krylng

➵𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟺

when you first enrolled into a brand new high school, you weren’t expecting it to be so different. the new school was only a couple miles away from the other, but the differences were stark. your other school was cheap, and something always seemed to need fixing. it wasn’t exactly as nice as you wanted it to be. but your new school was on the rich side of the neighborhood. after a lucky game of gambling, your father had almost doubled his yearly salary in just one night. now, they acted as if they were always wealthy, deciding to send you to a rich kid school.

the private school was almost double the size of your old worn down school. you could kiss your own clothes and style goodbye, because everyone was required to wear a white blouse and a blue plaid skirt (for girls, at least.) boys were allowed to wear black slacks, and you almost felt a little jealous. at least they didn’t have to wear a long skirt brushing their knees.

however, you noticed other girls trim down their uniforms, and faculty didn’t even bat an eye. that’s exactly what you did as soon as you got the chance: trim down those long clothes. instead of brushing against your knees, the skirt hugged your thighs, half a foot above your hands.

the boring white blouse looked cuter when it was unbuttoned on the collar, and the sleeves were rolled up to your elbows. it seemed to be a trend, since all of the girls wore their uniform like that.

another good thing about this new school was that lunch wasn’t actually terrible. instead of literal goat testicles, they actually served freshly cooked food and vegetables that didn’t even come from a plastic bag.

one thing that was almost the same was the teachers. they were old at both schools, and could be incredibly boring with the same personalities and mindsets: grades come first.

that was until you stepped foot in your last period. the teacher didn’t look old, but he definitely wasn’t around your age. he seemed to be around forty, but he was incredibly handsome. obviously you had good taste, because almost all of the other girls seemed to be drooling. instead of some boring short cropped hair, it was layered to his shoulders, an ebony shade. he was wearing ray bans and carrying a bag, like he just pulled up.

“i hear we have a new student, correct?” a high voice carried throughout the room, and you whipped your head back to his desk to the front of the room. his head was turned to your direction, but you were unable to see his eyes from the darkness of the lenses.

why couldn’t your father have a stroke of luck before another year started? now you were enrolled into a new school in the middle of the year.

“yes, that’s me.” you drawled out slowly, nervous as every pair of eyes seemed to be on you.

there was a beat of silence.

“you must be y/n. well, you may have a seat…” he smoothly stood up from his large office chair, striding over to a desk right next to his. “right here. it’s our only available seat right now.”

you slowly set down your stuff, sliding into the chair. he examined you closely for a few long seconds, before turning his back as he headed back to his own desk.

“okay class, pop quiz. i hope you all did your assigned reading.” his eyes scanned the class, taking in the collective groans of the students behind you.

he set a stack of papers on your desk, before bracing both hands on either side, leaning in, before speaking in a hushed whisper. “pass these down, sweetheart.” his breath smelled like mints, and it was warm.

you obeyed quickly, taking one as you handed the stack to the person behind you. it was strange how there were no desks beside you, only a full row behind you.

he glanced back over at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he smirked. he reached your desk again in two long strides, leaning back in. “you don’t have to do it, honey. you weren’t here.”

there was something about his presence that made you hot and bothered. your heart pounded in your chest, like every other girl who spoke to him.

was it his handsomeness? or was it something else entirely? there was something other than his good looks that made you wet: it was his charisma. he could have any girl he wanted, but he was leaning on his new student’s desk.

he turned around again, and you felt a strange determination to do the pop quiz anyway. it was on the life before the american revolution, something you knew a lot about.

“true or false: the colonists were randomly shot at by british soldiers.”

at least you got an idea that the pop quiz would be relatively easy. you circled false, going down to the next question. you could feel the heat of the teacher’s eyes on you, watching as you did the pop quiz anyway.

the quiz, in total, had ten easy questions you answered in less than five minutes. to your surprise, everyone else finished in double your time. you slowly stood up from your chair as you walked to the turn-in bin on the teacher’s desk.

his eyes followed you the whole way there. he smirked up at you, looking at you like you just shed your shirt and he was hungry.

as you made your way back to your desk, you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. as you turned around, you saw the teacher, that same smirk on his lips.

“you’re a very smart little girl, hmm?” he murmured low and carefully. he kept his distance though, slowly sliding his hand off from you like he made a mistake.

