, I almost feel bad for you. Almost. Not really though.” 

He… didn’t care? Was this mercy? Or some odd form of it? He made no movements to end you right then and there, not seeming to be debating it.

“I’m not stupid.” He clarified with a scowl, and that’s what made you realize that he was cross because you underestimated his intellect. Were gods truly so prideful? Maybe. It seemed so. And in the grand scheme of things, maybe he didn’t care because this didn’t affect his plans in the slightest. Why would a powerful immortal who rules over the dead’s domain, care for a human? “I don’t care who you really are, as long as you stick to the script and make Ortho happy. Got it? If you do what you're told, you’ll live.”

“O-Oh…” That wasn’t even half as much as painful of a punishment as you expected it to be. Just don’t underestimate him for his pride’s sake, and keep a solid friendship with Ortho. Noted. Those you could definitely do. “Um, thank you so so so much for sparing me your, uh… your most lugubriousness…?” 

His nose crinkled and he frowned at the horrid attempt at a title. “Ew, stop that, don’t be weird. I’m not gonna kill you, that should be obvious even to someone stupid. And don’t even think of calling me Lord, that’s complete overkill. This isn’t the Dark Ages. Just use my name, it’s not like I’m gonna smite you for it. Just Idia Shroud.”

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

It was said that there were five stages of grief, and you had experienced all five since arriving. From the tiny voice in the back of your mind denying the reality of the situation, to the current state of acceptance to which you had no choice but to arrive at. With each passing night as you watched the planets in the sky like stars grow closer and closer to aligning, it counted down like the doomsday clock to your demise. If Heraclea didn’t lose by then, you would fail. Idia would never claim Mount Olympus, and you’d meet a terrible end. 

As you stared up at the planets, seeing they were so close to a perfect straight line, you became lost in thought. It became common now, where you would stare off into space, wondering if death would come to claim you and fearing in what form it may come, only to be forcefully brought back from that eternal slumber should Idia continue to breathe. Going over constant plans and ideas, that led to deadends. Because the hero was destined to win, she had the smarts and strength to do any feat once thought impossible. The only hope brought you back to the original plan, keep Meg safe once Idia struck a deal with Heraclea in which the love interest’s safety hangs in the balance. 

That was the only way. 

“Are you even listening?” Ortho inquired, slightly annoyed that you had just ignored everything he was saying. Hovering off the ground, he floated upwards a bit to be in your line of vision as your head remained tilted up to the night sky. The artificially generated blue flames on his hair swayed lightly, casting a gentle blue glow and the shadows outlined his metallic horns. Tilting his head, he stared at your eyes filled with despair just staring off into nothingness. “Helloooo? Come on, there’s no time for mental breakdowns!” 

When he waved a hand in front of your nose, you blinked, snapping out of that despondent daze as you slowly turned your attention to the young boy in front of you. Seeing his face that looked similar to Idia was not doing anything to help your current state. “H-Huh…?” 

How did he even find you at one of Idia’s temples in the human realm? You had no idea. It was the easiest place to get to, considering all of the Lord of the Underworld’s mortal-made temples were accessible through the doors of his abode. Not that there were many of the temples, and the majority of them were abandoned inside the hollow cavities or caverns they were constructed in. 

Ortho furrowed his eyebrows, as he floated back down towards the earth, now only hovering a few spare inches off of the ground. Whatever he was talking about before you began paying attention, was clearly no longer the topic of the conversation as he gazed at you quizzically. “What were you thinking about?” 

Was it really worth telling him? Ortho had constantly insisted that you were supposed to be working as a team, and for a while, you had. While he was an android boy, he was incredibly dependable. He possessed abilities and skills you couldn’t even dream of achieving, and if anyone could help you while Idia dealt with leading the titans, it would be Ortho. However, who’s to say that you wouldn’t immediately be tossed to the side once you served this greater purpose as a step to assist the Lord of the Underworld in reaching the peak? 

Your fellow imp gazed at you, blinking those wide yellow eyes that appeared so innocent. But you knew what Ortho was capable of, what he was willing to do for his elder brother. Lie, cheat, trick, murder–– and that was only scratching the surface. Well, maybe not outright lying, because he seemed so adamantly against it. “You can tell me. We’re friends, right? I’ve never had a real friend before, besides my brother, but friends are supposed to trust each other, right?” Gravity pulled him down, until he was right beside you, seated on a crumbling fallen column that was sideways on the floor. Small fingers reached for your long sleeve, slowly gripping it. 

“Right…” You exhaled, still debating whether this was a good idea or not. Part of you worried if he could even detect if you were lying, and so you decided it better not to risk it. At the worst, you’d be discarded and had to survive in an apocalyptic-like world once the titans were freed, but in the best case scenario, you would actually manage to succeed in assisting the antagonist gain a happy ending. The latter of which would effectively grant you a good ending as well. “T-These plans you’ve been making with Idia haven’t exactly been working, but… I think I know how this’ll play out in the end. Everything that’s happening now is almost exactly like a story I knew from my home.” 

“It is?” He brightened up, looking downright giddy as he jumped a few inches on nothing but air. Those wide yellow eyes of his that glowed like headlights, peered at you intensely as he exclaimed, “And you never told me! Well, how does it end? We could use this to our advantage in defeating the hero! With your help, we can’t possibly lose! This came at a perfect time, just as we were running out of pawns to use.” 