“I’m not little.” you whispered harshly. “i’m almost nineteen.”

he held up his hands in mock surrender, that same playful glint in his eyes. he found you wonderfully entertaining, and he wasn’t ready to sit back down quite yet. but as people began to finish their pop quizzes, he had no choice but to retreat.

the class settled on a low murmur, talking to each other as the last people finished up their quizzes. it didn’t take long though, and the class picked up the volume as everyone was finally finished.

class was almost over, and you would get to go home in ten or so minutes. unfortunately, this new school had seven periods, and your old school had six.

as the bell finally rang, your teacher beckoned you back over to his desk with his index finger. you walked back over, and he looked satisfied with your compliance.

“i noticed that i never formally introduced myself. i’m mr. jackson, but everyone calls me michael.” he drawled out. a teacher that went by his first name was something you never thought you would experience.

“okay…michael.” you tested the name out on your lips. it felt strange calling him by this name instead of his surname. he kept that smirk, looking satisfied that you actually used it.

he slowly stood up, rounded his desk, and stood tall in front of you. “since you’re new…i think i’d like to know more about you.”

the conversation was long and all about you. after five minutes of talking, he led you over to sit at his desk, sitting comfortably in his chair as he leaned against the table. he kept his eyes on you the whole time, listening with undivided attention. it send a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, how he listened so well and his attention was all on you.

“i’m not actually from a rich family,” you admitted, your legs crossed. “my father got lucky in a game at the bar, and won like, almost a million.”

he didn’t laugh at your confession, didn’t think you were some homeless person. he just stood still, scanning your face as you spoke.

he listened carefully as you continued to speak, giving small nods from time to time to show that he heard you.

“I think I should get going soon.” you whispered. there was a flicker of something else that passed in his expression, like he was hesitant to let you go.

you got up from his chair, and he stepped out of the way so you could pass him. you stopped right in front of him, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. no one had ever listened to you like that, and actually care. before you could think about it, your arms were wrapped around him.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

fuck. i’m a horrible person.

here she is, hugging me after a long conversation because she trusts me now, and all i can think about is how her tits press into my torso.

all i can do is try to push these thoughts away, using every fiber of self restraint to not grind against her in that short, tight little skirt. i haven’t even known her for a full day, and i’m over here being a pervert.

I’m horrible, but fuck she feels so good. only eighteen, and she feels like this. this feels illegal, even if it’s not. i need to push her away now, before i do something i’ll regret later, like tightening my grip on her waist.

“thank you for listening.” she whispered, and i could feel the warmth of her breath through the heavy layers of my clothes. i’m wearing a suit, thick enough to not feel every little spark of her against me.

i wonder if she feels this too. if i’m driving her as insane. if she feels a rush of heat every time i shift.

my hands absentmindedly slide down, resting on her hips instead of her waist. my desire is a battle i don’t think i’ll win anytime soon.

but before i can push her away gently, she’s already pulling back, and i don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. it’s like i can finally breathe again, and my heart beats at a normal rate. how can a young woman make me feel like this?

i’m forty-five—of course i’ve had…intimate relations with other women. i probably couldn’t count them all, but there’s a lot. and when i’m holding her, it feels like they were all just practice for her.

“thank you for telling me,” i reply, a little late. “and if you’re ever feeling down like this again, i could give you my number. you can talk to me. whenever.” it’s definitely an excuse to give out my personal number, but i hope she’s naive enough to accept.

i grabbed a red pen from my desk, scribbling down the digits of my number on a clean tissue. i feel so desperate, to the point where I’m writing it on whatever is available. i’d probably write it on my birth certificate if it were here and the closest thing to me, for her. there’s just a magnetic force between us, even if it might be one-sided.

“and if you ever get lonely,” i finish up the scribble of my number. “you can always call me. even if it’s late, or early, i’ll be there.”

i watch as she softly grabs the tissue from my hand. she’s actually taking it from me. i think i was expecting a cold rejection, but this is relieving.

“thank you,” she smiles, showing her pearly whites. i think i need a cold shower. “I’ll see you later, michael.”

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

it’s just gone two in the morning, and you feel like you just chugged three energy drinks. something in the back of your mind has been keeping you from slumber, and it’s irritating you. you have a new day of school ahead of you in six hours, you can’t afford to stay up any longer.

and then you notice a sloppy scribble on a tissue on your nightstand. he did say that you could call him whenever…

before you know it, your phone is flipped open, and your holding it to your ear as it rings. it’s still quiet by the third ring, and you notice your old motorola v265 laying on your dresser. it’s your old cheap phone before you became rich. now, you were holding a motorola razr v3 to your ear.

on the fifth ring, you heard a click from a landline.

“hello?” his voice was an octave lower than you expected, sending heat to your lower belly. “mm, it’s early.”

“hi, michael.” you couldn’t help but smile, and you knew he heard it too. “it’s y/n.”

“mm, baby, what’re you doing up?” the pet name slipped from his mouth, and the heat doubled.

“talk to me.” you whispered, ignoring his question. you needed to hear his sexy voice in that baritone. it was so wrong—he was your teacher.

“hmm, okay.” there was a shift of sheets on the other side, like he was getting comfortable. “i’m pouring a glass of wine right now. it may be my third, honestly.”

he paused to take a sip, you assumed. “mm, well, I’m wearing a white button down right now, unbuttoned at the collar. it’s rather…hot right now.”

the way he was talking to you…it made your hands slip under your pajama shorts. you didn’t even care if it was wrong, because you couldn’t even think.

as he speaks about whatever comes to his mind, your slipping your fingers beneath your folds, feeling how wet you already are from just his voice. you pretend that it’s his fingers, and your eyes roll back. your thumb circles your clit, your hands working fast. you weren’t even bothered about him hearing the sounds, since you played it off by speaking.

it was so wrong, but it felt so right.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

did she think i wouldn’t hear her pleasuring herself? the sound only tells me that she wants me too. as soon as i heard it, i switched my tone tone to be more seductive, wanting to get her off.

god, if anyone else was masturbating to my voice, i’d call them out, maybe even be a little pissed. i don't care if it was thee madonna or someone like that. but when it’s her…

i mean, if she’s doing it, then shouldn’t it be okay if i do it too?

i keep talking about some useless stuff as my free hand rips open the buttons of my slacks. they’re already ruined, since i almost came in my pants the second she said my name. the way her breath hitched when I called her baby…

i pulled my cock from my boxers, closing my eyes as i pretended she was here with me. what would she do? would she want to suck me off, or would she want to be fucked first?

i have to bite my lip to stop myself from groaning into the landline as my hand wraps around it. i’m stuck in a fantasy where every touch of my hand is hers, and she’s the one slowly stroking my dick.

“you okay?” she asks softly, and fuck, I almost cum right then and there.

“mm, yeah, baby. i’m good.” my voice is raspy, and i don’t miss the fast sounds of her working her own clit. it makes me want to rub the tip of my cock on it…

pleasure shoots through my body as i pick up the pace of my own hands, growing bold from pleasure and alcohol. a dangerous combination. “let me hear you work yourself, baby.”

the other line goes dead silent. i can practically hear her embarrassment through the phone. maybe i was too bold for her?

“michael…” i hear her moan.

“that’s it, baby. let me hear ya.” I’m so desperate to hear her, that i don’t even realize how hard I’m gripping myself and how fast i fist.

as soon as i hear her pleasuring herself again, i almost lose it. she sounds so wet and beautiful, just for me.

“just like that.” i’m already breathless. “i want you to pretend it’s me making you feel good.”

she lets out a rather loud cry, muffling it by her hand. i would ask her to stop muffling them, but chances are, she still lives with her parents. and if they found out she was calling and pleasuring herself to her teacher…

“i want you to cum. right now.” her breath hitches at my command, and i feel so dizzy and good. “come on baby, cum for me. cum with me.”

i can hear when she lets go, when that beautiful release washes over her, and i can feel my own warm cum painting my stomach.

as i pant and try to catch my breath, guilt washes over me, and i feel sober again. i just came all over myself to my new student. I’m fucking twenty-seven years older than her, and i acted like a hormonal teenager. the silence in the room is loud, comfortable on her side, awkward on mine.

this was a huge mistake. i never should have gotten so carried away.

this is coming to an end.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

the next day, you had found a group of kids to sit next to. they weren’t the popular group, but they also weren’t the freak group. they were kind of just…unknown, and it was great. they had similar beliefs to you, so it was refreshing.

“have you seen michael today?” you questioned softly to the girl next to you. her name was claire, and she was real sweet.

“michael? he’s over there, i think.” she pointed a manicured nail to a white boy with fluffy blonde hair, flicking a rubber band at one of his friends.

you cocked a brow. “no, not that michael. the teacher?”

“you mean mr. jackson?”

“yes, him.”

her emerald eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked it. “teachers don’t like being called by their first name here.”

she wasn’t making any sense. “doesn’t everyone call him by his first name, though?”