With your hand so close to your mouth, you were debating whether to bite your nails out of pure anxiety or just clamp your fingers over your lips to shut yourself up. Instead, you opted to dig your nails into your palm and forced yourself to open your mouth. The words came out slow, like the painfully laggard pace of dripping water. “We’re supposed to lose…I’ve t-thought of everything to try and stop this story from dragging on for this long, but we keep underestimating Heraclea. That’s the issue. We forget that even though she’s mortal, she still has part of the strength she would have if she were still a goddess. So there’s no beating her, at least not fairly…” 

Ortho leaned closer, hanging onto every single word. His little metal hands continued to cling to your sleeves. A silence lingered for a moment as he processed your words. “Okay… so we have to cheat…? I dunno…” 

“Not exactly. We’re just… leveling the playing field. Yeah… That’s all we’re doing.” Nodding slowly, as if trying to convince yourself of this. Despite the Lord of the Underworld’s uncaring demeanor and your fellow imp’s rather cruel ways, they were both honest. Idia kept his word, and Ortho told truths. “Right before the titans will be freed, the Lord of the Underworld discovers that the hero’s weakness isn’t a physical one, it’s an emotional one. That… weakness is Meg. So the Lord of the Underworld pretends to kidnap the love interest, and offers a deal to the hero. I-If the hero agrees to give up their strength for twenty-four hours, Meg will be freed.” 

Like a lightbulb going off in his head, his blue fire hair sparked for a moment as he straightened up and exclaimed, “That would work! But, wait a minute, if that’s the real story, then what happens so we lost…?” 

“I was just getting to that.” You assured him, your voice remaining quiet as if afraid of being overheard by any living creature in the vicinity. The temple was abandoned, and they were the only two living things for miles. “T-The hero agrees to the deal, under one condition. If their loved one is hurt, then the deal is off.” 

It clicked in his mind as he nodded in understanding. “Ohhhhhh…” The cogs turned in his mind, weighing the meaning of your words and what was supposed to happen. “You mean Meg dies…? That’s okay!” 

Your jaw dropped at the mirth in the android boy’s tone. Wasn’t he supposed to be upset? Saddened? Did he not care at all for the human they occasionally worked with? It was true, half the time he was away on business trying to persuade other beasts to submit to Idia. “W-What? I thought–– I thought you would care!” 

“Not really. It’s not really a secret that Meg doesn’t care about me or Idia! He’s kinda mean to me, actually…” He sighed, averting his gaze as he murmured, “Mortals are so complicated. I can’t understand them, and my brother says they’re all the same! Well, almost all of them. I get you, and Idia actually likes your company. Which is saying something, because he can’t stand any of the mortals he’s ever spoken to. It’s actually kinda concerning because all he talks about is you and how sad and miserable you are, but he doesn’t mean it in a hateful way. He just says it’s annoying how you get stuck in people’s heads. But we’re getting off track.” 

Wait, wait, no, go back on that track. Why was Idia tolerating your company? Not that it was a bad thing, as it allowed you to live longer than most folk who had ever encountered him. It was a tad worrisome, and you couldn’t help but visibly grimace. 

“All we need to do is make sure Meg lives and remains without a scratch for those twenty-four hours, right? That’s easy enough! We can knock him out cold or have Cerberus watch over him. Either way, with us on watch, it won’t really matter! We’ll be free!” 

You watch him yell with glee as he jumps high into the air, until he is several stories in the sky as he laughs. What a sight this would have been to any other mortal nearby, who may have had the misfortune of stumbling across two imps at the abandoned shrine of their master. When he began to plummet back to earth instead of gracefully floating back down, you nearly stumbled on your own two feet with your arms automatically outstretched to try and catch him. 

Just before you could trip and fall flat on your face, his hands caught your sleeve and prevented you from taking a nasty fall. He remained hovering off the ground, as per usual. Those brilliant blinding eyes gazed at yours as he exclaimed, “We’ll finally be happy! Idia and me, and now you! We can make history, you’ll be the first mortal to ever live on Mount Olympus! Isn’t that great? Of course, if the air pressure becomes an issue affecting your breathing pattern, I’m sure Idia would be glad to come up with a solution. He really liked your company when you two went to observe our target, you know. He won’t admit it, but I think you being there helped him calm down when Heraclea stopped the eruption at the volcano.” 

“Uh, well––” 

“Oh! You know what I want to do as soon as we get to Olympus?” Times like these when he jumped from topic to topic so eagerly, and remained so high in spirits is what reminded you that he was supposed to be child-like. It was easy to see him as an innocent youth, if you ignored the disturbing things he said every now and then. “I heard that Hermes has some really cool accessories. We should take them! And don’t forget Ares! I’ve always wanted to see his helmet and hold the legendary sword he wields! There’s so many things we can do once we’re up there, and we’ll have all the time in the world! And––” 

All you could think of as your fellow imp blabbered on and on about relics he wished to steal from other gods and how he planned to spend his time having fun with his brother and yourself, was that you really just put your entire existence in his little metal hands. Only one sentence ran through your mind as you stared slack-jawed at him.

I’m going to fucking die…

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

They were right on track towards the implosion of destined failure, but all it would take would be one sharp turn, and unexpected change, to send them veering off course. It was surprisingly easy for Ortho to convince Idia to send out Meg on a quest to find Heraclea’s weakness. Although you knew the answer already, and by extension so did Ortho, Idia did not. And you were not about to tell him your whole life story and how you knew details that others should not know of this world and those living in it. 

Now it was only a matter of waiting, waiting for the confirmation to arrive that Meg was the key to the hero’s destruction. To occupy the hours, you looked upon a scroll Ortho had brought along to the mortal realm. Seated atop the roofs of grand estates to avoid being seen and questioned, it was the perfect spot as the duo of imps were to await further instruction from the god. 