“what? no.”

you never expected that answer. he literally told you that everyone did, and—

it started adding up in your mind.

the way he held you longer than you expected when you hugged him, his large hands sliding to your hips.

the way he wanted to hear you pleasuring yourself.

he didn’t want his students calling him michael.

he wanted you calling him michael.

“shit…when is seventh period?” you ate faster, like it would make seventh period come by quicker.

“fifth period starts in twenty minutes.” claire said between bites of her sandwich.

you wanted to groan aloud. it would be two whole hours until you could see him. you wondered if he was counting down the minutes too.

after lunch, you headed to your next class, which went by way too slow. fifth and sixth period was all just old teachers droning on and on about the same subject for an hour straight.

sitting in sixth period, you nibbled on the eraser of your pencil as your mind began to wander.

in your fantasies, michael caressed your face before bending you over his desk, gripping your waist as his hips hit yours in a fast rhythm. it would smell like sex, and he’d fuck your brains out.

you wondered what it was like. did he have any kinks? what was he like in bed?

the sixth bell finally rang, and you almost ran out of the classroom, before swapping your things at your locker.

the first thing you saw walking in was a group of girls around michael. of course. it was probably common.

you met his eyes, and he looked away.

maybe he was shy from last night? maybe he was just trying to hide it from everyone, and then he would return to normal.

but as class went on, he never glanced at you. never leaned over your desk, and never flirted with you. it was like he completely forgot you existed, and were just another student. like he didn’t cum on the phone with you.

the bell quickly rang again, and you wasted no time before going up to his desk. a pair of expensive looking glasses were resting on the bridge of his nose as he looked over papers.

he purposefully ignored you for a whole minute, before you cleared your throat. he slid the glasses off, not even offering a smile like he did the day before. he just looked up at you like he wanted you to get it over with.

“umm, michael…”

“that’s mr. jackson to you.”

his voice sounded so cold, so different, that it felt like he physically slapped you. how could he pretend like you never shared anything six whole hours ago?

“why—“

“do you have a real question that’s school-related, or are you just looking to mingle around?” he abandoned the higher pitch voice, and there seemed to be no emotion in his eyes.

“no, I don’t. but—”

“you may see yourself out.”

he didn’t even let you finish before he dismissed you. what could have possibly happened? was he disgusted by your behavior all of the sudden?

“what…?” your voice was a small croak, and you weren’t even sure he actually heard it. you watched as he stood up from his chair, rounding the desk to stand a respectful distance from you.

“I said, you may leave now. please.”

“michael, come on! you can’t just—”

“can’t just what? and i told you, that’s mr. jackson.”

it felt like a losing battle. he wasn’t even letting you finish, he just seemed so done with you.

“a real gentleman wouldn’t do this.” you crossed your arms, absolutely going there. an angry glint replaced the cold one, and he took a step forward.

“you didn’t just go there.”

the air seemed to vanish as he spoke in that rough baritone. he was so close now, and you could feel the heat of his body.

the anger turned you on more.

“I did.” you gave him that defiant glare. “you’ve been a jackass, really. acting like we didn’t just…do that, and now you’re ghosting me.”

he let a beat pass, before he began to back you up against the door, slamming it closed to effectively trap you.

“and you’ve been a little bitch.” his voice is stern, like he’s lecturing you. “you should know not to go there.”

you almost laughed at that. “why?! after every fucking thing you said to me??” you couldn’t believe his audacity.

“because i’m doing this for us!” he threw his hands up, sighing heavily. “you’re too young. i’m not doing this.”

“you don’t get to make me all excited, then make an excuse!” you wanted to push him back. “if you truly cared, we wouldn’t have done all of that last night.”

“maybe i don’t care anymore!” he braced both hands on the door on either side of your head, trapping you. “so then tell me you fucking want it.”

a chill ran down your spine.

“mr. jackson…please…” your thighs were trembling, and he hadn’t even started touching you properly. “i need this. i need this so fucking bad!” you were on the verge of sobbing.

with a beat, he slid his arm under your thighs, hoisting you up and pinning your whole body against the door. “legs around my shoulders, baby.”

despite your initial frustration, it all began to melt away as you felt his breath on your inner thighs. you obeyed without hesitation, your legs locking around his neck.

he kept you in place as his finger slipped under your panties, feeling your wetness. a deep chuckle slipped out, and he began to drag the fabric down to reveal your glistening cunt.

“mm, she’s ready, baby.” he licked a strip up your inner thigh, seeing how much he could make you tremble before you started begging.

“wet little things call me ‘michael’, sweetheart.” he gave you permission again, but you barely heard him from the dizzying heat of his breath.

the sensation of his breath hovering over your folds and your back high against the door had you shaking. he was so strong despite his lean frame, and he could hold you so high up.

he leaned in, tongue darting out to lick up your slit. a breathless moan escaped your lips, and he pulled back already. “quiet, baby. not everyone left yet.”

you couldn’t care less. with his mouth back on your pussy, you were exactly where you wanted to be.

his tongue tasted you, darting into your hole to fuck you with his tongue. you were so tight, and he whispered a string of profanities against your aching cunt.

just then, he gathered a glob of his saliva, before spitting directly onto your clit. he watched in awe as it dripped down your slit, like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. he couldn’t wait for the saliva to be replaced with his cum.

his tongue found your clitoris, circling it fast, drawing out every sound from you, just to shut you up by sticking his fingers in your mouth. he relished in the way you suck on his digits, tasting yourself.

he began to devour you, wanting to make it up to you from when he raised his voice. you looked down, and he was practically making out with it.

your legs wrapped firmer around his neck, almost choking him. he didn’t mind: he was exactly where he wanted to be.

“that’s it. grind on my face, baby.” he groaned against your folds, sending vibrations deep into your core. “use my face to get off.”

your hips bucked, moaning at the pleasure of his tongue and his nose catching your pearl. you didn’t miss the way he slid his free hand down to your ass, holding you as close as possible, wanting to feel the pressure against his face.

“mm, f-feels too good…” your voice trembled, and you felt like you were going dumb. the pleasure was just too powerful, stealing the breath straight out of your lungs.

“i want you to cum on my face,” he rasped against your slit. “can you do that f’me, baby?”

you could only moan, tugging on his hair as he worked you past your limit. all you could see was blinding white sparks as you felt that coil snap in your belly.

“that’s it, let go f’me…”

your release crashed through you, and you cried out so loud, he had to cover your mouth with his hand. he slowly looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, his chin glistening with your juices. “so sweet…”

he manhandled you from his shoulders, your thighs against his forearms instead of his shoulders. he carried you over to his desk, swiping everything off with his arm before setting you down.

“mm…are you gonna bend me over…?” you ask, still breathless from your orgasm.

he chuckled, sending new waves of heat through you. “am i gonna bend’ya over? goodness, no.”

leaning in, his lips grazing your ear. “i want to see your face when i fuck you.”

he quickly slid the belt from his slacks off, folding it before pulling on both sides, making it snap. he wouldn’t actually hit you, though., hit it was still sexy.

michael tossed it carelessly behind him, before working on his suit. the suit jacket came off carefully, but when it was the white button down underneath, he pulled so hard the buttons flew out.

one flew by, grazing your ear, and he chuckled. his large hands slid up to your breasts, cupping them through your blouse, giving them a squeeze. he carefully unbuttoned them one by one, before the last one got stuck. he tugged hard, but it didn’t budge.

he leaned down, taking the fabric in his mouth, using his teeth to tug it off, and it did. satisfied, he rose back up, standing between your thighs as he massaged them.

his hand tilted your chin up, so you had to crane your neck, before he crashed his lips into yours. you could taste the faintness of your release from earlier as his tongue swept across your mouth.

the pile of clothes on the floor grew in size as your skirt and bra joined them. his mouth was latched onto one of your nipples as he slid his pants off.

he pulled back, pulling off his boxers before stepping back to the warmth of your thighs. he smirked down at you, holding the base of his cock as he slapped your pussy a few times with it.

the way you breathless on his desk, knees up to your face, made him lose his mind. he circled your clit with his mushroom tip, before pressing it against your hole.

“hold onto me, baby.” he commanded, one hand around his base, the other braced on one side of your head. he began to push in, savoring the tightness of your gummy walls stretching.

the sensation was burning and painful, to the point where it bordered on pleasure. unfortunately, his thick cock was huge, and you were tight.

you grabbed his shoulders as he sank into you, and he let out a groan of approval. he gave you a few seconds, savoring the way you clenched already, and how you adjusted. “that’s it, baby. take your teacher’s dick.”

he began to roll his hips, pleasure shooting all throughout his body. he was already obsessed.

he pulled out until just his tip remained inside, before slowly sliding back in until his hips were pressed against yours. he loved the way he could hear your wetness every time he slid, leaving his cock wet with your juices.

the pace picked up, and he began fucking you into his desk. the fact that the best pussy he ever had was by some eighteen year old girl who was his student left him surprised and dizzy. he couldn’t even keep his noises suppressed.