On the scroll you held, were various faces of monstrous beasts. Titans. The ones that stood out the most, were the four at the very bottom, with a fifth not too far behind. Those you recognized, and would be the ones to lay siege on Mount Olympus: Lythos, Hydros, Pyros, Stratos, and Arges. The last of which would be the one to kill the hero while she was in her weakened state. 

“This one… This one-eyed freak is the one we send to kill Heraclea.” You point out the image of the cyclops, able to distinguish it from the other titans. Unlike the others composed purely of the four elements, this titan was several tons of pure mass. A creature of unnatural proportions and unrivaled size, which would serve as a worthy opponent to the hero when she didn’t have her superhuman strength to protect her. 

Ortho gazed at the scroll, paying no mind to the garden below where Meg was eventually supposed to emerge with knowledge of Heraclea’s weakness. Focusing his optic sensors on the simple painted image of the titan Arges, he was still in thought before nodding in approval. “It’s true that Arges is a worthy titan with the capability of wrecking havoc and killing numerous humans, but why him specifically? If the hero won in the story as you said, wouldn’t we want a different titan? I believe that Pyros would be most effective! His elemental body composed primarily of lava will easily burn through human flesh.” 

“Well, yes… That’s a very vivid way of thinking about it.” How in depth was Ortho picturing the death of the hero? It almost seemed as if he wanted to send the most destructive of them all just to cause her more suffering, even if his way of thinking was logical. You shook the image out of your mind as you explained meekly, “Arges comes close to killing the hero. If he had taken things seriously instead of treating it as a game and delaying death, he would’ve won. But he didn’t, because he was toying with his victim… and because the hero’s trainer returned to their aid in those last moments.”

Either way, you were damning a person, a good person, to a horrible death. It wouldn’t be swift or painless, and far from merciful. The titans would have centuries of pent-up rage to release violently, and if miraculously Arges was defeated, Ortho wouldn’t allow the protagonist to slip away with their life. The imp beside you was far from the helpless little devils that appeared in the story, he could be just as lethal as his elder brother. And yet, despite the guilt you could feel slowly building up the more you thought about it, the more often you repeated to yourself: she wasn’t real. If you could fully convince yourself of that, that despite her bright blue eyes and smile as warm as sunshine, she was just a character from a story, then the guilt of her approaching death wouldn’t faze you too much. 

The dangers in this world were real, the enemies were real, Ortho was real, Idia was real. She was not. Even if that felt like a lie, it was a lie, it didn’t matter. If you thought of her as a simple pawn in a game, then the burden of your sin wouldn’t be able to permeate throughout your consciousness. It was just like flicking a piece off a board. It was that simple. Because it was either her, or you. The choice was obvious. 

As Ortho peered down at you with his big bright eyes, he continued floating in the air as he inquired, “Hey, hey, when we get there, I call dibs on Ares’ helmet and sword. You can have Hermes’ stuff, okay?” 

“That’s fine with me…” Frankly, you didn’t care for tinted glasses, legendary swords, or the helmet of a god. 

In the midst of their conversation and planning, a swirling cloud of mist like a portal appeared a few feet away. From it, came the familiar voice of the god, “Imps, time’s almost up.” 

Going through the cloud was one experience you could never quite get accustomed to. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like a cold dead wind knocked the air out of your lungs as it transported you to a new location each and every time. This time, the destination was a place directly outside of a largely empty colosseum underneath gray skies that was bound to brew a storm. 

“Meg is out of commission, he got too soft. But, he’s there to lure his little hero. Humans are so predictable, so naive, no offense.” Idia’s gaze traveled over to you, only offering a half-hearted shrug and a crooked small grin as a weak apology, if it could even be deemed an apology at all. 

To which you nodded, not really affected by his choice of words. “None taken.” 

“Ortho, you take care of the pegasus and the satyr. Will you?” The immortal lord’s yellow eyes darted over to his brethren, the young imp straightening in attention upon hearing new commands. “Clip its wings, do whatever you have to, I don’t care what it is. I want them out of the way. Join us whenever you’re done.” 

“Understood!” Ortho chirped, watching as his elder brother turned away to slowly walk towards the colosseum. Your fellow imp’s eyes met yours and he must’ve remembered your warning of the impact the satyr could have on the plot, because he used his ability to generate a holographic disguise of the satyr over himself. With one swift slicing motion over his neck, his head rolled to the side in a disgustingly almost realistic spillage of blood before the holographic flickered off. The imp winked at you, far too cheerful for someone planning to commit murder in the next upcoming minutes. In the next moment, he was gone through a cloud of black smog. 

The gruesome image was stuck in your mind as you were left to follow the Lord of the Underworld, jogging to catch up with him and walk at his side as he approached the coliseum. The closer and closer you got to the towering arena, the more the thought dwelled at the forefront of your mind. You would be responsible for not one death, not just extinguishing the burning bright protagonist, but others. Not just Meg, or the satyr, or the pegasus, but countless other souls. Who knew how many mortals the titans would crush, freeze, burn, shred to bits and pieces? So many lives all to save yours. 

Just remember, it was a story. They were just fictional characters, they didn’t even have any relevance to the plot. Background characters whose faces and voices blurred together, whose names would go unheard. That’s all they were. 

“Hey. You nervous or something?” 

Immediately you were yanked out of your intense train of thought, as if pulled out from beneath the surface of water. The god seemed to have picked up on the nervous tics and the grimaces on your face.