“so…wet f’me, baby.” he groaned, leaning in to bury his face in your neck. he licked and sucked at your sweet skin, feeling like a hormonal teenager again.

his hips slammed against yours, leaving the sound in the air, as well as the smell of sweat and sex. his hands gripped your thighs, driving home in a constant rhythm of pleasure. “take your teachers cock, baby. feel how it fucks you.”

he had a lot of stamina, and it left you feeling breathless. his large hand rested on your stomach, feeling his own dick as he pounded you.

he grabbed your thighs, hitching them over his shoulders. he held onto your ankles, watching how your face contorted in pleasure and the new deep angle he was hitting. he moved, beginning to hit your g-spot with every move of his hips.

“oh god…such a good girl!” he moaned into your ear as his cock kissed your cervix. his hands slid down to the back of your knees, wrapped around them as his eyes rolled back.

he was a man who had stamina, a man who could fuck for hours without the need to stop. but when he was balls deep into your tight pussy, he was already working to his release.

as he fucked you harder, he groaned and cried out with you. as he moved, the desk began to shake and creak, the sound of wood splintering catching you both off guard. the legs of the desk snapped off, and the middle of the desk splintered in half.

he gasped as he caught you before you could join the broken desk on the floor. “oh fuck…are you alright, baby?”

you literally broke the desk. as you searched his face, he looked so worried, like you were hurt.

instead, a giggle left your lips, and he looked confused. you couldn’t stop yourself, you fell into a fit of giggles.

“sweetheart…” he chuckled. “you make me break a desk. no other woman has ever made me break something.”

his arms wrapped around you waist, and he stuck his thigh out, guiding your aching core to it.

“you’re getting fucked so good tonight, baby.” he whispered in your ear, enlightening you on what was to come. “i want to break my bed.”

“the broken desk,” you whispered. “won’t someone…know?”

he chuckled softly. he found it endearing how you were nervous for his problem. “nah. these desks are weak, anyway. I’ll come up with an excuse.”

he began to push you back against the counter, hoisting you up to sit. “lift your hips, baby.” he murmured. “i want to cum in this pretty pussy. may i?”

you sat there, breathless as you nodded, feeling the heat again. “yes…please!” you wanted to feel his warm seed spurt deep inside.

he continued the rough pace of his hips, cock hitting your cervix again as he pushed you closer to the brink of release. his hand slid down, rubbing your clit in fast, small circles. the dual sensation had your eyes rolling back, bucking you hips wildly.

“fuck, i…ah!” he moaned, his lower lip catching his teeth. “cum, baby! cum f’me r’now..”

that coil in your belly snapped again, and your release struck through you, and you came on his cock. the feeling of his warm cum filling you up left you utterly satisfied.

he caught his breath, before slowly pulling out of your swollen pussy.

“holy shit…” he breathed, before letting out a huff of air. “that was…the best fucking sex I’ve ever had. and damn, I’ve had a lot.”

“really? and how many exactly?” you smirked.

“enough to make a pretty young thing like you blush.” he murmured in your ear, lips grazing your skin. “but forget about them. im addicted, baby.”

your breath hitched, and he chuckled. “baby, there’s no one else i want to fuck.” he confessed. “i think you’ve earned an A for the rest of the year.”

as the two of you began to get dressed, he took your panties in his hand. “i think I’m going to keep this…for our next phone call.”

you were exhausted, and couldn’t even speak. he had literally rearranged your guts, and was already planning ahead.

his new priority was getting you home before your parents noticed. it had been thirty minutes since school was dismissed, since your pussy made him finish so fast.

“let’s get you home, hmm?” he gave you a small smile, helping you off of the counter and onto the ground.

“don’t think this is over, baby.”

she sees Michael Jackson

”hi mike”

“hi y/n”

“let’s kiss”

“ok”

they kiss and then get married

The only time you were permitted to see him was during dinner, of course. Other than that, you were strictly supervised by a staff member of the household to ensure you weren’t breaking the rules.

As if that wasn’t enough, Edward was asked to visit the estate more often by Mr. Whittman, as if it was a punishment for running off with his son.

You had a burning feeling that Vincent would be pressured or forced into marriage as well. So much for ‘run away with me.’

Being stuck in your room almost all day was driving you insane. If you weren’t being supervised by a maid, you were either in the shower or using the bathroom.