“You look like you’re gonna puke… Cut it out. I’m the one who should be nervous, seriously.” 

Gripping the fabric of your clothing to prevent any unnecessary movement, you swallowed thickly and nodded stiffly. Just walk. All you had to do was walk beside him, act as an escort and keep up with him when approaching the towering open entrances to the largely abandoned coliseum where one could faintly pick up on the sound of clanging metal dumbbells in a steady rhythm. 

“Sorry…” You choke out, suppressing any sort of queasy sensation. Think of golden gates and feather-stuffed clouds softer than any tempur-pedic, not the destruction and trail of blood that would lead to paradise at the peak. “Just–– the hero we’re walking towards can probably crush my skull between her biceps without even really trying. And, I kinda prefer my skull intact, you know?” 

“No, I don’t know.” Idia rolled his eyes, seemingly not very much in agreement. Then again, he had little to fear when it came to actually being harmed. Yes, Heraclea could do some damage to him, but he couldn’t die. He was immortal. 

The pair stopped at the arching entranceway moments before entering the threshold. 

“You know what I do know? Rumors.” Of course he knew things. Ortho constantly kept him up to date on the latest happenings, and of course his pawn that fit in best with other mortals, Meg, had kept him informed about anything important in the mortal lands. “A certain little bird told me something interesting before he turned traitor. That a strapping gal, who, I dunno, rides a pegasus and listens to a satyr, has been on the lookout for a small kinda pathetic-looking mortal with horns. Turns out that your crying face made a crying mark on her from that day in the gorge.” 

She knew you. You didn’t know whether to cry or scream. What was worse? The hero with the strength of a thousand suns or the god that reigned over the dead? 

The god. The god was easily the most frightening one, you decided as you realized that Idia was staring at you intensely again. It caused your breath to stop, your hairs standing on end. The immortal looked as if he just wanted to smite you right then and there, reducing you to nothing but ash. For something that was beyond your control. 

“I have got to say, you have this talent, a curse, and it makes me want to literally just––” Idia tightly clenched his fist, pursing his blue lips as he decided against going into detail. To simply put it, words like crush, tear, destroy, or pulverize into atoms would not be able to adequately put his thoughts into words. “Turns out, it’s not just me that notices. You have this strange agonizing little ability to just… worm your way into someone’s mind, and not stop. It festers like an open wound. Infecting it, making the thoughts grow more and more, worse and worse, increasing every day.”

In your seconds of stunned and petrified silence, Idia peered down at you. 

His eyes glowed in the shadows under the stone arches. The smoke at his feet brushing against your legs like tendrils of gray wisps. Abruptly he remarked, “I think I finally realized why I find you so annoying.” 

“What––” 

“You’re used to death and choose the logical routes that are deemed as heartless. Maybe in your previous life you were seen as odd and somewhat of an outcast, like us.” 

Previous life. What exactly did he mean by that? How much exactly did he know, but chose not to explicitly state? Was he assuming you had a previous life here in his plane of existence, this story? Or did he somehow know that you once had a life elsewhere, before being damned into this role by trial? 

Slowly your eyes traveled over to him, only to see that he was already glancing down at you with those glowing yellow eyes. The eyes of death himself. Unsmiling, unfeeling, unstable. The breath of life was frozen in your throat as he tilted his head slowly to one side, his gaze never leaving yours, not blinking even once. “Do you blame yourself?” 

“H-Huh…?” 

“Well, it’s common for you simple mortals in this type of situation you’re in to feel a type of guilt, before and after what has been done.” The number of mortal souls he must’ve seen of the damned were immeasurable. The good, the bad, the worst. All of it he had witnessed. Guilt. Was that what you were feeling now, at the thought of sacrificing others for your own survival as you manipulate the story? 

The breath lodged in your throat escaped like a short stifled gasp. “I… I don’t––” 

“I see it all the time, you’re no exception.” Idia turned to face you fully. The Lord of the Underworld was looking down at you, the smoke at his feet curling around your legs. It was cold lifeless air, sending a chill from your toes all the way to your neck. Those eyes felt like the worst pair of eyes in the entire world–– no, the entire universe. It felt like he could read you inside out, deciphered every bit of your soul like code. “Mortals will invent blame, trying to shove the burden on others and create an excuse. When in reality…” 

Reality. This was reality now, at least for you. A reality you had attempted to shape into your will, into a satisfactory ending where things would be carefree in a heavenly paradise above the clouds. And yet… what did it cost? Lives? What did that matter? But a portion of your sanity. 

“It’s completely out of your control.” 

The Lord of the Underworld returned his sights ahead, to where he would encounter the beloved daughter of the god who damned him to an eternity of drudgery in the most secluded realm in this plane of existence. As he walked, it felt like his fleeting wisps of smoke lingering after each footstep, compelled her forward. 

Just before the shadows of the arching columns ended, they stopped on the edge of darkness where they could watch. Straight ahead was Heraclea, her back turned to them. She was lifting a bar with huge thick metal weight plates that likely each weighed about the same as a house, yet she so effortlessly lifted them up and down with the same hands that strangled the most fearsome beasts to death.

Idia stood close at your side, keeping his fingers folded in front of him as he stood slightly slouched, watching the hero with utter disdain before his gaze traveled to you out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move his head. Instead of that same type of hateful loathing he felt towards the protagonist, he looked at you with something else, something less evil and more gentler but equally as chilling. 

In an instant, he was gone in a puff of smoke, his voice seeming to echo all around you and even within the confines of your skull. Low and quiet, but haunting. “You know you were never in control, right?” 

You were never in control. 

You could only watch almost lifelessly as Idia appeared in front of the protagonist. Everyone, everything, began to sound so far away. The crackling fire of the torches on the wall, the voice of the suspicious immortal and wary mortal in the distance, the low howling of the wind beginning to pick up, each one fell on deaf ears. 

That one parting line, just five words, made you question everything that you had worked for thus far. Again, there was the question: how much Idia know? Have you been played for a fool? For all your days here, you had been through hell and back, quite literally, doing his bidding in the hopes to exploit the situation and create an ending that suited your preferences. Had he known this, or was it his choice of words messing with your unstable mind? Just as he insinuated that your presence was permeating throughout his mind, this god was driving you mad! 

The plot appeared to be progressing as intended, the Lord of the Underworld attempting to trick the Hero into a deal they could not refuse. When Idia snapped his dark bony fingers, instead of seeing plum colored garbs and wavy brown locks of Meg, you felt that dreadful sensation of the cold dead wind knocking the air out of your lungs as you suddenly found yourself thrust into the spotlight of the center colosseum. 

All eyes, the two pairs in the vicinity, were on you. You felt yourself go pale. There was a reason Idia had mentioned the fact that the hero knew you existed, and this was it. It was a warning, a hint to his plans. Somehow, someway, the hero cared, and it should have never happened. Why wasn’t Meg here instead? 

The hero’s bright blue eyes sparked to life with familiarity. Any mild irritation she expressed while interacting with the immortal were quickly dashed and replaced by genuine concern. “It’s you––” 

Immediately your gaze traveled to the Lord of the Underworld, who appeared irked by the mere presence of the protagonist that has gotten in the way of his every attempt. Idia hardly even looked at you, even as the words came rushing out past your lips, “This wasn’t––” 

Those cold wisps of smoke gathered, materializing into a rope-like object that restricted your movements. It binds your wrists together, covering your mouth to prevent any sort of noise from leaving your throat. 

This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Why was this happening? 

Just before you could hit the dirt ground, the hero’s warm hands inches away from your flesh as she extended her arms out to catch you–– snap! The snap of Idia’s fingers caused that dreaded cold lifeless air to hit you like a slap as you were whisked away from strong safe arms. 

For a few sparse seconds, you were in complete and utter darkness. It was cold. Just you and your thoughts, with one more prominent than others: Idia had used you. Toying with you like one of the pawns on his board, pinning you against the unbeatable foe he was currently facing. The god utilizing you as if you were the secret ace up his sleeve, but why? What was stopping Heraclea from decimating you just as she had to his other pawns? 

Again, you heard the snap, and you were back in the colosseum. Rapidly you scanned your surroundings, growing more and more disorientated with each snap of his fingers that tossed you back and forth from space to space until you couldn’t tell right from left. What you could still detect was the solid surface beneath you, like those uncomfortable rigid stone benches where the audience would spectate the bloody battles. 

“–– that’s the trade off. You give up your strength for twenty-four hours, specifically the next twenty-four hours, and the mortal you’ve been looking for is as free as a bird.” Idia prattled on, speaking quite rapidly whether out of habit, out of the jitters, or due to the time-crunch, but it could’ve been all three fueling his fast-talk. “I mean, you do want them safe, don’t you? That’s the mortal you’ve been looking for, isn't it? The one you’ve spotted in multiple cities, right? Sorta small and meek, the distinct horn-things they got going on there, sad little face, kinda hard to miss ‘em.” 

Heraclea had been looking for you. The hero had spotted you in cities–– and the only time you were in civilization was when you were tasked to set up the disasters and accidents that the hero would come to face. Were you sloppy and was this accidental, an opportunity the Lord of the Underworld decided to take full advantage of? Or was this always his intention from the very beginning? 

How many times had Heraclea spotted you to grow attached, at least enough to the extent that Idia felt he could safely bet on the hero risking her divine strength to spare you? Each moment flashed through your mind, as you dashed through alleyways and backroads, with the help of Ortho, each time setting off a disaster or a beast to challenge the hero. While Ortho had his strange metallic body which levitated and his holograms to disguise himself, you only had your own two legs to run and a cloak to conceal yourself. How many of those times of sneaking past corners, weaving through crowds, disappearing behind buildings, had Heraclea seen? So engrossed in these thoughts, that you practically missed the intense verbal exchange between the two. 

While Heraclea was naive, she wasn’t downright stupid, and Idia merely wanted this to hurry along to remain on schedule. 

“––What do you owe these mortals, hm? This is the mortal you’ve wanted to save! Them and their sorry eyes.” In one swift movement, Idia was beside you, his thin fingers forcing you to look straight at the protagonist. 

You couldn’t scream, you couldn’t yell, you couldn’t cry. How different would this have turned out, if instead, you had risked turning to Heraclea for help in the very beginning? 

Those blue eyes, the kindest blue eyes in the world, peered at you from afar. Was that pity in her eyes as she looked at you? 

The god pinched your cheeks between your fingers, as he made you look at her. Really look at her, the woman which you were planning to sacrifice to save your own skin. The woman who was currently contemplating on saving you at her own expense, even if she had no idea that you had aided in the countless attempts to kill her thus far. It’s like Idia wanted you to really get a good look of her before she was gone. “Are you for real going to look straight at that miserable little face and say no? I mean, talk about a letdown. I thought you cared for them––” 

“Stop it!” Cutting him off, the hero’s soft gaze at you turned to frown once she focused on the pale immortal. It only took one second. Just one second for her to cave, just as what was intended. You feared being labeled as an enemy by her, but apparently, Idia did not feel the same sort of trepidation. “Swear. Swear that they’ll be safe from any harm.” 