The maid was a sweet woman, around ten years your senior. She was still young and understanding of your feelings, at least. Even though she wasn’t terrible to be around, you still found yourself in the shower every day to have a moment to yourself. At least you were lucky enough that she wouldn’t snitch.

The maid, Miss Adelaida, was a calm woman with fire like hair and forest green eyes that were always soft. You had never seen her out of uniform, as she was almost always on duty.

Since you were lonely for almost all of the day, you even tried striking up conversations with the shy maid. She was quiet, always mumbling and blushing when someone spoke to her.

You were lying on your queen sized bed, legs crossed and hands flat on your stomach, looking up at the dull ceiling. After finishing another book for what seemed like the hundredth time, you were bored out of your mind.

Was life this boring for Vincent?

No, probably not. He wasn’t being watched by anyone, and he was walking free like nothing had ever happened. Though he wasn’t allowed near your wing, so he was never allowed to even visit.

“Adelaida?” The side of your face hit the pillow as you looked over at her. She was dusting your dresser off meticulously. “Or I mean, uh…miss.”

She wiped her brow, setting the duster onto the marble. “Just Adelaida..please.” She said quietly, before returning to her job. Her uniform was quite dusty, but she was busying herself with your collectibles. Her pink dress and black apron was a symbol of one of the most trusted maids, so it was self-evident she was chosen for you.

You studied her for a while, watching as she cleaned very quickly. She looked fatigued, bags forming under her eyes and her burning red hair frizzy and out of place.

“Perhaps you should…take a break?” You suggested, your tone shifting to something more like concern. It was awkward for both of you, for one of the residents to ask something along those lines. Usually, they were always overworked…

She shook her head slowly. “I can’t.” Was all she replied with, resuming to reorganize the collection of cards you have received from your friends before you moved, around seven years ago. It was nice to cherish the memories, even after almost a decade.

You watched her closely again. She was starting to sweat easily, and she looked like she just got back from World War I. Poor girl.

She was only in her mid-twenties, already overworked for just minimum wage by a millionaire. How was that even fair…?

You thought for a moment. “Perhaps I can ask for a replacement?” Besides, you knew a short little woman who loved cleaning more than anything.

She shook her head. “No…I’d hate to put this load on someone else…” she glanced around the room, which needed a light dusting and sweeping. She was selfless, ready to clean a whole mansion if it meant no one else had to.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

You sat up, attempting to put your hands on your hips from the bed. “Well, I uh…order you to stop and take a break…please.”

Adelaida laughed softly at your theatrics, but her face fell back to the tired expression from before. “If I could, I would.” Was all she murmured before finishing off the dresser.

Now that you thought of it, you never saw that woman even sleep. She was always put on duty to watch you, while balancing cleaning everything. It was too much for one person, you wouldn’t be surprised if she snapped soon from being overworked.

“Then do it,” you suggested kindly. You pushed off the bed, taking the broom and duster from her hands, before gesturing to your bed. “It’s the least I can do for the woman who watches over me.

“Besides, anyone can clean. I’ll be okay.” You said with a smile. She looked eternally grateful for your kind deed. You gently guided her to your large bed, letting her climb into the sheets.

As soon as her head hit the pillow, she seemed to be knocked out already. She must have been exhausted.

You looked back at your clean dresser. At least that was taken care of, but your floor needed a light sweeping.

Setting the duster down onto the cleaned marble, you began to sweep the floor quickly and quietly. You’d hate to wake the sleeping woman, especially since she had been so fatigued for so long. It’s the least you could do.

You swept underneath the bed as best you could, finding pairs of clothes you haven’t realized fell back there. Sweeping it into the dustpan, you began to dust your shelves.

You hummed a tune to yourself, giving the duster quick strokes to clear the building dust on the platform. The dust made you feel like you had to sneeze, but at least you were helping someone.

You glanced back at the woman in your bed with a small smile. She was already peacefully asleep. How could a millionaire be treating his staff like this?

Looking back at the door, you were startled by a short woman with brown hair and brown eyes. She looked like a lot of the other maids, but shorter. There was something different about her…

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” She was more outgoing than Adelaida. She seemed to hear you sweeping from across the estate. She hurried to your spot, snatching the duster from your hands. “I’ll take that!” From up close, she had to have been the youngest maid in the mansion. Maybe even the youngest staff member.

You took a step back, watching as she cleaned with immaculate precision. She was good, you had to give her that. And unlike everyone else, she didn’t seem totally depressed or exhausted.

“…Nice to meet you, Niffty.” You took a few more steps back, not wanting to be in her way as she cleaned everything with a unnatural speed.

She was wearing the typical uniform, a black dress and white apron, but there seemed to be something engraved into the fabric. Was it a poodle? She also had a questionable red stain on the apron.

“Hey, uh…Niff?” The nickname rolled from your tongue before you could stop it. “You gotta little something on your apron there…” you pointed with a weak hand, unsure how she would take it.

“It’s from a battle,” she said, smile wide. “With the bugs. They lost.”

You returned her smile, a little concerned but overall relieved it was just bugs. She never stopped dusting, not even to look at you.

The silence was deafening again, making you cringe. The maid didn’t seem to mind…

“Soo…” you started nervously, looking around. “You look young. Have you just started this job?”

She kept dusting the already clean shelf. “I don’t know.” Her smile never faltered before she moved to the right to dust the other side.

How did she not know…?

“What do you mean, ‘I don’t know.’?” You raised a brow. How could she not know when she started, or even have an idea.

“Started when they stuck that metal thing into my eye socket,” she laughed manically, sweeping the dust fast.

Was she talking about a lobotomy? Had they lobotomized her?

“Uh-huh…” you nodded slowly. “And what did they do exactly with that metal…thing?”

She eventually finished the shelf, tossing the duster onto the bed, before withdrawing a mop from a cart she had rolled in earlier. “I don’t know. My brain tingled though, and it made me realize how much I love pain and cleaning!”

You sucked your teeth. So perhaps it was a lobotomy gone wrong then? “So, let me get this straight…they stuck that tool up your eye, did some shit, and now you’re like this?”

She nodded quickly without hesitation, a smile still present on her face as she moved around the mop.

“Niffty, hon…I think you were lobotomized.” You were stating the obvious, but you weren’t exactly sure she knew what had happened to her.

“What’s that?”

“The thing they did to you,” you watched as she gave the floor a few more strokes with the sopping mop, before it clicked back into place in the cart.

“Oh.” Was all she said, wheeling the cart outside of your room. “Cool!”

Watching her leave, you sighed. Poor girl didn’t even realize what had happened to her, and that it wasn’t exactly a good thing. Perhaps she had a severe mental illness before…

Adelaida stirred in the bed beside you, drawing your attention. She yawned, stretching her arms. You gave her an easy smile to comfort her.

“How did you sleep?” You asked, looking down at her before she sat up. She still looked exhausted, but at least she still got some rest in her.

“Quite alright,” she murmured, smoothing the wrinkles on her dress. She wasn’t much of a talker, especially not after waking up.

You hesitated. “Have you ever been in love before?” It surprised her, and even you, at the sudden question that slipped past your lips. You didn’t even realize you’ve been craving advice.

Adelaida cleared her throat. “Yes.” She nodded. “A long time ago.”

“Still?” You found yourself asking.

“No. Not anymore,” there was a sad smile present on her lips. “Quite frankly, not after my first heartbreak.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused. “You just…never loved anyone again?”

“No,” she said with a smile. “The idea of a relationship isn’t very appealing anymore. I’d rather be by myself.”

To say that you were shocked was an understatement. She seemed to be the romantic type of girl. She noticed your sudden change of expression, and immediately began to backtrack.

“I mean, not if I found the right person…” she said quickly and quietly.

“What? No, no, I’m not judging.” You quickly said, relaxing her. “That’s…smart. Self love first, right?”

Adelaida gave a lighthearted chuckle, her hand coming to cover her mouth. “Yeah. That’s right.” She stood up to her feet, glancing in the mirror. “I’m glad I learned that.”

She watched as you peered out at the door, like Vincent would be rescuing you at any second. She exhaled softly, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder. “Maybe it’s time for you to learn as well?” She bit her lip. “Mr. Whittman won’t always be beside you, in cases like these.”

“Who?” You asked.

“Young Mr. Whittman.”

That soothed your nerves. And she was right. Self-love and respect was important for everyone. “I know, I know. But I need to see him now,” you glanced back out the door. The hallway was eerily quiet.

Adelaida sucked her teeth quickly before she bent over to pick up a piece of paper half underneath the dresser. She held it out to you, and you quickly grabbed it to read.

Running away together.

You could run away with Vincent!

“You know where he is, right?” You asked, more determined than ever. She nodded.

“Take me to him.” ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