Finally letting go, Idia shrugged nonchalantly as he slowly approached Heraclea. He didn’t plan on harming them anyways. This worked out even better than what was imagined. Now, there was absolutely no use for Meg, no need to keep him from harm when it was his own imp that had to be shielded. An imp that risked the lives of others to keep themself safe, and an imp that the Lord of the Underworld wouldn’t allow any harm to befall. “Yeah, fine, whatever. This mortal here remains safe, otherwise you get your strength right back. Everyone goes home happy. M’kay, deal?” 

As soon as he outstretched his pale hand, his black-tinted fingers reaching forward, Heraclea eyed his appendage with suspicion. As if she half expected the black on his fingertips to be some sort of deadly poison that would infect her as soon as she touched his hand. Her blue eyes glanced at you for a brief moment. 

“Hey, you hear me? Look, you wouldn’t get it, but I’m on a schedule. I need an answer, like, now.” For a flash, a quick moment, his normally calm blue mane appeared to spark red and flicker higher and further across his shoulders.

Again, the hero looked at you. For all she knew, you were an innocent soul held hostage by a god. Yet you were far from innocent. 

“Going once.” 

You were watching the valiant woman practically seal her certain doom.

“Going twice––” 

A fate in which you helped form and doing nothing to stop it. 

“Alright…!” Heraclea looked at her own calloused hand with apprehension, but thrust it forward before any hesitation could kick in. 

As soon as their hands connected, Idia gave an eager toothy grin. You could only watch as the life and energy was practically drained out of the hero as she sank slowly to her knees like being pulled down by intense crushing gravity. As soon as they let go, it was like seeing the color fade from her. Her healthy glowing tan was reduced to an ashy almost-gray hue, her eyes dimmed as they lost their spark of energy, and she could barely even stand on her own two feet. 

Idia no longer held any regard for the now simple mortal, not even sparing her so much as a glance as a wave of his fingers caused the hefty weight she had been training with, to float before crashing against her, practically tossing her to the other side of the colosseum. 

You had no idea if she were alive or dead, or nearly dead but left just breathing to receive torment from the titans that would be released only momentarily. There wasn’t even any time to ask or to check her pulse, as Idia snapped and suddenly your restraints dissipated into thin air. 

“See, didn’t I tell you, you get into people’s heads?” He remarked far too casually. With another snap, there was chariot-like contraption summoned. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the rubble the hero had landed in. You waited, searching, anticipating some sort of movement. A sign of life. 

“Don’t look at her anymore.” Upon seeing this, Idia frowned deeply. The tips of his fiery hair sparked warm hues, the flames growing taller and casting longer shadows. “Why are you still looking at her?” A final movement of his hand had his fingers land on your chin, keeping your head in place so his glowing eyes were peering right down at you. The worst eyes in the world. “Don’t wanna be late now, after all our hard work. If there’s anything left of Heraclea, we’ll have the titans handle the remains so there won’t even be bones to bury. You wanted this, didn’t you? Don’t let the guilt eat you alive now, not when you knew what you were getting into. Usually I’m the downer, but I don’t get why you look so shocked. I’m granting you a front row seat to this cosmic takeover biz, my Puny Little Imp.”

[chavisory]

"Maybe it’s because our political discourse swings between deranged and abhorrent on a daily basis and we would like to combat our feelings of powerlessness by insisting on moral simplicity in the stories we tell and receive. Or maybe it’s because many of the transgressions that flew under the radar in previous generations — acts of misogyny, racism and homophobia; abuses of power both macro and micro — are now being called out directly. We’re so intoxicated by openly naming these ills that we have begun operating under the misconception that to acknowledge each other’s complexity, in our communities as well as in our art, is to condone each other’s cruelties."

[ozzgin]

I just watched The First Omen at the cinema and you may go ahead and cuff me for blasphemy, but…

Devil x Reader

You have been chosen by the Cult as the one to carry their ungodly plan after many failed attempts. This time it was a success, yet not for the reasons they might expect. The Devil has his eyes on you.

Content: female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, blasphemy, violence, horror, a non-consent scene!, based on The First Omen (2024); image from the promotional poster

Why you, of all people? You're not particularly devoted to religion, nor do you stand out in terms of virtuousness. Or lack of, for that matter. Alas, their reasons remain unknown.

What's certain is that you woke up one day and found yourself strapped to a foreign bed, staring into a ceiling you didn't recognize. You weren't alone. Around your helpless form stood men and women, dressed in black and wearing a solemn smile. Your forehead received a gentle, encouraging stroke from the hand of the priest. The scent of chrism invaded your nostrils.

You begged them to release you. The older man spoke softly in your ear. "You are serving a greater purpose. It is all in the name of God." God? Purpose? You rolled your eyes back and gazed upon the large painting hanging behind you. Virgin Mary and her blissful smile and stretched out hands felt like a mockery.

The holy image vanished as a black cloth was nonchalantly draped over your face. You felt the rope tighten around your neck and begun gasping for the scarce air barely making it through the thick canvas. A crescendo of muffled chants, and the room went abruptly quiet. Had everyone left?

Then you heard it. That profane growl, causing the entirety of your body to shiver in repugnance and terror. You trashed, and pulled, and screamed, to no avail. A clawed hand rested on your bare stomach, then a second one traced the rest of your body. You laid limp, vision blurred as the room swayed in tandem with the sacrilegious act.

You'd been defiled by a Beast. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your bed. Your hopes of it being a mere nightmare were shattered the moment you lifted your gown and noticed the deep scratches, the monstrous prints left on your skin, and the hollow sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your body had been tampered with, and something was growing out of your misfortune. A vile blight, throbbing with life within the comfort of your flesh.

You spent the months haunted by voices and visions. The grotesque, horned Creature would frequently reappear in your mind, exhausting all other thoughts. Such a heavy, imposing presence. It wouldn't let you forget, not even for a second: you belonged to Him, and He would soon return to retrieve you. The mother of His child, the object of His adoration. Was such a thing even conceivable?

You prayed to be left alone, yet the Cult naturally longed for its promised gift, bound to come back eventually. And so, once more, you were facing the people who caused your despair. "We've come for the child", the priest explained, glancing at your obvious, bulging belly. The clawed hand framing it was still a fresh wound that never healed, almost as an ominous warning: this body was owned by a jealous God.

Your trembling hands revealed a pocketknife. This time, you were prepared. The group took a moment to observe your daring gesture, then proceeded to approach you with calculated steps, with newfound resolve. Would you be able to keep them away? Their intentions were clear: you were in possession of the Antichrist, and they needed to secure this immense power.

The ground shook, and everyone froze. You glanced at the altar painting, the same one that witnessed your corruption. Virgin Mary remained with an unfaltering smile. From behind the ornate frame, large, horrid hands creeped out. A travesty of everything Holy. The priest gasped and quickly threw his hands in prayer. This was not part of the plan. This was not meant to happen.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis-" he began, but his voice was cut short. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest with a terrible grimace. The nun next to him let out a scream before she was pushed away by an invisible force. Her body hit the wall with a loud, wet sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. You stared at the massacre unfolding before you, devoid of any fear. Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew you'd be safe.

An enormous shadow emerged from behind the painting, twisting, bending, stalking towards you. Your nose scrunched at the stench of blood. You were the last one standing among corpses. To your surprise, you exhaled deeply, shoulders drooping in comfort. A silent voice murmured in your ear, telling you not to fear. That Father was finally home for you.

Foolish, ridiculous humans. He'd been willing to entertain their petty plans of grandeur, until he met you: your tender, frail body, your innocent soul. How exalting it was to have his way with you. You were meant to be the one. To carry His offspring into the damned world. But not for some trifling reason of a Cult desperate to crawl their way back into control. Their greatest mistake - which led to their demise - was to assume the Devil himself can be controlled, ordered around. He has allowed you the greatest honor of joining him, out of your free will, to sow the seeds of chaos as his beloved mortal.

Thus, he couldn't have possibly allowed anyone to interfere. What you saw that day, in that old, musty underground cavern, was an omen: a bloodbath awaits the one who dares to approach his human.

You look up into the demonic orbs: trenches of madness, obsession, vulgarity, burning holes into you, slurping your very existence with hunger and lust. You are his.

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to receive your transformation, look under the cut to find out what it feels like to transform.

Vampire: You can feel it, slowly changing you since you were first bitten by that creature. You felt stronger at first, not needing to eat, not needing to sleep. It was like the burdens of a human form were lifted from you. The only thing you needed was to drink blood, which isn't that hard to come by. Then the physical transformations began, your body becoming slenderer and more androgynous, until soon you barely are recognizable. One day you wake up and your eyes are pure black, slowly your mouth grows sharp teeth, and special joints and seams in your flesh that allow you to open it into a massive mess of fangs and teeth but close it back up into something humanoid if you want it to. As the last of your humanity goes away, your sex characteristics and body hair entirely disappears, leaving you feeling wonderfully smooth. Perhaps in the past this body would be disturbing to you, you barely look like yourself, but now, looking at yourself and feeling so much more confident, this just feels like you, like what you are meant to be.

Incorporeal: You've lost yourself. You can't feel anything. No skin, no blood, no organs. You can only really sense the vague nature of the room your spirit is inhabiting. If you want to move you just think of yourself as going to that location, and if you want to pick something up you just think of yourself as lifting it. Even your appearance is no more than a sort of hologram, able to be changed at but a thought. You feel strangely comfortable this way. Nothing can hurt you now. It takes a bit of time, you have to focus on how you look a bit to look in a way that feels really you, but it eventually feels way more like you then anything in your old body did. It's weird, your old form just felt like a vessel that you needed, but in leaving it you feel entirely free, like you just don't need that type of body anymore. You look at your old body, lying dead upon the floor, and you can't help but know that that just isn't you anymore.

Lycanthrope: It was slow harnessing the changes. The werewolf who bit you didn't tell you much when she passed on her curse. It's something you can work will, you slowly figured out how to harness small changes, modular yet more modular as time passes on. You can just give yourself the eyes, or ears, or teeth, or feet, if you need to by now. Decide exactly what is wolf and what is human. It's more normal not that you realize how fluid your body is, that every part is just a single state that part can be in and not it's permanent fate. You can choose how much of a wolf you are at any time and that's fine and normal now. And sometimes you like fully being a wolf, like how it feels to run on all fours, how it feels to taste meat freshly on your teeth, how it feels to howl at the moon. You also like being a full human at other times, especially now that that doesn't constrain you anymore. Most of the time you're just something else though. Most of the time you're just you, not wolf or human but something your own.

Cyborg: You can feel parts of your body being cut away. You don't know why but it doesn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Your legs being painlessly sliced off, those legs that hurt when you walked on them. You can feel your torso having it's organs slowly drained out of it, no more stomach pain as you have no more stomach, no more shortness of breath as your lungs become medical waste. Your fat and muscles and bone are cut from your body, leaving your body type null. A mask of sorts is closed over your skull as the skin of your face, a face you were once stuck with for your entire life, is finally taken away. And in your discarded body parts place new mechanical parts are added, and these parts are finally your own, you picked out the designs, you control exactly how they look, the art style that your new body will be drawn in, the form your form will be able to take. And if there's anything you dislike, it can always be replaced, you can't be trapped in your body anymore, and you can't be hurt by it now.

Melted: You can feel your new form, slowly writhing like the slimes you felt before did. You have no distinct parts, no bones, no limbs, no organs. All you have is the form. It feels weird, you see and feel so much differently now it can barely feel like seeing or feeling at all. It's like playing with goo in your hands, but you don't have hands anymore. Slowly but surely, you sculpt yourself a new appearance, allowing your body to be something to thrive in instead of just something to survive within. You can't control your color but everything else is up to you. It's like sculpting, even limbs and heads and eyes are all metaphors when it comes to this new universal substance that is your form. You're not sure how others will see you when you're something so strange, but you like what this means for yourself, at least for now.

Flight: Your arms have slowly been stretched out, each of your fingers longer than your entire arm once was on both hands, and this strange tight skin between them. Your body is strong in some places, but weirdly skinny in others, it all feels so different, so new. Your feet have been changed to work more like hands, now that your arms can't be used to grasp, and walking is no longer as much of a requirement for you. You feel weird, like everything is there, but it's hard to see how it all fits together. Still, now that you do get to fly it's wonderful, seeing the ground below you, seeing the sky above you, feeling so free while you're completely in the air, seeing how impressed everyone is looking at you doing that. Maybe it was worth it. Despite how much it takes getting used to you don't dislike how any of it feels, and despite what some people might think of it, it feels so nice to be able to just go through the air like that without anything restraining you anymore. You wouldn't go back at the very least.

Mind upload: You can't feel anything. But you can see, the image of what you'd expect a computer monitor to display take up the totality of your vision. You can't feel a mouse or keyboard or anything, but you can move the cursor as much as you once could move limbs. If you hadn't asked for this it would seem like the worst of punishments, but this was your desire. You can look at any website you want, and no longer do you have to worry about time, about food, about sleep. You can contact anyone online just as you once did, without any breaks. The mortal world is no longer your worry.

Limbs become longer: You know you won't be like the other giants; you'll be somewhat in-between, you're not sure if you are thankful of that fact or not. It's a lot to deal with either way. You can feel you skin and bone stretching oddly, your arms and legs doubling then tripling in their length. It hurts but you can think of all the ways you won't be human anymore. You won't fit into most spaces; you'll need certain accommodations. But you still want this despite everything that it implies. It feels strange when your torso changes, with your limbs it's just bone that's moving, but with this you can feel your organs extending and changing. Too late to change things now. You wonder how people will see you? Will they be scared? Maybe that's what you want from them now?

Pyromancy: You can feel the burning inside you now. Even when you don't focus on it in any way it's in you, your warmth, your blood always hot, the feeling with every breath that you could shoot out fire. Other people with powers need to learn how to extend them to be actually useful, not you, you had to learn how to keep yours under control. It just feels right, to be able to use fire, to feel the fire as part of your body whenever you pass by any. You find yourself fidgeting with it easily, letting the fire move alongside you, because it's just so natural. You'll light up a bit in your hands, or around your face, in the middle of conversation. It doesn't burn you anymore, it feels good, it feels better than almost anything else you've felt in your life to feel fire on your body now. A few people are afraid, but you try to keep yourself calm. Even so, it feels so good to let it burst out of you, to shoot balls of fire into the air, or breath it from your mouth, it's hard to go a long time without doing something like that. It's not just something you have but it's part of you, it's part of you that was always meant to be there perhaps.

Frog: You slowly feel yourself shrink down. It dawns on you that you're going to change a lot. But you've said your last goodbyes to your humanity either way. You can feel your hair and teeth falling out, your bones reshaping and getting smaller and more delicate. Your biology completely changing. It's a lot to get used to and it all happens within a few seconds. For a moment you're worried you'll lose your human mind, but it just doesn't happen, mentally, emotionally, you're entirely the same as you always were. But you don't have to worry about human things anymore. Frogs don't have to work jobs, or pay taxes, or pay rent, you're allowed to finally just be. When you choose to go naked, and walk on all fours, you don't even have to let on that you're human at all anymore. You can exist in peace as long as you exist and forgo the responsibility of human things unless you choose to want them.

Demon: You feel the last of your human blood get replaced with the blood of that creature. It hurts for a moment, but then you stop feeling such pain, you feel a tyle of prowess you haven't felt before. Your eyes glow, you can just feel that they glow now. Your human form begins to change, perfectly growing into your ideal body type and look, and everything feels so right. And then things go beyond just that human form. Horns grow from your head, and your teeth grow sharp, you can always feel them, even when you aren't paying attention, and it makes you feel so very cool. Your reproductive organs are replaced with a neck and head of a serpent, completely genderless, but more able to feel pleasure somehow. Wings grow on your back, and you flex them, feeling the strangeness and wonder of having new limbs and joints. You grow a scorpion like tail from the base of your spine, that equally feels so strange and wonderful and new to move. You can shapeshift back into any human form when you need to, you can even effect what people do and don't recognize as your old self, but this form, your truly demonic form, that's what truly feels like it's you.

Murder: you can kill now. No description needed.